Hotshot took a deep breath as the first rays of morning sun began to peek over the walls of Megacity-01. After spending the majority of last night disciplining some young upstarts in Afterburn, he was grateful to have a quiet moment before long day began. This particular morning, Hotshot was in his usual hiding place: a secluded rooftop on top of a Matsuda Cybernetics clinic. There was an old communication tower on top of the building which Hotshot would climb in order to get a full view of the cityscape around him. Sadly his moment of peace was about to be shattered.

In the corner of his eye, Hotshot saw a blur moving across the rooftops. Once the figure reached the Matsuda building, he recognized the shock of blonde hair and cybernetic arm of Phoenix, another Afterburn Sk8ter and his old friend. Dropping down from his perch, Hotshot immediately recognized the worried look in her eyes.

"What's the beat, Phoenix?" Hotshot turned on his runner specs as he addressed her. If anything was wrong, the first place to check would be SkyNet.

"Nothing good. We've got a dead Burner on our hands. Rotor. He didn't come back to the safehouse last night. When we woke up this morning, news reports in the Hub had his body all over the feed. Dead in the Spire." Hotshot perked up at that last part.

"The Spire? Why would a beginner like him go there? Especially after I told the whole damn cell to avoid the Spire like the plague?" Even though it had been several months since the incident with Firebird, his death at the hands of MCPD still had lasting scars for Afterburn.

"No clue. I checked with some of his buddies, but all they heard was Rotor had gotten hit up for a courier job. He wouldn't tell them anything, only that he was gonna "rule the fucking city" when it was done. What's odd though is the news reports all said he wasn't carrying anything..."

"Well that's certainly cryptic..." Hotshot observed the SkyNet map as several markers began popping up in The Spire. "Rotor said he HAD a job, but no item on him. Meaning someone probably got to him first and took whatever he was carrying." Picking himself off the ground, Hotshot began stretching. It seemed as though he was going to be running A LOT today. "I'm going to hit up a few contacts. Wake up the Cell. Send them throughout the city. Someone murdered one of our own. He's about to learn you don't fuck with Afterburn..."

"That you believe we are superior vexes me."

"Are we not? We permeate near all levels of society."

"Thisss doesss not mean we are sssuperior. Merely ssspread out."

A clang as a sheet of metal is dropped at the foot of a 4 foot high pile of scrap and debris. Several members of the Pack Scavenger crew inch forward as the short burly being bearing a warthog mask wipes at his neck. The warthog looking around and giving three who were just debating a look to pay attention.

There are actually sixteen Pack members here. Four members of the Bear style, a grizzly, two black bears and a polar bear. Their masks looking around, alert looking for danger. Decked out in combat gear, rifles and other weapons festooned their outfits. Bears, the Packs defenders and sentinels. A trio of rodentia, two mice and a rat, skitter about and into the pile, small, petite and agile they search the debris pile for good salvage. A pair of warthogs, burly and powerful, perfect for hauling and moving things. A viper snake mask attentive and quick tallying what's been found. Five lupine or canine masks. A collie, a husky, two grey wolves and a hyena. Helping to bag up the things that are found, and working with tools to bag up their salvage. And rounding out the group standing tall, hood up and jacket hanging open a singular figure.

Honey Badger kneels looking over the slab of metal. His voice clicking, causing the Pack took over at him. Actting as lead for this Scavenger job, Honey Badger clicks abit more before speaking, "Analysis shows traces of magnesium, palladium and iron in this slab."

The early debate put on hold the viper hisses, "Good with some work the elements can be separated out. Palladium is good for making augments. Magnesium can be used in the forges for heat. Yes a fine find." Honey Badger nods, getting to his feet, pulling a tablet from inside his jacket, "Yes a fine find indeed. Hyena start to break this up and get it into the bags please." Honey Badger starts cataloguing the find as the rodents dive back into the pile.

The tablet lit up ad a stylus slid out of HBs left arm and began to peck away at the screen.

As he did a notification popped up on the tablet, connected to ghost web conduits, gang news came through it often. Taking a moment HB clicked the notification open. And quietly muttered, "A dead runner, atop the Spire." Honey Badger turned his head and looked left and up, that great spear of glass and metal rising high into the sky in the distance. Soon other members of the Pack got the notification. And all looked to Honey Badger, "We wait, and listen, until the Burners come asking for our aid. The Pack has other concerns."

Honey Badger looked at the message again, "Fascinating..." The machine man whispered, them turned back to the task at hand. One of the warthogs crowing as a large piece of silver likely a piece of some damaged accelerator is unearthed. The rest of the Pack cheers as the find is bagged up.

"So as I was saying, we are superior in the city."

"Great, here we go again."

Eyes blinked open. She’d been sleeping soundly. Deep enough in slumber that the first few seconds of reality felt like a mystery; like she’d been a million miles away and suddenly snapped back to the present. Alese stared ahead for a moment, blankly watching the slow turn of long industrial fan blades over the shop while her mind became somewhat functional again. She remembered she’d only planned to lay down, take a little cat nap and then get back to work, however the relative silence in the air informed her that she’d been checked-out considerably longer than just a brief resting of the eyes. The small sofa in what constituted a “break area” within the alcove where the main tool chests were located was cheap, but by the gods was it comfortable and as she became steadily aware of herself, she debated whether or not to just blissfully drift away again though she knew that never worked. Her mind seemed to operate in two modes when it came to sleep: Awake and thinking or out cold to the point a marching band could have paraded across the floor and she would have never noticed. Something floated by the periphery of her vision and her glance shifted, but she was still far too comfortable to move.

The digital face of her small drone blinked an alarm that was several hours passed. Normally it would have made a happy chime to wake her up when the countdown expired, though for whatever reason it had been silent. “Thanks…” She grumbled and the deep blue clock face merrily turned to a pixelated smile. She sighed and wiped her eyes. The AI contained within the small drone was very good, but inexplicably would just go silent at random times to the point where she had inserted a backup protocol for it to beep and “speak” in Morse code, however that hadn’t worked either… For a brief second, she started to consider the potential problems in the logic for the umpteenth time, but quickly shut down that line of thinking. Having built it herself, whatever the problem was had been something she had done along the way and she just didn’t feel like thinking about it at the moment. She stretched mightily and sat up, shifting her legs down, but still keeping her upper body slouched in the warmth from her sleep. Disheveled strands of multicolored hair hung over her eyes and touched her lips and she blew them off with an ungraceful huff.

Directly in front of her were two large armored vans, though they looked closer to military personnel carriers having huge solid tires instead of tracks. With six wheels each, in a line they took up more space than three civilian cars bumper to bumper. Black and white with the stomping print of “MCPD” on the side, each had a turret on top that could be configured for whatever the intended purpose from crowd control, to raids or surveillance. These were brand new and a thick line of cables led inside the machine closest to her denoting the work she left before dozing off. Pre-delivery contracts for city administration were pretty easy, however there were only a handful of shops this side of MegaCity-01 that met the technical qualifications to do the work when the official motor pool office was too far behind. Alese could easily picture her father’s perspicacious expression explaining how the police had to be deftly managed just like the gangs and that there was no harm in understanding the finer points of their operation: Like the truncation pattern in the radio net, the unit number logic or the published versus realistic performance of many of the more advanced systems. Even though he had been out of the Spire for years, Corporate instinct still directed much of his thinking.

She yawned and shook her head, stretching again before a steaming mug and a hand terminal were suddenly in her face. She took the terminal and set it aside, but tickled cautiously at the mug the drone presented in its unfolded arm, testing the temperature. “Way too hot.” She said, looking at the small screen knowing that it should be trying to read her facial expression, however it only responded ponderously with another smile and seemed to insist that she take the drink. “Just sit it on the table.” She said flatly and stood up. The drone’s posture seemed to drop like it was disappointed and did as instructed.

Fingertips ran along the angular hull of the giant vehicle and her sneakers scarcely made a sound on the concrete as she first glanced up towards the living area. No one else seemed to be home and only the ambient noise of muffled city traffic filled the air. She didn’t want to be seen snooping and simply walked like a curious cat towards the only other vehicle in the shop, though it wasn’t a customer or contract job.

Low to the floor, the gentle curvature of the roof was barely above her waistline. The stout bars of a complex roll cage frame were visible between wide rear tires while the formed aluminum monocoque that covered the aft section was removed; sitting aside with several components of the upper engine assembly and two substantial rear spoilers that hung on the back wall, one of which was visibly damaged. Alese leaned against the steel bumper of the MCPD stryker and looked over it for a moment, like some champion fighter in the locker room being made ready for the arena. Her eyes slowly drifted up to the damaged wing and she felt her breath pause for just a moment before she finally sighed while thoughts passed letting her shoulders relax again. She didn’t really expect to find anything different. Both turbos were laid out neatly with their brief, coiling downpipes that continued to a pair of what were essentially sound canons that would go in last before the shell was replaced. Norris had been putting it back together which meant there were credits to be made. She pursed her lips slightly and turned away, drumming her nails on the hood of the massive police vehicle. Her sportbike was sitting happily, tucked in the opposite corner like a loyal pet, bright white and excited, but she hadn’t ridden it in nearly two weeks.

