Apollosarcher

Star Wars - Winter of the Confederation

@Richard Horthy Other idea is Alderaanian spy, though for the Jedi idea he's able to pass off his knowledge as he's a Miraluka an outlawed naturally force sensitive race.

Star Wars - Winter of the Confederation

@Richard Horthy I mean my first thought is Jedi archivist and survivor of the fall. Currently in hiding as a doctor who was assisting Mandalorians for awhile.

Star Wars - Winter of the Confederation

Alright I'll toss my hat in. I have a couple ideas.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

_{Collab with @Ruby}

---

Duston had been greeted in the parking lot by a few Valentinos who recognized the ride, they usually hung around the bar. El Coyote Cojo was a dump to many, to Dusty it felt like the little town bar he stopped at traveling across the country. Of course it wasn't the same but he liked it, Pepe was behind the bar as usual when he came in.

However with a shout Mama Welles emerged from the back, hugging him as he brought two clay jugs of firmwares and a cooler in. "I brought you and Jackie that treat we talked about... Wish he could have shared it with us." He spoke quietly, hugging the woman back like some aunt hadn't seen in years. "You said you had an old recipe for them? Well I'd like to try it."

The Nomad let her take the cooler as the older woman smiled sadly at it. "Jackie's memorial... Is over in the corner if you wish to say goodbye." Dusty nodded quietly, he never knew what to say when people lost like this. He remembered how she had been when Jackie's brother had passed. So he patted her shoulder letting her move to open the cooler on the bar counter. As Pepe too the bottles of fire water he shook his head.

"You picked a bad time too..." A moment later trailing the arrival of the merc the figure of the woman he'd brought with him hung in the doorway. "Yeah, it seems like everything has trouble these days. Me included." Duston turned, looking at Sora the bar itself seemed to suit the cowboy Nomad as he hovered next to a mass muscle who looked as exhausted as he could be. Next to him the thin grief wracked frame of Mama Welles who had just looked at the pair she was just putting away Dusty's gifts to them.

"Sora, come on over, let's make some introductions." Duston spoke, flicking his lighter really wanting to smoke right now.

Sora stopped just inside the door. Her mind went into gear; the structure and set-up of the establishment was noted and projections began on where the most likely weapon was, where the best exit was should things go south, the sight lines of the second level down to the first level, every person was noticed and analyzed as to what walk of life they were from and what faction of Night City they likely belonged to, who could potentially be bought, who could potentially be bullied, and who would be more difficult to deal with.

By the time she heard Dusty's voice pierce the veil of her mental analysis, her eyes were already stuck in place: the ofrenda. It wasn't Sora's first time seeing one; she had been in Mexico for Día de Muertos before. Dusty's call towards her had led other eyes to her; most notably, Mama Welles. Sora's gaze snapped away from the family altar to the proprietress of the El Coyote. Something was said to her under the breath of the old woman, something that Sora thought she heard, but wasn't entirely sure...

When she was at the bar, she said, flatly, "Hello."

"Soda?" Pepe asked, drawing Sora's eyes from Mama Welles.

"...what? No, thank you."

Pepe scratched the back of his neck, a touch of nervous energy, "Oh, no, I meant...your name? Soda?"

Sora's flat stare moved to Dusty, "I have to retrieve something from your car. I'll be right ba--"

"--haha, she's funny," Dusty touched her. TOUCHED her, taking her by the shoulder and keeping her right there for the moment.

Sora didn't feel funny, but the little look she gave the Merc in the moment didn't exactly disagree with the idea that she was joking. Mostly, anyway. "Sora," she corrected Pepe, her head following her eyes as she turned to Mama Welles once more. "What is it you said?" It was potentially rude, and possibly an assumption, but Sora's hearing was that good, and she was all but certain in what she had heard the woman mutter under her breath.

True to everything she had heard about the woman, Mama Welles didn't budge an inch in her stare down of the Japanese woman. She didn't look surprised to be called out, she didn't even bother hesitating or trying to lie, her tone was blunt and her head held high, unafraid, "Santa Muerte. I looked at you, and I saw Death walk into my bar, so I called you Santa Muerte...Saint Death."

"Pepe, why don't you get us a couple of whiskeys neat?" Dusty spoke, trying to help the guy avoid dying his wife would break down if she lost him. Deciding to try and defuse tension a little he spoke up.

