[IC] Relief, Houston - A High Tech Low Life Cyberpunk Story

[Krash]

The formula I will be using and semi requesting that others use in this thread, I may revise it as time goes forward because I'm not particularly great at coding BBCode.

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_{Name Here — Location — Current or Past — [Tags Here]}

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CONTENT HERE

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S u m m a r y
POST SUMMARY HERE.

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L o r e
LORE HERE

See the raw top right

[Krash]

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_{GM — Relief overall — Current — [Tags Here]}

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Afternoon was slowly giving way to dusk in Houston. The orange glow brought by sunlight diffused in sandstorms surrendering slowly to the pressure off the coast as normally happened. Eventually the sands would stop, and the clouds would gather over from another subdued hurricane, and it would shower the city, washing away what dust made it in. Meanwhile, countless tankers gathered out in the harbor ready to unload cargo from around the world. Most of it was legal sure but there were ample containers that arrived with porters being killed or paid to look away.

Amongst the endless structures and roadways, a single parking lot stood out in a curious way. It held no police towers, no dedicated city surveillance, and no road of its own. No official map chronicled its existence, but countless denizens considered it home and countless more made a pilgrimage to it weekly if not daily. Its collection of stalls ranging from shabby rusted countertops with propane stoves and laminated tarpaulin covers over wire lights to higher end armored vans all illegally hotjacked into the city grid with smells of every single kind wafting through the late afternoon air. The cooking never really stopped but the dinner rush was coming and everything was being prepared from halal to synth beef and countless more synthetic versions of exotic animals, some long since extinct.

Along the perimeter of the parking lot, there was the Concent, the old Convention center renovated in a very stretched definition of the word and split into even more stalls. While there wasn’t an official zoning policy, the food stalls tended to be outside where the smoke could dissipate while the interior was reserved for eating and hardware. Didn’t matter if it was Computer, vintage, or chrome, all the stalls inside coagulated together. There was a medical wing as well mostly for punks wanting to chrome up or pawn their chrome to cover some debt, and in one of the wings facing the parking lot itself was Huge Tree. Daniel Nuyear’s mayoral office in the form of a noodle shop, the only restaurant in Concent.

Nuyear moved with a lazy strut befitting a model. His white thigh length coat flickered with holographic fish masking a rather nondescript black tee shirt. His designer shoes thudded against the light grey plasma floors cut to look like marble. This was his kingdom. He glanced at the chefs working behind five-inch thick duraglass. They smiled briefly with a nod of the head but otherwise kept working, folding dumpling skin or draining noodles. He moved past the open eating area with synthwood tables and the long aluminum countertop for solo patrons that faced the chefs. Nuyear’s eyes drifted towards the booths that made up the other half of the restaurant. They were designed with privacy in mind and had shoulder high walls of white plasment cut into small squares to look like tile encasing them. The walls served as a digital buffer preventing eavesdropping for those wanting a personal touch. At the entrance of each booth two strip lights glistened in the plasment walls and he noted that one booth was occupied. Something interesting must have been happening as he noted the red color shining on the wall lights indicating it was occupied.

He regarded the two merc statues guarding the titanium double doors referred to as the Gates of Hell as he left. The statues moved ever so slightly at his glance, acknowledging their boss before resuming their routine observing the crowd while the holographic red curtain over the Gates flickered behind them. He was comfortable knowing they were the first line of defense into the underworld and all the many things he safeguarded. Like Dante’s experience there were many layers to Huge Tree and this was merely the first stop. An entertaining preview with holographic fish swimming overhead much like those on Nuyear’s own coat.

With a final movement he went upstairs to his own private quarters which held a balcony over Relief and took in his private kingdom. The orange haze was evacuating and already the clouds were beginning to gather overhead. He wondered what would be nourished or washed away by the rains tonight.

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S u m m a r y
Our story opens in Relief, dusk is falling over the city and the vendors are getting ready for the lunch rush. The orange haze of dust storms are receding and the rain is getting ready to fall any minute. Daniel Nuyear takes note of his micro-ecosystem

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L o r e
Plasment - a more durable version of cement used in more sensitive environments. Cement is still quite commonly used with the abundance of sand

Synth *** - self explanatory, vat grown variants of living things, common with animals as populations dwindle and burn out leaving genuine animals as luxury items.

Duraglass - a transparent ballistic material, common in banking environments, pleasure clubs, and virtually anywhere where something can be seen but not touched.

Johnny Nuyear - the proprietor of Huge Tree, a Taiwanese national with more rumors than truth surrounding him. It's commonly believed he was a victim of human trafficking at one point.

Gates of Hell - wonderful and horrific things wait behind them. That's where the real experience of Relief begins, every wannabe punk dreams of a shot of getting behind those doors.