As she stepped away, the drone reappeared abruptly with another cup of coffee and her terminal. She eyed the first cup still steaming for a moment and took the second attempt in hand along with the terminal again. “Much better.” She said, though taking a cautious sip. Her eyes perused the media feeds while the drone gently maneuvered behind her as if angling to read the text from over her shoulder. She shrugged and stepped away to keep the screen from its glance. “Don’t be so nosey.” She chided, sitting down on the step up to the driver’s side of the stryker. Nothing too exciting although a runner from one of the Sk8ter cells turning up dead at the Spire was a bit of a strange anecdote in the rest of the regular city drama, particularly that, according to the report, he had fallen to his death and stranger still, was completely empty-handed. Most of the reports she rapidly checked basically followed with the same description and not a lot of detail. It wasn’t unusual for MCPD to put a lid on a story, but this one felt particularly terse, even from some of the news beats that were generally favorable to the police force. A runner falling wasn’t totally unheard of, but dropping to their death without any kit was an eyebrow raiser. Every Sk8ter she knew at least carried some level of gear, much of which was designed to prevent them from such a fate. She gave a small huff of amusement. It probably wouldn’t matter and would be forgotten in a few days, but it might be interesting gossip and she knew a few people that would be keen to know the real story. She was in the middle of another sip when a random synthesized voice startled her out of the quiet distraction nearly causing her to jump out of her skin and almost spill coffee everywhere.

“Time to work!”

Alese looked up hatefully at the drone. “Oh, so now you’re talking?” She said, flicking away drips of coffee that teetered over the edge and ran down the side of the mug.

“I. Work… Alese.” It responded. Reading her narrowed brow and sensing the growl in her words, it changed its tone, scouring the net in a fraction of a second in an attempt to find a soothing voice to replicate. “Can. We… Work?” Somewhere, the AI’s algorithms decided a cartoon character's sing-song tenor would be an appropriate counter for its creator’s displeasure, however observing her extremely unsatisfactory reaction, it began to slowly reverse away.

“I think I’m gonna erase your memory.”

“Please. No.”

The Rooftop Workshop was abuzz with a pleasant atmosphere of activity. A few Afterburn members were lounging on the rooftop segment, rousing slowly after a late night of scouting, scavenging, and running. As dawn crept over the horizon the smog of the city was rising and beginning to crawl up onto the rooftops in this neighborhood; the pollutant runoff of an industrial sector flowed thickly across the streets of this particular slum. A few of the 'burners coughed when the smog rose; some reached for masks, whilst others settled into an adjusted level of comfort as the acidic tang of the air settled over the roof. One man in particular rose to his feet and retched briefly, before seeming to calm as he leaned against the edge of the building to spit the foul taste from his mouth.

Following the smog as it pressed against the building, as if a sentient amoeba testing for chinks in armor, tufts of the foul air rolled into Sister's Workshop. The young girl burst into the room, already wearing a respirator as she emerged from the lower floor of her haunt. In her arms was a large box filled with the scraps of electronic equipment and a few choice pieces of metallic hardware that she could manage to carry on her own. Her hair, sensibly tied back in a working ponytail, was out of her face and a dazzling sense of joy for the day radiated from her even as she worked alone within the place she called home. She took a deep, filtered, breath and paused. She breathed out, hearing the grainy sound of her exhalation as it reverberated against the filtration system of the mask.

Then she giggled and did it again. And again. And once more, finding the sensation of the mask vibrating against her face to be a delightful one that only made her laugh harder, which in turn then caused the sensations to escalate until she was swaying and dizzy from lack of breath. She had to sway over to a workbench and set the box down a little too heavily, a soldering iron bouncing off the table in the process. She jerked back with a small yelp, dizzily swaying from the table as this particular tool fell, and she eyed it suspiciously as it sat on the ground laden with an ominous threat of heat. Tentatively she knelt down and reached for its handle, cautiously lifting it away from the ground and double-checking its power switch.

"--Whew, close one. Saturnine would blow a gasket if I burnt my own lab down." She murmured to herself for, perhaps, the one millionth time in her life since escaping the Spire. She placed the tool back into its slot on her workbench with the gusto of an orphanage matron who has caught a naughty child out after dark, and dusted her hands off on her overalls. Her breathing evened out as she appraised her haul of loot for the morning, and the first rays of sunlight began to filter through her windows along with the smog as she began to organize her salvage neatly upon the long workbench that filled half the floor. It contrasted the facsmile of privacy that the hanging tarps provided her 'personal bedroom' on the floor, or the half-crumbled wall that housed the kitchen, in that the workshop half of this floor was an almost entirely open floorplan with the workbench lining one entire wall of the building and a set of monitors connected to a digital terminal dominated the adjoining corner, with toolboxes and electronics equipment filling the space in the middle of the room to act as a divider between her 'private' life and her 'work' life.

Right as she set the final transistor set on the workbench and tossed the box aside, a commotion arose on the floor above. Her smile, hidden beneath the respirator, faded. Those footsteps sounded frantic. The voices sounded hot. Her hands curled on the workbench in a slow and deliberate grip that dug her nails into her palms. She lifted her head just as a man's face appeared upside down in the window before her.

"Word just came in, Rotor's given up the ghost. 'Parently the news is kicking up a buzz on it. Hotshot's calling in the troops."

His words struck Sister and she let out a small sigh, appearing as if to swoon slightly from the weight of the conversation. The man's eyes widened briefly, revealing the mirrorchrome extent of the cybernetic appendages in full. Sister steadied herself even as he reached through the window for her, and she hastily pushed his hand away.

"Roger, I shall send out a Skynet update to the Cell. Go on then, Dumpster, get out of here. I'll be fine." She shooed at him with her hands even as she turned towards the complex array of computer terminals. Dumpster flashed her a thumbs up, which strangely enough meant he was pointing downwards due to his reversed orientation with gravity, then disappeared back up to the roof in a swift lurch of movement. Sister strode swiftly, shrugging the straps of her coveralls off her arms and pushing the top down to hang around her waist to reveal a crisp white shirt that, as of now, was yet unburdened by the filth of her workplace.

She thrust herself down into her chair and swivelled to face the terminals. She pressed both hands together before her and bent the fingers on each hand deliberately until each knuckle of each finger cracked in a dizzying array of sounds, groaned within her respirator in a pleased manner, then pulled a heavy visor-helmet down onto her head. As the visual feeds of the Afterburn Skynet network filled her gaze her hands began to fly on the keyboard.

"Alright...Boss wants everyone?... Then I'll scatter everyone... Spark, meet Gasoline..."

---

Mentions: Hotshot (@TheNoCoKid)

Saturnine was braiding his hair. His fingers moved deftly in a practiced pattern, the lustrous sheen of his white hair flowing into a deliberately manufactured 'messy' fishtail braid. The alternating movements of his hands brought him an aura of introspection and planning as he eyed his prize for the morning. His eyes were drawn to her hands, moreso than anything else. She had rough hands, but as he watched her twist the lid of her thermos open he could note the elegant way her muscles twisted and contracted. The way it brought her forearms into a taut definition. The way they relaxed and brought the thermos to her lips. The way her eyes met his--

The metro crashed past overhead, flickering their eye contact into a broken slideshow of bemused expressions on both sides of the street as the bulk of the machine shattered the first sign of sunlight into the binary of shadow and sun. Every time the light passed over Saturnine it sent the woman into shadow, and this game of glimpsing the other seemed to shatter the ice wondrously. Saturnine's arms fell from behind his head, the braid complete, and with languid movements and careful timing he crossed the street in an athletic burst, leaping recklessly- though quite comfortably- into a dive to avoid the passing bulk of a freight truck. He rolled to his feet just as the light reached the woman that he was, now quite suddenly, standing mere feet from.

Her eyebrow arched. He liked how that framed her tough face. It was early in the morning, but it was clear that for the two of them that their mutual days had started long before this moment. She drank from the thermos again even as Saturnine fell into step beside her.

"You do that a lot?"

Her words were exotic, laden with an accent he couldn't place.

"Only when there's a good reason." He replied swiftly, flashing a dazzling smile. Her laughter was clearly in derision at his charmed words, but it wasn't a bitter or disinterested laugh. "I think the honor of learning your name was plenty good enough to warrant such a small risk."

"Small risk, hm?" She mused. Saturnine watched her hands as they lowered the thermos down, returned the cap to its top, and twisted hard to seal the bottle shut. He watched as they hooked the bottle onto a karabiner on her hip, and the way her right hand rested atop it to stop its sway as she walked. His eyes only rose again when she continued, "You know, most guys stare at...well, basically anything besides my hands."

He smiled at her amusement, a more sincere one than the one prior.

"You have nice hands." He said simply, noting the way her olive cheeks darkened with the compliment. "But if you'd like, I could come up with a few poems about your eyes, and maybe even one about your ears?" He offered, relaxing into the comforts of this conversation.

"You think you're so smooth, huh?" She suddenly shoved him by his shoulder lightly, disjointing their steps. "You seem like the kind of guy who thinks he can get whatever he wants."

"And you seem like the kind of woman who knows what she wants." He countered evenly, twisting to walk backwards at her side. His steps rejoined hers in an even pattern even as he had to react swiftly to match her turn at the end of the block. "And, I think you and I aren't so different."

"Is that so, smooth stranger? Just how is that right?"

"We both desperately need breakfast, a shower, and sleep. I'm thinking that particular order of events sounds quite lovely, don't you?"