"Mama Welles, this is Sora, my boss. She's contracted me as her driver... She wanted to see the place and I figured you wouldn't mind the business." He smiled trying to be sweet and show he cared as he looked between the two women. Really helping Sora didn't head for his car again. He wasn't sure the reinforced doors could stop her for long.

"Oh? And who do you work for, Sora?"

The hard-edge and tension of Mama Welles eyes and voiced never changed, but Sora accepted the whiskey when presented to her and made sure to adjust her internal settings so the alcohol could take some purchase of her body; adjust her internal system settings to allow the drink to slightly poison her, as alcohol was supposed to. "I'm..." It wasn't the easiest thing to explain, her position within the company, "I'm the operative in charge of security evaluation for the Night City situation for Arasaka Corp."

Welles' eyes widened, even if just a touch, at the ready admission of the woman, "Arasaka? Your people killed my boy."

"It was a drone that shot him, although technically the fall killed him, according to the initial forensic investigation of the scene," casually said, as Sora took a sip of the drink, "if he hadn't we would have hunted him down just the same. I would have, matter of fact."

Welles seemed halfway between angered by it, and amused by it, "And V?"

"V we believe is off-world, others are after them."

"You won't catch V," spoken with absolute, unwavering, belief.

The kind that just made Sora grin, and raise her glass in the air a foot, "To V and Jackie Welles, then."

“To Jackie, best friend I ever made in Night City... Even if he found more trouble than a fat cow in a Coyote pen.” The Nomad adde raising a toast to Jackie. “Mama Welles, I didn’t come here to start trouble but how about a couple of those steaks... A bit of fire water too, I’ll regale Sora here with some tales about Welles.” He offered to try to distract from their problems at the moment and get the topic somewhere else. He was nervous someone would take offense if he didn’t get things moving in the right direction.

Gesturing towards an empty booth he sighed. “How about a little heart to heart Sora since we’ve both clearly got some knowledge about something else the other is interested in.”

The Arasaka ninja chuckled. "I just like you assume I still have a heart. Lead the way."

“Even if they put in a chrome one you still feel. So I know it’s there even if you hide it.” He spoke leading her into the booth and taking a seat as Pepe dropped off a bottle of the fire water he’d brought in. Powerful moonshine the Nomads could use to run vehicles, generators, or get wasted also damn good stuff.

“So let’s start with me. I’m a part time merc, I’m only here a few months out of the year, mostly till harvest. I leave my problems outside at the border and pick up the ones I left here when I come in. But how is it you just happened to be going after all the little circles of the mid tier mercs like myself are in on?” He reached into his jacket for a smoke as he offered the pack to her as well.

“You’re pissed but clearly you don’t catch much for Saka. You are here for something personal in the Merc world, now normally I’d be against turning on other mercs for a corpo but... I know revenge when I see it, and I chase that path myself from time to time. So, here’s what I’ll offer. My intel and connections into the Merc world and helping you dig around for whoever it is you're looking for. Cause it’s not anymore connected to V that has you pissed, you got a name that needs crossing.”

Saint Death returned to Sora's face as Dusty spoke. He had trespassed on ground equal parts cursed and sacred. Gone was the chuckle, gone was any light or life in her features. The obsession was back, the focus that kept her awake every night, the memories and the thoughts that were hoarded and cherished every hour of every day, without fail. Sora leaned back in the worn cushion of the El Coyote booth seat, her long black hair unmoving as she was all but perfectly still, staring into the Merc's eyes. "Have you ever been in love?"

“Yes. I won’t go into details but she’s gone now and my brother was at fault.” He spoke, hardening his face, flicking open a lighting up his cigarette as he leaned back into the cushion. He drew a deep breath taking in the smoke as he exhaled hard as he shut his eyes a moment. “Like I said. I understand revenge.” He spoke, pouring them both a round of fire water.

"You misunderstand." Sora's eyes flicked to the bar, above to the second level, there, back again to the Merc. "I've loved two people. Two people have loved me. My mother, and a woman named Etta Autry. My mother was crushed under the dishonor and cowardice of my father, until I could help her be free. Etta Autry..." Sora trailed to silence. How to explain? Was there a way to truly convey it all? "I was working in Europe. She had managed to arrange a clerk, assistant job for a member of Arasaka Counter-Intel in the same office I was based in. She wasn't there for me. She wasn't spying on me. She was there to gather information for a job, a long term con, and the only way to get the kind of background, detailed, information for their heist. European Mercs...are a higher class of Merc than you and yours, Dusty. They're truly professional, part corpo in their own right. Most are former military or corporate. I believe she was both. One night I have a particularly nasty armed conflict with a group of mercs. Talented group, to leave me that bloody. She heard me come into the office. She noticed the blood. She patched me, she spent the night watching over me. It was...the start of something beautiful, the only time I've ever experienced that kind of thing."