He watched as her eyes lightened with her laugh, the way she brought her left hand up to cover her mouth as she laughed. The way her fingers touched her lips.

"Alright, I can do breakfast and we'll see how things go from there."

But he couldn't see her hand anymore. His goggles lit up with an incoming notification, and his gait slowed enough that she managed to pass him by. She halted at the same time he did, turning back to gaze at him quizzically.

"What's up?"

"I'm afraid that we'll have to settle for exchanging names for now, madam." He said with deep regret. "Duty calls."

"Work?" She said wistfully.

"Always." He agreed with a chuckle as he turned to face her again.

"They call me Eesha." She said, now deliberately moving her hand to tuck thick purple hair over her ear. He licked his lips.

"Saturnine. Mind if I ask who 'they' are?" He asked the question even as he pulled his heavy headphones onto his ears. He watched as her lips curled into a smirk. He watched as she tapped at her lower lip with her index finger.

"The ones I like. I walk this path five days a week. Watch out for trucks, Saturnine."

He grinned like an idiot as he turned away and broke into a sprint away from her. His gloved fingers twitched, interfacing with the augmented reality view of his goggles.

"Did you really need to take the call that early?" Sister's voice rose from his messenger satchel. "I could have gone one thousand years without hearing you flirt like that directly into my ears."

He chuckles again, quieter this time, as he undid the strap of the satchel and let Sparky rise from within. His mirth was fading fast, replaced by a strong sense of obligation. His smile did not waver, however, and as the diminutive drone hovered by his head he nodded once.

"Your message said it was critical." He teased.

"Critical, not 'make your sister vomit' critical. I don't think there's anything that could ever happen that would make me want you to answer a call that fast."

"I'll always answer for you, you know that."

"Yeah, well, hurry up. Hotshot's calling in everyone."

Saturnine leapt at the same moment as his hoverboard roared to life from a nearby alleyway and thrust into motion. He deftly landed upon it and kicked its thrusters into gear, surging into the air as a streak of neon orange light cleft by the tail of his white braid. The wind whipped past his face, flinging his hair into a thankfully controlled chord behind him. He shifted his weight and spiralled around the metro rail to corkscrew above the train, now racing down its length from the facsimile of privacy offered by being above the machine. He knelt onto the board and swept his hand through the display of datafeeds that flooded his HUD.

"...Rotor, I liked him. I knit him those mittens a few weeks ago because he said that he kept getting blisters on his palms when he used that grapple line. I wish he'd have said something, I could have been there."

"You can't save everyone, don't do that to yourself."

"Patch me through to Hotshot, sis."

He cleared the news feeds and stomped hard on the back of the hoverboard, launching himself higher into the air and narrowly climbing over the arch of a roadway tunnel that the metro intersected. He twisted into a spiral, hugging himself to the board, and 'bounced' the thrusters off the top of a taxi that was caught in a deadlock of traffic. He surged upwards and rose as a blur along the face of the buildings until his board was sailing over the rooftops, unimpeded by any further obstacles for the time being. When he saw the notification of his communications reaching out for Hotshot, he set his expression into a relaxed smile.

"Alright Hotshot, how are we doing this?"

---

---

“Does the sun still actually rise or does some program turn the Earth so that we all continue to keep the illusion alive?”

That was truly the pathetic line he thought was going to inspire lust in me? Seems like nowadays no one has looks and brains. It's one or the other. Why is it that Spire men are so… uninspiring?

Lips curved as a perfectly manicured hand lifted a flute filled with a magical concoction they called a Mimosa. The selection of drinks the Salon provided all came in pretty little crystal glasses. The sip was a soundless delicate one. The fact that there was no one else in the Salon except the workers plus a tall curvy leggy redhead was not unexpected either. “Classic French polish please.”

The artist nodded and complied. There was no chit chat or conversation between the redhead and technician who was focused on his work. He was meticulous about his lines and his client, the redhead, didn't attempt to distract him with conversation; or telling him how to do his job. As he finished up the redhead said, “Your work is always flawless Raul. Nails or paintings.”

Raul inclined his head at the compliment. It was a rare thing from the lady Miss Chandrilla Jocelyn Rae Thibodaux did not often dole out praise so this was a very special occasion. “Jasper please pay the man and give him a generous tip.”

An attaché peeled himself away from the wall. He was a man you'd forget the minute he wasn't in sight. Jasper excelled at being average in all ways and invisible to everyone. He handed over cash in a hefty sum for Raul's services. Raul took it without counting it till the entourage had left; nearly having a heart attack when he did. Thankfully he did not have a heart attack but he did cry.

Walking out with her entourage, Chandi took one step in her strappy, iridescent Jymmie Choz flashing smooth, toned, creamy long legs that seemed to go at least a mile up to a jet black beaded micro mini skirt. Her top was a pale pink sweetheart neckline cropped three quarter sleeved sweater with a black bolero jacket made of silk woven with iridescent thread. The chunky buttons undone in the jacket so that it merely framed the outfit. Her red hair a flame in the sunlight as she held out her hand to have Jasper put a pair of chic sunglasses in them. “Thank you Jasper.”

The first of the piranhas that called themselves paparazzi ran around the corner as Chandi put on her sunglasses. Nodding and smiling pretty for the camera the din almost drowned out the question she finally heard. “Miss Thibodaux! Do you have any information or an opinion on the body found in the Spire?”

Stopping her banal “No comment” comments or her patronizing smirks Chandi focused on the questioner. “Why Mr. Argyle from the main news outlet; what - pray do tell - are you doing hanging around with my lovely little piranhas?” The other men chuckled. She'd had them eating out of the palm of her hand since she could coo.

“Boss put me on a gossip rag.” He hung his head.

A dark deep throaty chuckle came from Chandi and more than a few of the men stood straighter, sweated a little, went glassy eyed with arousal or all of the above. “Welcome to my little school. Give Jasper your contact information and we will inform you of all my public movements and you can come to what you wish. Everyone here knows that I do interviews on my time, not yours and if you behave yourself then you might get one. Honestly your boss did you a favor. Ask any of these gents and they will tell you they live better than your average newscaster… on air.” She smirked and pointed to Jasper as she pivoted to leave her stilettos tapping out a steady tattoo to the car that she'd used from her flat to the Salon. She'd done her duty. The warning was there just wrapped up nice and pretty. Flat out saying, stay the fuck away from me and mine only made it harder to get them to go away.

Getting to the car Chandi pulled out her phone texting her parents that she was on her way. She thought about sending one to Alese but the thought of scaring her best friend was too tempting.

---

After a nice meal with her parents they went to work and she tossed around ideas for a new look. The department heads nodded and took notes to take to the associates to start writing the code. She left them at 4 PM with the plethora of designs that she had dropped off earlier in the week.

Getting in the car she put up her sunglasses. “Alese’s work Max.”

“Yes Miss.”

The chauffeur pulled up to the shop and Chandi swung out putting her sunglasses back on as she walked into the shop. “Alese dearest are you still not done yet?” Chandi came up to the counter. “Jasper you know the drill you’re off for the day.” Chandi handed him money to get home.

The room is...dull. And dark. Wafts of smoke or fog maybe peel up off the floor, float up and disappear up into the dark expanse of the area above a single small tea table in the dead center of the room. Apart from the darkness and lack of furniture, the room is not empty. Oh no, not at all. Animal shapes of varying kinds of cute, sweet or adorable roam about the room. Lupine, canine and canid forms derp about. Mustelid, rodent and lapine forms hop and skitter around at random. Feline forms lounge at random. Avian forms lighting upon invisible perches at random.

But it's the voices at set this apart from some strange cyberspace cartoon serial.

"The death on the Spire, this death will likely cause ripples." This said by a petite pachyderm avatar.

"Worrisome this is indeed. Do we have some clue how he died?" His said by a crow avatar, that perches on the shoulders of a tired looking panda.

"Nay merely that he died performing some courier job. And no package on his corpse." A wizened looking snow hare says this.

"What do our elders advise?" A small vole calls.

And the room turns to.look at a few animal forms sitting among them all. All too a one chibified or cartoon-like in look hut each one a pillar of their community. The Elders sometimes called the Master Fabricators of The Pack. A dragon speaks, his voice pitched up to an almost silly degree, Dr4co, who heads Dragonshead Fabrications, "We are missing some faces. And we do not wish to make a ground breaking decision without atleast half the Elders here. We need atleast...-"

Dr4co stops talking as the ground beside him mounds and folds, and out of a hole dug out of soft earth that was not there before climbs, a cartoonishly annoyed looking Honey badger. With a shake and a cartoonish lick of his chops Honey Badger looks around then stomps on the floor, "Trying to leave us out are we?" A chibi mako shark swims over and nose butts the Honey Badger saying, "You got the same invite we did old man. We're just all on time." Honey Badgers dramatic death emote causes some laughter. Getting up he grumbles, "if we need an ambassador to Sk@te for whatever is happening..." A cacophony of voices go up as a discussion erupts over this. Badger calls into the din and the talking almost stops entirely, "I volunteer!" This is answered by Dr4co coughing out "Wait...you volunteer!?!?" And the Honey Badger avatar begins to laugh.

Back in the Now, the world of the Meat. Honey Badger looks about the old service tunnel he's in, "Yes this should be...it." and presses the button to activate the small lift.