Her voice wavered in the pain of the memory. The sigh was deep, her near black eyes trailing the surface of the table, her vision going past the table, into the past. "When I found out, I found out because I caught up to her merc group. I chased them across Europe. It had nothing to do with her, it had nothing to do with the fact she was married to one of the other mercs in that group. They were hitting Arasaka, I wanted to catch them. It's what I am, it's what I do. They were good...they were the best I've ever seen." Her eyes came up to his, her head giving the barest of nods to reaffirm just how much she meant that. "On the moon I caught up to them, during their big heist. I killed three of them that day. It took a heavy toll, I was near death when I collapsed. I don't remember...all of it. Chasing them allowed them to set a trap for me. I didn't see it coming. When I woke up...she was kneeling beside me, once again, caring for me. She said she loved me, she said she was sorry. She gave me a hypo so I didn't die...later that day I caught up to them again."

Sora's eyes hadn't moved from his eyes, but somehow, now, they weren't on him...they just stared through him, a thousand yard stare into the infinity of past and pain. "They escaped using a stolen craft. I followed. I hit them before reentry. Her husband died. By the time I woke up I was floating in the ocean, lucky Arasaka found me. She was gone. What they stole went with her. We recovered her husband's body."

Her gaze fell to the fire water, her hand reaching out, a thirst upon her as she winced at the burn of the shot she downed. "I will find her. I will tear this city apart to find her. I will do Arasaka's business, but nothing will get in my way this time. I will catch her. She's a ghost, usually, hidden behind rival corporate firewalls and governments that I believe just erased her records. But I know she's here. I know I will find her. If you hear anything, if you see anything...yes, Dusty, tell me. I will ensure you never have to work another merc job for the rest of your life if you don't want to."

”Money’s nice and all... But Sora, what I’d what? A promise that no goon will come knocking on my door to shoot me cause I helped you. Maybe some cash or favors for the family... But shit... I mean it’s heavy I...” He knocked back his drink pausing before putting a hand on her shoulder leaning forward. “I can kinda get where you’re coming from.”

“I’ve got a big family... Half are adopted but it doesn't make a difference we all grew up together. Seven of us. Two boys, five girls, my pop, and my ma. My brother... He’s younger and always wanted to get famous... We're related to Malachi, the man who set up our Nation. He's my grandpapi, of course we ain’t the only ones. But my brother... Jorge was always set on running the clan, then the whole nation one day. Course to do that he needed to get famous...” He took another long drag watching the smoke curl past his hat for a bit then sighed.

“We were working with the Meta’s. I fancied a girl from Meta Corp, sky jockey herself who had wanted to learn how a real racer handled the roads. We were young and having a blast tearing up dirt and tumbles in hay where no one would catch us.” He sighed, pressing the cigarette out on the ashtray before looking into her eyes. “Last time I saw her we were talking about requesting permission from both our families to marry and discuss where we’d move too. A little while later I’m doing a scouting run, when I hear her AV under fire... Her cursing and yelling for help.” He spoke, shutting his eyes as took off his hat to run a hand through his auburn hair.

“My car was miles back and I was just on a bike... I turned on the distress beacon and I tore ass towards her signal. It was the biggest horde of Shiv I ever saw with stolen Militech gear, this fat AV loaded with food, medicine, tech, and more from heading over to the Metacorp as part of a trade deal. It slams into the ground with the most cursed thud I’ve ever heard... So I do the most damn fool thing I can think of, put the bike in gear and charge down.” He spoke staring back into Sora’s eyes.

“I made it to the AV’s only to find the cockpit on fire. I managed to break the glass, thinking I’d saved her... She’d been dead from smoke inhalation for minutes before.” He shook his head. “So I took cover, her body next to me and I kept shooting and shooting, eventually all the others turned up and the Shiv ran not worth dying for steak.” He added pouring a shot then knocking it back.

“After all that, my family is saying they are so impressed. There is talk about how brave I was or how I really take after Malachi.” He looked at that bottle. “My brother must have felt something real dark... Cause that night as I was out in the barn unable to sleep looking at a couple of old photos and drinking. He comes in, Mom’s pistol in his right hand pointing it at me.” He took a deep breath before finishing.

“He tells me that was his moment, that he had orchestrated the damn thing. That the Shiv were bribed into hitting that AV with salvage sites he’d found we could have used. That AV had to go down because half the food was missing since he’d given it to them in exchange for helping him stage a big fight he could be the hero of, win his fame and get the title he deserves. I ruined his life, I wasn’t fit to be his brother... A lot of things were said... But when he uttered her name and told how he made sure she’d die so I’d hurt. I lost it.” He turned his head looking around the bar a moment finishing the tale.

“I threw my bottle in his face and yanked my iron and put one in his leg... Dragged him out... And told them all what he did... I wanted to hang’em. I wanted to blow his limbs off.” He spoke slowly, thinking back on that anger. “Then... I saw my mother crying... I couldn't because he was still her baby I... I said we should exile him. He’s Shiv now... It’s why I hate Shiv, because they are all like him or worse. But I stopped. I don't chase him, I don’t let it consume me... Shouldn’t love me like she did if I became that man so I stay better for her love.”

Her eyes never flinched during the tale, and in the end, her voice remained it’s usual detached voice of death self: “Should have killed him. I would have killed him.” Then again, she wanted to say, I let my father beat me for years. “No one’s coming after your people because you help me; even if I find her, even if I kill her, she has no one left to avenge her. She’s completely alone in the world, now…like me.”

“If you are that alone... If you did love her... Try and find a way to forgive... Because you might be happier finding and being with her than alone.” He spoke as he paused for a moment. “If you can’t and you just wanna go... I can get you set up with the Technomancers if you just wanna leave Saka and everything behind. They can get your chrome and software cleaned up if you wanna vanish when it’s over.” He added looking out at the upper level of the bar a moment, Mama Welles bringing out two of the steaks seasoned and finished just right.

“Whatever happens Sora, you broke bread with me. You listened to me. You trusted me. Nomads pay back kindness with kindness, always us Jodes? Well we have also fancied ourselves the first Nomads, I can’t set a bad example.” He chuckled as started to cut into his steak.

Sora regarded his ideas with dead eyes. “Eat, Nomad,” never once pondering the prospect of forgiveness, or escape, in that moment, “we have a busy evening ahead of us.”

Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

"Sic semper tyrannis"

Name: Abraham, Gaius, Praetor, and many more.

Age: Over two thousand

Species: Kindred

Powers: Fortitude, Potence, Celerity, Auspex, Necromancy

Clan: Caitiff

Generation: 7th

Appearance: He carries himself upright and with a quick step, remnants of his days on the march for glory and conquest. His list of names and titles is long, so the short and sweet name of Abraham was taken after an old friend. His clothes clean and freshly pressed, he carries himself well but their a sadness in him and tiredness. He looks remarkably alive for a Kindred, though he carries an aura of man who carries the weight of the world. His body is fit and lean, a surprising amount of scaring dots his chest and his chin is a familiar scar of chin strap from a Legion helmet. With raven black hair and short beard, he looks the part of a young soldier and even has the manners and discipline to prove it.

Personality

Personality: Rugged, careful, and patient. One does not live two thousand years without serious consideration and planning, even as a kindred it comes down to skill and planning. Yet behind his eyes there is a burning hatred, for himself, for kindred, for all his misbegotten species. To the mortals he meets he a caring and compassionate man, yet against vampires especially those that lord and rule over he colder than artic wind. For he believes that the mortal world ought to rule over all, that men kindred, not werewolves, or magic should rule over those mortals beneath them. An eternal soldier, who refuses to stand for anything but the man he once was and hopes to be again one day.