He came up, in a near invisible alcove just outside Alese Piety's current location. The Badger mask seeming to just casually and nonchalantly appear out of a wall, and looking down at Alese, his voice sounds warm, welcoming, but still I all monotone cleansed tone, "Hello ma'am Piety, we come bearing gifts today. Mayhap are you...buying?" The neon edged Badger masks quirks to one side, "Behold a brand new set of Lifter arms, great for the laborer, six wonderfully honed vibro blades, a newly sewn armored vest of the best quality my best shapers can make. As well as a few extra sundries." He finishes showing off a few other weapons, articles of clothing and ammo bundles. He tilts the box he carries it all in towards Alese, "Yours for the right price. Or trade." He makes a curious friendly sound, almost as if the masked man is smiling.

She always finished the Strykers by testing the turret, not just because it was a natural stopping point with the rest of the systems on the main body concluded, but also because it was fun to spin the gun around, especially if it had a water cannon. These two were interesting though, and something she had not seen before. There was a main water tank, but it was smaller with two additional tanks filling in the reduced area. The plumbing was also complex, almost like a soda machine where chemicals were meant to be blended before being fired out of the cannon. Normally, she would have driven it down to the reservoir and tested the settings on the spray, but that work order line had been specifically deleted. Then there was the fact that the additional tanks and downstream lines were all rated for high levels of hazardous contents which was very suspect. MegaCity Administration apparently didn’t want anyone outside the fold knowing anything further and that just made her more curious. She took her time with both vehicles making mental notes, but absolutely no pictures. Music blared from a pink boombox down on the hull as she sat cross-legged on top of the turret, a heavy, jobsite style laptop in her lap. Servo motors wined and chirped with newness as she spun the turret around, raising and lowering the cannon and grinning a bit at how easily amused she could be when no one was looking.

“Run the calibration one more time and we’re done.” Alese sat with her hands free of the controls while her drone obediently ran the test program from the cab once more, causing the turret to move again through all of its articulation limits. She could feel her stomach growl as the movement finished and with everything appearing to be in the green she shut the laptop down with finality, stopping the music and bringing about a calm silence of accomplishment. “God, I’m starving…” She groaned and stood up, stretching a bit. One more thing… then one more then, just one more after that, and before she knew it she’d been going for several hours straight. However, now she was thankfully finished and both contracts were completed, though technically not really until they got paid, but she had done her part and they were on schedule. One had to appreciate the tedious, easy jobs, she briefly mused before lamenting that if she had to do another disgusting automated street sweeper any time soon, she was just going to cry. Another grumble and her thoughts quickly returned to food. She happily climbed down the side of the huge vehicle and found herself face to face with a dark, feral-masked creature staring directly at her as though it had just been waiting there the whole time and she nearly fainted.

“Gyah!” She yelped as it felt like her feet literally left the floor and her electrified posture fell back against the cool exterior of the vehicle. For a split second she had just resigned herself to perish, but the voice that followed from the imposing figure was instantly familiar and had already started into his sales pitch. Monotone and professional as he was, she could sense there was a hint of amusement at her expense. Feeling her heart pound, Alese started for a breath until a coffee cup suddenly shattered against Honey Badger’s hardened exterior. The pieces fell to the floor and she looked up to see her drone holding a plate with a sandwich. Having sensed her elevated heart rate from one of her wristbands and heard her shocked gasp, it dutifully moved to her defense though it was presently without any weapons. “Stahp!” She cried hoarsely, still with her heart racing, however it had already thrown the plate which similarly broke against him. “STAHP!” She yelled this time and waved her hand. There was a moment of paused silence before, indignantly, it threw the sandwich as well, which flopped against him and slowly dropped to the floor. The drone drifted away cautiously and Alese leaned back again, rubbing her fingertips over her temples, taking a deep breath and brushing loose strands of hair aside. “Sorry…” She said, exhaling with a huff. “I’m still training it… Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She said, regaining some composure.

Alese looked over some of Badger’s presentation for a moment as the drone returned with a broom and pan, though it kept its gaze focused on the guest as it worked. “I might have some stuff for you this time…” She replied and glanced over towards her main toolbox. “You probably should see this though,” She said and removed the large fairing that concealed the water tank beneath the MCPD chassis. “See if you notice anything different.” She said, letting the large panel hinge to the floor so he could see before stepping away and drawing a large welding curtain in front of the car in the back. ‘Ma’am Piety’ or ‘Madame Piety’ had such a nice ring to it she thought as she continued over towards her toolbox where she had saved a few items for him specifically: a synthetic nylon IR Laser/Illuminator with an extra visible beam, a compact, field capable RF Spectrum Analyzer no bigger than a datapad and a printed manual for an ancient, air-cooled internal combustion engine just because she thought he would like it. She was in the middle of gathering the items when a chime indicated someone at the counter. Her shoulders dropped for a moment with a sigh, wondering who it could possibly be. Not many people used the front door, but the voice did cause her another surprise. “Hold on,” She said to Badger, skittering across the shop floor and leaving him to his examinations.

The door to the spartan counter area cracked open and Alese poked her head through. The drone popped in right over her shoulder taking stock of another visitor. “Hey!” She said with a bright smile, though she kept the rest of her clothing: an old corporate t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and loose cargo capris, concealed behind the door, feeling instantly embarrassed of her laborer appearance while Chandi, as usual, looked like she just stepped away from a photo shoot. “Were we supposed to be going somewhere?” She cocked her head a bit as she spoke, though she knew before she asked the question what the answer was going to be.

@BigPapaBelial
@Almalthia

Hotshot was in the middle of swinging between buildings when the call came through. As his feet hit solid ground, he opened up a comm line with Saturnine. The "Spire Kids" had caused quite the stir when they first turned up with Firebird years ago. While some may have protested some Heir's 'experiments' joining the Cell, the duo were quick to prove their worth.

"So glad you could join us today, Sat. Hope this little commotion didn't interrupt any important networking down on the Street?" Hotshot bit back his smirk as he slid underneath an electronic billboard. The gaps between the buildings were steadily getting smaller as Hotshot left the Metro Street sector and headed for one of the many Backstreets. "As long as I've got you on the line, I'll need someone to reach out to our friendly Cells: New Wave, Vendetta, The Orphans if you can find where Baba holed them up this week. If Rotor really WAS hit up for a job, we'll need to know if anyone else got a sketchy offer in the last few days. I'm going to hit up a contact of my own and see if I can pry any information. We don't know what we're dealing with yet and I'm not losing another member of Afterburn before I find out who's ass we have to kick. Meet me at Jigen's when you've finished. I need a meal..."

Hanging up the call, Hotshot found himself heading towards Sawtooth Street in the slums. With a practiced motion, jumped off the building mid-stride and caught himself on the rail of a disused fire escape. With his momentum, Hotshot swung himself from rail to rail as he dropped down to street level. These days, Sawtooth Street might as well be abandoned. Most of the buildings were either vacated, falling apart, or some combination of the two. Despite coming here for nearly a year now, Hotshot hadn't dared to come at night since Demonio members would no doubt be lurking around. With a quick check to ensure no one was watching, he turned down an alleyway and headed straight for a metal door at the end.

At first glance, it looked like any other high security door in the Megacity, but a cursory glace through Skynet revealed a series of Holotags all through the alleyway. Various tags for Sk8te Cells long since dead or warnings to turn back. Upon looking at the door, the viewer would see a tag that wasn't affiliated with any Sk8te Cell. A solitary image of a shark graced the metal. The animal itself looking to be a combination of animal and machine; its glowing eyes almost following Hotshot as he approached and knocked.

"Ent3r..." A voice emanated from inside as the electronic lock slid open. Moving inside, Hotshot found himself in a room that glowed blue with the light from multiple computer monitors. The tiny room was crammed wall to wall with computers and TVs all displaying footage from the news broadcast this morning. Seated in the middle of it all was a vaguely humanoid figure in an oversized jacket. The person's features were indistinguishable thanks to the hood being pulled up, as well as the metal shark mask covering the face. The figure turned to face the Sk8ter and gestured for Hotshot to come closer. "Hello as usual, Felix," said Mak0. The electronic voice that came from within the helmet was different every time he walked through the Blue Door. This time, the voice that came out sounded like an electronically distorted child. "You're lucky I just finished my meeting. Now... What can the master builder Mak0 do for my favorite customer?"

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't use that name?" Hotshot unsheathed the Rip Current from his belt and set it on a table next to the weaponsmith, "Either way, I'm certain you already know why I'm here." Hotshot gestured to all the screens. "First I want information. You're tapped into every CCTV feed within the city. I want to know who approached Rotor and where from. Second..." He followed Mak0's... eyes? helmet? gaze as it turned towards the Rip Current. "I need bullets, and you get to work on one of your favorite toys again."

---

---

Smiling at Alese’s utter focus on work, Chandi nodded. “I swear you would leave your head lying around if it weren’t attached.” She wiped her hands together as if clearing that thought from the air. “Well, let's see what you’re working on.” Looking around Chandi smiled at the parts and things. Something about this place calmed her. Perhaps since Alese was her best friend and had been since she was fourteen.

Walking with a purpose around the counter Chandi passed Alese with a sharp tattoo snap of her stilettos. She brushed past briskly walking to the back. Alese was always there and Chandi was sure there was something she had been working on before Chandi pulled her away. The sharp tattoo cut off suddenly. So suddenly that if Alese was following she would almost barrel into Chandi as the taller woman stepped aside with so much grace that she almost seemed to glide; to catch Alese by her arm gently. “Alese… why is there a robo stuffie…” Her eyes narrowed at the… “Honey Badger?”

Raising an eyebrow, Chandi looked at Alese. Alese was here alone? Surely that is just a bot… Chandi looked around, and yeah the shop was empty. “You know what this looks like right? If you need a good BOB I can get you one. If you buy any off the street you have no idea who has touched it. It’s new? It doesn’t look new.” If that thing was a pack member Chandi was packing Alese up and getting her away from here.

Moving closer, Chandi tapped on the mask gently. After all she needed to know that her bestie was safe. The mask felt like metal that she rarely touched anymore. She was all about the designs, not the textiles. Turning back to Alese the dismissal of the bot had her looking her friend over. “This will not do. We’re going to go haunt Vivian’s and have some fun. Come on, we still have time to get you properly attired. Yes, yes, yes and comfortable with it. Yes, yes before we get there.”

Past objections were waived away with her exquisitely manicured nails. Chandi tapped her chin. “Leather pants? Tank top? We can keep the converse but please a pair that doesn’t have stains. What do you think Alese?”

'08:04' was the display on the bedside clock. Julia's eyes went wide with panic as she tried to scramble out of the covers. Shit! She was four minutes late for cell inspection!

She stopped. There was no cell inspection. She was free.

Julia sighed and scratched at her messy bed-hair. She looked around her bedroom, still unable to believe that this was her home now. Her bedroom alone was over four times larger than her cell. A king-size bed in the middle of the room. Very soft foam mattress. An empty walk-in wardrobe because her clothes were all folded up inside the chest of drawers. She had yet to buy nice clothes despite having the money for it. She tried to go clothes shopping in the Spire once, and her courage ran out. Nobody wants to see her old, scarred one-armed body in a cocktail dress, least of all herself. The clerks were practically begging her to the contrary, desperate to make the sale. She wanted to shoot them both then and there.

After a quick shower, Julia got dressed in baggy cargo pants and a navy blue vest. She always liked to dress comfortably on gym days. She entered the main living are of her open plan Spire apartment. It was swish. Intimidatingly nice. She'd earned this, but still felt wierd enjoying it. It felt like living in a hotel you needed to be careful not to trash because one day the real owner's going to tell you that your time's up. But this was hers. She was the real owner. Her benefactor had paid in cash for the apartment. They'd even asked Julia if she was sure she wanted somewhere so small and basic. Julia assured them that any Spire house nicer than this and Julia wouldn't be able to sleep at night.

She cooked herself a simple breakfast of bacon and eggs then crashed on the couch and watched junk TV on her home cinema while she ate, more for the background noise than anything else. It reminded her of the buzz of the prison cafeteria. Eating in silence made Julia self-conscious now. She didn't want to hear herself chew.

All of this, had been done with only one arm. only now, at 9:30am, did Julia finally walk to her arm stand and attach her arm. The robot leg, she couldn't live without. The robot arm, she was re-learning how to live with. That's why her frequent visits to the gym every morning were so important. Yes, she'd gotten soft after thirty jears incarcerated, but the main purpose of her gym sessions were to get her brain used to being able to use her left arm again. She'd spent longer without a left arm than with one at this point in her life. Even so, it was shocking how quickly it was coming back to her.

She fished her gym clothes from her unironed clean laundry pile, tossed them in a duffel bag, pocketed her keys and threw on a leather jacket as she left her apartment. The door autolocked behind her, and she was off to the Spire's gym.

We are not

Honey Badger

ing the witness your honor

Honey Badger nodded slowly as Alese spotted him. He then jerked. What was...? The cup first with a tinkle. The being looked around for the source, then the plate. He peered up at the small bot, "Interesting rudimen..." And the splat of the sandwich, which slid off his mask trailing what ever sauce was in it and a piece of iceberg lettuce left in its wake. Honey Badger sniffed, "Commendable rescue instincts for something clearly so young innthe state of understanding. I look forward to seeing ita growth." No trace of offense, just interest.

The masked fellow could only be grinning judging by the inflection and tone of his voice, "We regret to say, that no we are not attempting to give you a cardiac medical situation Madam Piety, in fact we merely wanted to expedite the greeting situation...yes that is it...yes." The Badger masked person sets the crate of items atop a table and looked to the vehicle.

And vocalizes curiously, "Oh...a....puzzle...wonderful...something new to study." As Alese ventured off to find somethings to trade Honey Badger leaned in and checked the section of the vehicle he is shown. His left arm flexing and shifting, then opening up into a myriad of various tools. Miniature pistons crackling and firing and gears turning a few screws whizzing as a manipulator arm slides around and into place while a small light flickers on. By the time Alese returns, HB is shoulder and head deep under the vehicle, looking at the tank and its connections, "Interesting all the connections are reinforced and safety welded. The tank it self is not MCPD Stan..." Thean leans up and out his left arm shifting and folding up in on itself, the sheer number of tools that were on display folding up and sliding away until his arm looks as normal as anyone else's, "Ah the...trade, yes."

He was looking over the items Alese had offered in trade, when she rushed to the door. He looked up from her perusal of the items for trade as Chandi entered. He stood stone still as Chandi approached. He then almost purred, "GEOnet connection established, profile Chandrilla Jocelyn Rae Thibodaux...verified. CybertronRx...heir...apparent...confirmed." the eyes behind that Badger mask briefly flare. And he nods, "It has been a fair amount of time Madame Chandi...it is...nice?...yes nice to see you again." He shifted again, "Clearly you have plans. I believe this trade is fair Madam Piety. The technical manual is worth its weight in platinum at least!...yes. We accept in the...interest of the Badger Sett. And look forward to our next interaction." He gathered up the items that Alese had presented, "If there is nothing else we shall leave you two...lovely...yes...lovely ladies to your fascination?" Uiney Badger waited a moment or two just in case there is more. Clearly ready to melt away into the darkness just as he appeared.

---

Within the gym. Among the multitude of men and women of various shapes and sizes, there is a single woman that no one dared to approach, her physical body alone is very toned, but not a standout among the various bodybuilders within the gym. And yet, people still nonetheless stayed a good distance away from her as she practiced her punches and kicks on a significantly reinforced punching bag. The woman visibly getting tired, but still pushing through the exhaustion as she did the entire routine again for another 30 minutes. It took some time for the woman to completely give up on the punching bag that was never going to yield, her punches, kicks, and various other tortures she inflicted on the object not earning a single groan of pain, but she was done. She felt she had done her day's work of physical exercise.

Only at this moment of respite though, did Xiang Min. The CEO of Stalwart Defense and Security, the woman so many rival corporations tried to kill unsuccessfully, noticed that there was also another person, a fair bit older than her. But nonetheless possessing an internal fire that was easily noticeable in her workout routine. This woman was bench pressing and lifting weights like there was no tomorrow, her robotic right arm complimenting her very much human left arm. It's easy for someone with her experience to notice that this is an individual with a history, perhaps not a very good history but a long and storied one nonetheless, and it would be foolish for her to not extend the courtesy of a Purnama to someone like that.

She waited until the Gray-Haired woman finished her sets. Seemingly exhausted after lifting so many weights, and outstretched her hand. "Hey there! Never saw you in this gym before." She greeted her. "It's almost like the gym gave us a wide berth or something. Never understood why they did that. But hey! It's not like I'm complaining myself."

"I'm Xiang Min Purnama. But just call me Xiang Min for short. It's nice meeting someone who doesn't seem afraid of me at a glance, may I help you with the weights ma'am? Seems like it's only the two of us for the moment." The woman said. Trying to make sure whoever this Gray-haired woman is doesn't feel too intimidated by her presence. Honestly, it's not her fault that she had to modify her body to be very hard to kill, it's not like she is the one who initiated the multiple assassination attempts on her life. Fucking bastards.

Even though Alese was two years older than Chandi, the redhead’s presence commanded leadership. Aside from her social position, she was naturally tall and on her heels, towered over Alese as she strode into the shop as if it were hers for surprise inspection. It wasn’t really a matter of offense, just the way of things. Alese followed, glad that her dad was not around to see her opening the floor to two diametrically opposed MegaCity paradigms, though she was clearly nervous at the thought of him, or her mother even, arriving at any time in the middle of this impromptu gathering. Chandi was a “regular” at Iron Technica in a way and kept a lot of doors open in the Spire. She knew that her dad still had several contacts there, however there was always a tinge of bitterness, at least she thought from him, when it came to dealing with those still within the corporate matrix. They had put him out and his survival in spite of it had become one of his defining characteristics, not just as a man, but as her father. She could have easily moved into Chandi’s absolutely amazing Spire apartment and lived a different life, but it didn’t feel right and often made her think of her transient older brother.

Alese peeked out from behind Chandi, much in the same way as she had peeped inside the office door, looking past the other woman at whatever had stopped her in her tracks. ’BOB’… She furrowed her brow for a moment, not remembering the acronym, and mouthed the name to herself watching Badger already chest deep under the MCPD vehicle. “Bob…-” The terminology finally hit her and she recoiled with a red flush. “Wait! No! Ew!” The drone cocked curiously to one side, not sure how to interpret this emotion against its primary directives, but documenting it regardless along with her vitals. “EMBARRASSMENT?” It hummed in a heavily synthesized voice, again different from the vocal pattern it used before.