Bio

Biography: Once, long ago in the city of Pompey, he was the man, the general, the soldier Gaius Aurelias Antonius Britannia. Praetorian, general, commander, explorer, but most of all son of Rome. He was enthralled by a leader, a general, and a good man, at the end of the Republic... The world was short on those. So he followed into war, first in the Legion then from the back of a horse his uncle in politics and him exchanged letters often. His uncle a friend of Caesar noticed his skill an competence, so under the tutelage of the man who would birth an empire Gaius would find himself a personal guard to the conqueror. Then they set for Britannia, Gaius remembers the way Caesar brought order and strength to those savage lands. Even gaining his first true glory slaying a tribal chieftain and earning glory in battle after battle. This is when he first caught the eye of his betters, the kindred of the era took note as they realized

Gaius became a general when they decided to march on Rome, to take what they were owed and to save the Empire from the greed and stupidity of it's ruling elite. Yet as this clever and capable young general fought and won, with no other ambition than to serve his commander and people. When death of the Caesar came, he wept and swore to avenge the death of his leader at any cost. When it was won he faced a choice Octavian or his uncle Marc Antony? So blood being blood he swore to follow his uncle, but Clan Ventrue saw the winds blowing and bet on Octavian. In a Skirmish in Anatolia with Gaius would meet his end. Yet fate is strange, Ventrue's warriors fell upon the General and though the mortals were brave and honorable they could not hope to win. A miracle of sorts came, a woman, Gaius himself remembers muttering the name Bellona for she fought like a good of war struck down his foes. Then without a word of explanations she took the wounded general into her arms and drank of his blood... Then gave of her own, before collecting weapons and armor then vanishing back towards the desert.

Gaius awoke in the coolness of night alone and thirsting for blood, he drained half a dozen cattle that night before starting to realized what had happened to him. He could not go home, so he vanished only appearing rarely he learned much of what he could from others... More importantly he learned of the Ventrue's secretive rule of Rome, the secrets of the world he'd never fully understood as a soldier. But he knew one thing when he saw it, tyrants ruling in secret like cowards. Taking the alias Praetor he donned his old praetorian gear he would silently strike again and again, he had no one to educate him instead traveling from Europe to Asia and into Africa learning bits and pieces. But where he went he brought his sword and a promise, to bring low those who their power to become rulers and despots.

It would take centuries for him to start to understand what he was, by then he grown to view this as an order from Roman Goddess of war. Bellona had commanded him, bring war to those who had so quietly and underhanded ruled he would bring war in all forms to those like himself an eternal war for the freedom of mankind. The Praetor learned more as he violently survived year to year alone, feeding off animals or asking humans to offer him the blood in exchange for service. He never took or demanded of mortals, no instead he consume his own kind. Upon learning that the blood of another vampire could nourish him and kill them, he turned to that as a solution. He walked many paths in his new state sometimes with trusted friends, others with childer, and sometimes at the head of forces.

The Dark Ages as they are known were a tough time for many, yet when forces needed to hunt and kill a vampire a full plated warrior would arrive. He would teach knights how to decapitate, the cleansing power of fire, and remind the strength faith can have should they truly be devote. One could say Praetor was not only outside vampire culture but actively culling it, yet unlike so many of his kin he depends not on others but on his own hands. He lived in wilds, traveled from place to place served in armies and more. He chose a life spent learning to kill man, beast, or kindred at any turn. Serving with knights, mercenaries, and more from one side of the world to the other he fought and bled Cainites where ever he found them.

When the Masquerade began he learned to fade in among them, princes would hire a Caitiff to handle problems then one day when he was close he would kill the prince and vanish. He had one simple rule to his violence, no harm to mortals and no feeding without permission few took his threats seriously one Caitiff alone? What could they do? Over the centuries, quite a lot. Though as he grew older his targets became more powerful and high generationally the only way to feed well enough to survive without the topor. Fighting in one war to the next, from one continent to another he would one day be remembered Abraham. Taking the name from a friend of an Abraham Van Helsing with whom he had once challenged the rule Dracula unsuccessfully. Now two thousands years of warfare later he knows the final battle is coming, he knows he cannot fight the topor for many more years unless he commits Diablerie upon someone a greater rank than himself.

So he chooses to face the end times sword in hand, spitting in the face of his enemies ready to die a final death in much the way he died his first death.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

.

Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

"Sic semper tyrannis"

Name: Abraham, Gaius, Praetor, and many more.