“Oh, shut up.” Alese quipped and crossed her arms, still red as Chandi continued her curious evaluation of their other guest. Something akin to a deep-space explorer examining an alien species. She understood Badger well enough to know he was at least intrigued at the discovery and keeping contacts like him happy, helped her street cred tremendously. She smiled that he was satisfied with her trade. For all those that she did barter with, she put genuine effort into finding things that were not only useful, but appealed to their individual tastes. Being a denizen of the streets and rooftops, she knew he would find use for the hard parts, but didn’t have the slightest clue what he would want with an old engine manual other than it might be something entertaining. “Perfect, I knew you would like that.” She said, walking back over to her toolbox and stepping up on a small stool, opening and closing a few drawers as she peered inside, momentarily searching. “Now he’s just trying to be smooth.” She said to Chandi, rolling her eyes playfully at HB’s compliment, before retrieving a handwritten list of items and small diagrams she had put together.

Alese glanced towards the myriad of pipes, fittings and valves under the police vehicle once more before handing the documents over for him to scan to his memory. “Get these few things for me and we’re square.” There was a tiny hint of challenge in her voice. The items weren’t overly difficult to find, but were very specific: An electrical heating element with a variable resistor, several copper fittings of different sizes and reduction and two carbon block pressed gravity filters- all of which needed to be pharmaceutical grade. She probably could have got most of the items through Chandi, but this was a fair side quest for him considering the value of her trades and would save her some considerable time, not to mention questions. Plus the fact that these were components to a greater system that he wasn’t privy would agitate the logics in his mechanized-digital headspace considerably. It gave her a little smile of satisfaction, getting even for him scaring the life out of her.

Turning back to Chandi, she let her shoulders drop in feigned exhaustion at business concluded. If they were going to Vivian’s, that meant there was going to be copious libations, which she was fine with, especially on a Friday, however at only 5’5”, she wasn’t exactly known for her strong tolerance. Still, she had hardly left the shop in over two weeks and was feeling again, at least somewhat, like getting out. “Just let me lock up and grab some clothes- I promise they’ll be suitable.” She spoke teasingly, like a teen addressing the critical evaluation of her mother. “I’ll just get cleaned up at your place and we can go from there.”

@BigPapaBelial
@Almalthia

When Julia got to the gym, she decided to start with her old daily prison workout routine as a warm up. Fifty pushups, fifty situs, fifty crunches, fifty bicycle crunches, twenty minutes on the treadmill as a subsitute for ten laps of the field, followed by fifty squats. With that done, she waited for one of the posturing bronzed pretty boys to be done with the nearest bench. He took one look at the middle age woman covered in scars and wlked away in a mix of fear and slight revulsion. She clearly wasn't an heir with her messy grey hair and makeup-barren face. Julia sighed. She used to be the most attractive girl in the E street nightclubs. Bigger pond, different fish, thirty years later. Not the same story.

Now a little pissed off, she hit the benches. Pressing this much would have been easy. Still technically was easy in terms of the reps. But what she was trying to train with this were both her back and shoulder muscles, and her coordination. A robotic arm was a little too easy to move quickly and easily compared to a human one, and she wanted both of her arms to move in sync. In a way, having gotten used to being one-armed and having forgotten how to use her left arm was a blessing, as it made these coordination exercises easier. She didn't need to unlearn anything the same way people only augmenting one side needed to.

Her shoulders were always undertrained. She used to work out so that she could fight, and run. But she wanted to achieve this without adding too much bulk to her feminine frame. But that ship has now sailed. So what if she gets broad shoulders? A robot arm is strong but a punch from it is only as strong as the power you can pack into your shoulder.

She lost track of time as she zoned out, disassociated from her body and started thinking about other things while her arms kept on moving by themselves now they'd gotten the rhythm down. Only when her right arm and left shoulder finally started to feel physically exhausted did she come back to reality and place the bar back on its rack. She wiped the sweat from her face and arm with her gym towel, before one of their heirs approached and addressed her.

Julia caught herself thinking 'why is she holding out her left hand? I don't have a left hand' before remembering the arm. She shook Xiang's hand with her prosthetic and nodded in greeting.

"Yeah, I'm new here. Only moved into the Spire a little under two weeks ago," Julia answered. She wasn't intimidated by Xiang, but she was impressed. Julia had been checking in on Xiang out of the corner of her eye every minute or two. She'd seen women who were like this in prison; strong, heavily augmented, fighters. Killers, even. But not so much in the Spire. And she clearly knew how to fight fight, not just throw punches. Julia liked this stranger.

"I'm Julia Kray. And I just got done on the bench but I was going to hit the bells next if you want to talk there. Gotta say, don't see very many heirs who can fight like that."

@Kumbaris

---

Xiang Min smiled at Julia's proposition. She was quite tired, but the short talk with her indicated that this is someone that she needed to keep tabs on. Moving into the Spire? Not a lot of people could do that, the money and connections alone she would have is going to be substantial. If she would prove an enemy to her plans, then she has to plan something to make her as insignificant as possible, or possibly... well. She doesn't like it, but it's not like she hasn't done it before in her lifetime. Sometimes people need a push in the right direction after all.

"Yeah! I can do that. Although both my arms are robotic now, so uhh... probably get something that trains the biceps more than anything." She responded. Finishing the weightlifting routine with Julia and going quickly to the dumbbells. Both women quickly showed their musculature as both Xiang Min and Julia lifted these dumbells and flexed their biceps and triceps for all the gym to see. "Ugh...rraaaahhh!!" Xiang Min cried as she finally finished her reps for the day. "Sorry about that. I have a particularly intense fight with that punching bag over there, was already feeling tired but eh, might as well hear your story out for a little bit."

"And as for your question." Xiang Min responded to Julia's inquiry. "I kinda have to. Wasn't originally this buff initially. In fact, I didn't know much about fighting at all, not until I was 21 at least. But... well, circumstances are the mother of all necessities, and I kinda have to learn it myself. Have fought people that would really like to have me bleed out in the street or captured for... their own designs I guess. I swear, the corporate environment can be just as deadly as the streets outside the Spire sometimes..." She sighed. despondently at that thought. "I still remember that first taste of combat, the ambush on 72nd Street. Was damn near panicking at one point."

A short burst of memories flooded Xiang Min's mind. The acrid smoke, the screaming, bullets streaming about. She had just gotten her augmented arms at that point, and it was equal parts luck and skill that saved the day before SDS forces arrived to help her and the remaining survivors. "Don't know about you, but you never forget the feeling of your first firefight, and the first time you killed someone. I'm pretty sure someone with your... history knows quite a bit about that. I never got used to it myself though."

"Aaaanyway." She finished her reps. Putting the dumbells back in its place. "You seem like someone I'd like to know more. Wanna go hang out a little bit more after we hit the showers? I know a place called Vivian's. Good bar, good drinks, and even better food. Pretty sure someone that just moved to this district would enjoy it." Xiang Min may not realize it. But she has just been working out for well over 2 hours at this point. The physical exertion of her limbs and torso really did make her perception of time a bit... wobbly.

Gosh, she hoped Mingfan wouldn't worry too much, she knew that her sister would be fine most of the time, and with a potential friend to take care of, she decided that her co-CEO could work more hours right now. Besides, should there be an emergency, Mingfan always has her sister on Speed dial, so she's not overly concerned about the situation right now.

Julia was across from Xiang, and watched her curl the dumbells, as well as listened to her. The older woman's brow furrowed. "When you say 'robotic', you mean you've installed augments inside your natural arms, right? I don't mean to stick my nose where it doesn't belong but you could say I've developed a distaste for the rush to willingly get rid of natural limbs in their entirety. I never had a choice in the matter. This arm is only a replacement. It doesn't have any mods or gimmicks. No hidden blades or guns. I could have requested them but...that would be admitting I wouldn't rather have my real arm back..."

She looks down at her arm as it curls a heavy dumbbell with no issues at all. The hydraulics in the elbow were making easy work of the movement. She sighed with a melancholy longing and returned her attention to Xiang. Once they both finished their reps, Julia put her bells back on the rack, where an attendant dressed in white shorts and a collared shirt took them away for sterelising. This was after all a Spire gym. She listened to Xiang talk about her past and rested her metal hand on her hip, impressed.

"Wow! I would not have guessed you only started fighting that late in life, though if you're involved in that sort of thing, it makes sense. As for me, there...was nothing to get used to. I had my first firefight and took my first life when I was thirteen years old. I was E Street, you see," she explained. A scarred, unkempt lady with a rough accent and the air of a killer suddenly moving to the Spire made a lot more sense now. However, it didn't seem like she was going to divulge anything more detailed than that. E street stay in the good books of their Heir benefactors (and by extention, Law Enforcement) by keeping their mouths shut and following orders.

"And sure! I'm down for hitting Vivian's! As long as I can stop by my apartment to change first. I am not going to Vivian's in gym gear with no makeup," Julia agreed as they both walked in the direction of the showers side by side. "Vivian's used to be the Black Cat, right?"

Vivian's was renamed from the Black Cat before Xiang was even old enough to get in.

---

Location: Lattanzi Estate, Regia Maria Territory, Red Light District
Mentions: N/A

A kettle whistle in that far distance, green tea for a sister at bed. The click...click...click of a clock, hand at play lightly scolding. The muffled footsteps down the hall, socks on carpet smothered by walls.

Eyes slowly open. He could smell the coffee in that far distance; his father lacked any inclination at all to sleep to the reasonable time of five, it seemed, as artificial as that time might ever seem. His mother was nearly worse, though she had diverted her interests to retirement, it seemed, as much as a Don might. Remo could find her painting as often as he could find her getting information from a Capo, sending another out, and so forth. He rubbed his eyes briefly before sitting up in bed, sweeping legs out with some difficulty. Thick, honest blankets had smothered Remo away.

That look to the side, another shape huddled away under the red checkered blankets, black tresses crowning out from the edge. He couldn’t help but smile, leaning just a shade back to hook the edge of the blanket with his finger. Pulling it down slowly, cautiously, carefully, the man nodded with some semblance of satisfaction. Cora still looked just as beautiful as when he first met her, olive skin and all, snoozing away. A snore seemed to rock the room. Remo froze as it passed, moving the blanket back to where it once lay. She snored just as when he first met her, too. It’d been one of the great conflicts of life when they had been young, though now he couldn’t help but make jokes over it. Moving off the bed and into plushed slippers, the old man began his day in earnest.

In the shower, steam rising above the curtains, he thought through his day. Hot water cloaked him, waterfalling from a hung head as hour to hour was thought, shifted, considered. Remo had a schedule, true, and a man to manage a schedule, to manage meetings for business, but he still enjoyed the practice. It’d been something he’d come to get used to, a little practice of thinking the day at the day, not a week before the day. Things changed in a week, but this week…not so much. A thought, and he’d connected to the estate’s systems. News shifted here, there, news not from the Spire but from Regia Maria’s own information-movers, own reporters, own informants. Nothing shifted under red lights without his knowing, or at the very least without someone friendly enough to his knowing and speaking. It all moved behind his eyes as soap turned to lather, semi-abrasive particles scrubbing away any hint of blemish.

A man had died in the Spire, one of the Sk8te couriers who had taken a job but had been found with no job to show. It was interesting enough, true, and spoke something of the interior conflicts among the puffed pricks who sat there, but did not say much. Sparse details spoke who he was, save for those a surface search might find. A name, a relative age that was roughly correct, a contemplation to be sure. It did not say much, because he was inexperienced…he may have died before the job had even begun, the package - whatever it may be - not at all being in the hands of the murderer. Yet…if he had been murdered for it, and murdered at the Spire, that meant that one Heir moved against another, had a good enough tool for the job, and good enough in this instance meant that the crew would not be foolish to kill a messenger who had no message to steal. They would have waited, and if compromised there, killed him on the rooftops. Couriers were good, true, but Remo had not met many who outran bullets, drones, and worse…and that assumed the courier was good. This one had not been. The package would have been stolen. So, then…interesting. A smile touched the corner of his face.

Remo looked closer. He had been Afterburn, people the Don had worked with before on one occasion or another for specific items…he knew that leader, too. Digging had been digging had been digging, yet he’d found enough information about that kid to know what there exactly was under the exterior. He was a scared little boy, would be the first impression Remo ever had, one who was in over his head. There had been some uses for him, though. Some.

More news…more news…there had been so, so much going on while he had slumbered. He would have a busy day ahead of him. He would have a very busy day indeed. A free hand grasped at a high speed razor as the man considered it all.

---

Location: Vivian’s, E Street Territory, Spire District
Mentions: N/A

“Sir, I still don’t recommend this.”

“Why?”

The steps down the street weren’t taken in hiding, or behind the tinted, bulletproof windows of an armored vehicle, nor was Remo’s entourage exactly inconspicuous among the other crowds of the Spire roads. No, black suits strode the earth, and a path was carved before them as ancient sages once carved a path through an ocean for his own. Remo felt light on his feet, heavy coat shifting in the slight winds as he felt the gaze of those on the street. They were a great many types. The buzz of drones shifted overhead. The Don knew those cameras saw him, too.

Some knew him for what he was by image alone, by his face. He could see the flash of recollection in the eyes, that such was a Don of the Black Maria. Others took a moment, a click of a thought to access a database for a face, a motion, something or another, and they had that look of knowing too. They moved a shade quicker along the street, though Remo could see which ones considered their loyalties and which ones did not. The latter did not make to move to the other side of the street, the former simply moved about their day at that faster speed. They didn’t want to seem to concerned about the Black Maria. People would be watching.

Across that street, Remo could see shapes gathering, too. Some of them were agents from E Street, gold-gilded thugs who wanted to see if the man would offer any sorts of insults for them to act on who weren’t old enough to remember blood spilled before could always spill again. Others were men with cameras, vultures who haunted Heirs, who wanted their own little scoop about things. He was glad that reputation made them keep their distance. Such vermin would not be fit to waste bullets on.

“Because it’s not safe. Because you still haven’t told me exactly the reason, sir.”

“Of course it’s safe. If I get killed, blood paints these streets, washes them red. They know that. If some thugs, off-shoots acting on their own who want reputation, begin after us you can kill them and we’ll simply send condolences to the other side…along with a payment, true, but…rendere pan per focaccia. But they have every interest in keeping such off-shoots far, far away from me. I die and they pay more than they can ever afford.”

A moment passed as they walked. The Don knew Iacopo wouldn’t ask the second question again. It would seem too needy. The wind seemed to whistle between them as the group continued down that street. Finally, he broke the silence, smiling as he spoke.

“And I have heard things. People moving. Even the flies around here talk…and I want to meet someone here I have not seen in a long, long time. Memories, Capo, memories. And some new ones to make.”

Color briefly drained from Iacopo’s face before he composed himself. The man had been old enough to recall when things had finally come to a close. Such early scars were rooted deep in a person’s soul, deep enough to still let fear grip you.

“Ah, fuck. Sir.”

And there was the door.

The rushing wave of brisk morning air enveloped Baba as she ascended along the retracting line of her grappling gun. The swift sensation like a gentle breeze massaged the sides of her face, and graced her with the onset of a second wind to which she had grown all too accustomed over the years. A shell of vigor would embolden her as her feet landed on the lofting rooftop above, and the encampment she had huddled The Lost into came into view just a couple of leaps away. Not missing a beat in the process, she holstered the grappling hook, and stepped away from the ledge.

She stopped only for a second to double check the well-being of a rather sizable package that she had carried all the way from the main strip of Metro Street. To her comfort, it was still secure and in one piece; she was thankful that the bag had good handles. A deep breath brought in a warm, savory aroma alongside the cool highrise air. The resulting rumble in her stomach prompted a self-affirming nod, and the resuming of her trek that was now in its home stretch.

A tapping together of her heels, and the airblades that had idly adorned her shins activated, elevating her a good foot above the ground. Gripping onto the package more firmly, she began carving circles around the flat of the rooftop. Each hovering stride brought with it an uptick in momentum. One… Two… she counted along as she made successive laps. Three… Four… she was just about ready. Five! Baba reached her needed speed. Carrying that speed, she cut out of the circling movement, and cut straight towards the edge of the building in the direction of the next flat.

The leap was calculated. She had meticulously tested it not too long ago; it was a necessity for setting up camp in a new spot.

Just as she anticipated, her laps had generated the required speed from which she could make the jump. She landed smoothly upon the next top, and seamlessly continued her strides as she cleared the next gap. The next after that was just as easy.

Finally, the last bound was before her. She whipped forward. She took the leap… she would make the jump… Almost.

Maybe she had miscalculated her own speed; or she was more fatigued than she had realized. Either way, her hangtime dipped sooner than she had expected. Rather than her feet touching down upon solid ground, she fell into what seemed an inevitable drop back down to the alleyways far below.

If not for a timely, and gritty grasping of the top ledge with her free hand, Baba’s story might have been cut short. Almost immediately after her hand clasped the rough exterior, a face appeared from above. The person offered a hand for Baba to take. Instead, Baba summoned her strength to hoist up the package into the outstretched hand of her would-be rescuer. “Take it!” she shouted. The other person obliged without question, taking up the bag by the handles. Her other hand freed, Baba pulled herself up and over the ledge and onto the rooftop where she rolled down to the floor and leaned against the wall behind her as her breath eased. “That was a close one,” she chuckled to the redheaded girl that stood over her, still holding the bag. “Thanks for the assist, Iommi.”

“Don’t mention it.” Iommi had set the bag down and pulled it open. “But next time,” she reached into the box within the bag, and pulled out white cup with a red outline of a mountain with the name “Shimazu” in bold font at its base. “Maybe save yourself before you save the food.”

Baba gave no retort beyond a single, hearty laugh before getting back on her feet. “How was the night?” she asked, dusting herself off.

“Went well enough. We layed low like you said. A few of the kids tried to sneak out, but we talked some sense into them.

“Good.”Baba looked past Iommi and upon the cluster of tarps and tents under which the rest of their Sk8ters remained asleep for the time being. The Lost… a hodgepodge of the Megacity’s abandoned, disowned, and orphaned youth, had come under Baba’s stewardship after a long run through other Sk8te Cells, most of which had since disbanded and faded to nothing but memories for those that had been a part of them. This morning, the Cell was in rare form; some forty people, tucked in peacefully as Baba and Iommi looked over them, constituted the entirety of The Lost. It was a miracle in Baba’s mind that they were all together in one place after being scattered about over the week prior. Even if it would only be for a day or two before some other Sk8te Cell pushed them out, she could rest easy knowing that everyone was alive and well before branching out to continue their hunt for a legitimate home.

“We can’t keep doing this, Baba.” Iommi broke the silence.

Baba cocked her head towards her friend. Her mouth opened, but the words hung just inside her lips.

“If we keep moving this way, we’ll be at the Outer Run before we find a place to settle.”

Baba threw her eyes away from Iommi, and outward into the urban horizon. The city spanned outward for hundreds of miles, such that the most distant rooftops fell into the veil of distance and out of view. Still visible though, and marking Iommi’s concern, was the wall within which the city was enclosed. The Outer Run was the last layering of structures before one reached the wall. It wasn’t a common place for Sk8ters to operate, as it was too far from any hubs of activity; the Cells that were there were as cut-throat as the Demonio, and as roughneck as The Pack. Few Sk8ters from the inner city ventured there, Baba included despite the extent to which she had surveyed the city in the past two years.

“I know. You’re right.” Baba snapped out of her trance and met eyes with Iommi. So much as her will and adrenaline could keep her going, there was no masking the reality that Baba O’Reilly was beyond exhausted by the constant moving, as was the rest of her Cell. “I-”

Baba’s next sentence was cut off by an abrupt humming from her Sk8ter specs. The Skynet was buzzing with activity. She lowered her specs and sifted through the stream of reports from the other Sk8ters. “Looks like something’s got everyone rattled,” she said while holding back a yawn. “All of Hotshot’s crew is scrambling. Damn!”

“What is it?” Iommi asked, pressing the question.

“Trouble,” Baba returned pointedly. “We gotta get the others up. Looks like we might have to cut our stay here shorter than we’d hoped for.” Baba fiddled with her specs until a marker showed up over her coordinates atop the Halcyon Building. She swallowed heavily as she did so; she had, afterall, ordered The Lost go off-grid for a short while. With the activity on the Net being at a fever pitch, it would only be a matter of time before someone would have to come looking for them. Even as she hoped it was all just Afterburn flexing or going out on a major job, she felt an uneasiness that pointed towards something more. As Iommi rallied up the other Sk8ters, Baba looked out in the direction of Metro Street, scanning to skyway for the eventual emissary.

Regardless, whatever was happening, they’d stick together this time.

---

Xiang Min was waiting in her car at the front entrance of Julia's apartment. Both the CEO and former E Street gangster agreed after their shower that both of them were going together to Vivian's to hang out. She wasn't sure why Julia called it the Black Cat, but a quick database search from Xiang Min's phone revealed the ancient name of the bar before it was renamed to Vivian's. "Huh, so this person is... quite a bit older than me." Xiang Min posited. "Must already be doing some stuff while I was still a kid. And considering how scarred her body is, probably someone that has done a lot of side business before ending up here."

Xiang Min's mind is slowly turning. Should she make a job offer to Julia? Assuming she even accepts, her upcoming ventures would need someone who knows this city inside and out, someone with as much experience as her could be a massive asset for SDS should she start making moves against anyone who dares defy her dreams. She is an old woman in a profession where people tend to die young, and that is not someone who's to be underestimated. She can easily see Julia being a fearful enemy should any of her rivals get a hold of her, and killing someone who just got into the spire, someone who just has a taste of the good life... She won't lie that it's sometimes necessary, but it will break her heart. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when someone knocked on her car's door, startling the blonde-haired woman. "Gah! Oh. It's just you." Xiang Min said. Opening the door of her car to let Julia in. "Alright, all dressed up? We'll just go to the bar then, alright?"

She hit the gas pedal on her car. And the custom-made engine of her vehicle cranked to life, whirling out a rumbling sound that even shocked Xiang Min. This particular car of hers was designed specifically so that the Biofuel engine it has in its hood would mimic the sound of American racing cars of the late 20th century, and by the heavens above it sounds beastly. "Sorry for the sound Julia." She said, rather startled by the sound. Even though she has had this car for two years at this point. "I kinda sorta made this car myself. Engine sound and all."

In truth, as Xiang Min drove the vehicle through the tight streets of the Spire, easily getting some interested looks from onlookers. The car she's driving is the only car she made almost from scratch. She had to get the steel frame made by another company, the engine pretty much custom-made, and all the bits of pieces within the vehicle (including the electronics and weaponry) had to be made specifically to fit the chassis of the vehicle. It took quite a bit of convincing, and not a small amount of bribery, to get this car street legal for the streets of Megacity-01. And considering the small fortune she expended making this car, she might as well use this vehicle for its intended purpose. A one-of-a-kind vehicle befitting a CEO of her reputation.

Sometimes, making a statement is not necessarily about getting the best dress, or having the biggest bank account. Just having a unique vehicle that defines your identity can send a better message than a million credits worth of stock options.

Soon enough, she parked her car in a small parking lot beside Vivian's. And both women got out and walked to the bar. The bouncer, all 145 kilograms of muscle, and mostly rebuffing people who tried to enter the bar, quickly mellowed out when he saw Xiang Min and Julia enter his view. Welcoming her and her friend to the establishment.

"C'mon, let's go to my usual spot." She says, inviting her to a set of rather comfy-looking sofas before she slumps into one of them. Sighing in comfort at the soft material hugging her. "I always loved this place's sofas. No idea how they make these things so soft and so comfortable." She said, just in time for a robot bartender to visit the duo, wondering what they would like to order. "A cold, sweet tea please, but please. Keep the sugar levels pretty low. I've just finished working out and gaining weight is the last priority on my list right now."

With her order placed. The blonde-haired CEO looked at Julia, her inquisitive eyes trained as Julia ordered something as well. "So. What's your story? I don't see a lot of people from outside the Spire move here. Not gonna judge you or spill your secrets or anything like that. I will confidently say that my lips are sealed. Unless you plan on killing my family that is." She half-jokingly said. "No, but seriously, I am fascinated, it's not every day I get to meet someone that can fight that I have to immediately kill."

After showering, Julia looked through her wardrobe for what to wear. Her old leather jacket had been irreperably damaged in the explosion that took her left arm and right leg. She'd been able to buy a few more leather jackets from 'retro' shops in Arcadium 15, though hearing them called retro had really pissed her off. They sold trenchcoats in that shop too. She knew of a few dead E street members and MCPD officers who'd be horrified to see that if they were still here.

After wearing a particularly shiny 'dress' one, a silver crop top that she would not have been able to pull off without the jacket over it, and tight leather pants, she then actually brushed her hair and did her makeup for once. The finished effect was that she now looked like a rather attractive, trendy woman in her early 40's as opposed to late 50's, if you ignored the greying hair. She took her handbag and her keys and headed out the door. She didn't need to look far or wonder which car was Xiang's. It was certainly a statement, and no doubt the car of an eccentric heir. She approached it and knocked on the window. After the door was opened for her, she slid into the passenger seat.

"Just me," She replied. "sorry, hope you weren't waiting too long. I had to remember how to dress up."

She was certainly tense when she heard the engine. It wasn't exactly a sound you'd associate with the healthy engine of a safe car. Her grip tightened against the edges of her seat. The sound apparently being deliberate was slightly reassuring but that was cancelled out by the heir apparently having made the car herself. After a while, she got used to the noise, and could see that Xiang was a very good driver. Julia had never owned her own vehicle but when she was ninteen, she had a boyfriend who owned a hoverbike. Riding on the back of that thing was the single scariest thing she had experienced in her life at that point, gunfights included.

Xiang easily got past the bouncer, a task that Julia always remembered being a gargantuan struggle for a posse of scruffy E street kids, several of whom were too young to drink legally. So even by the standards of heirs, Xiang must be a big deal. Not just a corporate higher up, but maybe a CEO herself. She followed Xiang to her usual spot, and smiled when she saw where it was.

"Well, isn't that a coincidence," she chuckled before collapsing into the sofa beside Xiang. "This was my usual spot too." When the robot bartender arrived, Julia had no such restraints as Xiang did. "I'll take a cocktail. Shuffle. Choose random." The robot bartender process the command words before ordering Julia a random cocktail. Not even she knew what she'd ordered.

After her new friend inquired about her story, Julia looked like she was deep in thought for a second. "It's not a case of 'I'd tell you but then I've have to kill you.' There's a lot of details we would genuinely both get targeted for if I spill them, so I'll have to cut a lot out. I'll tell you what I can, though. I was in prison for the last thirty years. Walked right into a trap, got blown up, caused a huge mess that I had to clean up by taking the fall for absolutely everything, in exchange for a lenient sentence."

The doors to the club opened, and a man in a black coat walkied in. For a brief second, Julia swore she recognised the gentleman. She tried imagining him thirty years younger, and the color immediate drained from her face. Her eyes narrowed to pinpricks. Something Xiang could never have pictured until that moment; Julia was terrified. She averted her eyes and preyed that he hadn't noticed her. Why oh why of all days did she have to wear a leather jacket today?!

@Kumbaris@Thayr