Age: Over two thousand

Species: Kindred

Powers: Fortitude, Potence, Celerity, Auspex, Necromancy

Clan: Caitiff

Generation: 5th

Appearance: He carries himself upright and with a quick step, remnants of his days on the march for glory and conquest. His list of names and titles is long, so the short and sweet name of Abraham was taken after an old friend. His clothes clean and freshly pressed, he carries himself well but their a sadness in him and tiredness. He looks remarkably alive for a Kindred, though he carries an aura of man who carries the weight of the world. His body is fit and lean, a surprising amount of scaring dots his chest and his chin is a familiar scar of chin strap from a Legion helmet. With raven black hair and short beard, he looks the part of a young soldier and even has the manners and discipline to prove it.

Personality

Personality: Rugged, careful, and patient. One does not live two thousand years without serious consideration and planning, even as a kindred it comes down to skill and planning. Yet behind his eyes there is a burning hatred, for himself, for kindred, for all his misbegotten species. To the mortals he meets he a caring and compassionate man, yet against vampires especially those that lord and rule over he colder than artic wind. For he believes that the mortal world ought to rule over all, that men kindred, not werewolves, or magic should rule over those mortals beneath them. An eternal soldier, who refuses to stand for anything but the man he once was and hopes to be again one day.

Bio

Biography: Once, long ago in the city of Pompey, he was the man, the general, the soldier Gaius Aurelias Antonius Britannia. Praetorian, general, commander, explorer, but most of all son of Rome. He was enthralled by a leader, a general, and a good man, at the end of the Republic... The world was short on those. So he followed into war, first in the Legion then from the back of a horse his uncle in politics and him exchanged letters often. His uncle a friend of Caesar noticed his skill an competence, so under the tutelage of the man who would birth an empire Gaius would find himself a personal guard to the conqueror. Then they set for Britannia, Gaius remembers the way Caesar brought order and strength to those savage lands. Even gaining his first true glory slaying a tribal chieftain and earning glory in battle after battle. This is when he first caught the eye of his betters, the kindred of the era took note as they realized

Gaius became a general when they decided to march on Rome, to take what they were owed and to save the Empire from the greed and stupidity of it's ruling elite. Yet as this clever and capable young general fought and won, with no other ambition than to serve his commander and people. When death of the Caesar came, he wept and swore to avenge the death of his leader at any cost. When it was won he faced a choice Octavian or his uncle Marc Antony? So blood being blood he swore to follow his uncle, but Clan Ventrue saw the winds blowing and bet on Octavian. In a Skirmish in Anatolia with Gaius would meet his end. Yet fate is strange, Ventrue's warriors fell upon the General and though the mortals were brave and honorable they could not hope to win. A miracle of sorts came, a woman, Gaius himself remembers muttering the name Bellona for she fought like a good of war struck down his foes. Then without a word of explanations she took the wounded general into her arms and drank of his blood... Then gave of her own, before collecting weapons and armor then vanishing back towards the desert.

Gaius awoke in the coolness of night alone and thirsting for blood, he drained half a dozen cattle that night before starting to realized what had happened to him. He could not go home, so he vanished only appearing rarely he learned much of what he could from others... More importantly he learned of the Ventrue's secretive rule of Rome, the secrets of the world he'd never fully understood as a soldier. But he knew one thing when he saw it, tyrants ruling in secret like cowards. Taking the alias Praetor he donned his old praetorian gear he would silently strike again and again, he had no one to educate him instead traveling from Europe to Asia and into Africa learning bits and pieces. But where he went he brought his sword and a promise, to bring low those who their power to become rulers and despots.

It would take centuries for him to start to understand what he was, by then he grown to view this as an order from Roman Goddess of war. Bellona had commanded him, bring war to those who had so quietly and underhanded ruled he would bring war in all forms to those like himself an eternal war for the freedom of mankind. The Praetor learned more as he violently survived year to year alone, feeding off animals or asking humans to offer him the blood in exchange for service. He never took or demanded of mortals, no instead he consume his own kind. Upon learning that the blood of another vampire could nourish him and kill them, he turned to that as a solution. He walked many paths in his new state sometimes with trusted friends, others with childer, and sometimes at the head of forces.

The Dark Ages as they are known were a tough time for many, yet when forces needed to hunt and kill a vampire a full plated warrior would arrive. He would teach knights how to decapitate, the cleansing power of fire, and remind the strength faith can have should they truly be devote. One could say Praetor was not only outside vampire culture but actively culling it, yet unlike so many of his kin he depends not on others but on his own hands. He lived in wilds, traveled from place to place served in armies and more. He chose a life spent learning to kill man, beast, or kindred at any turn. Serving with knights, mercenaries, and more from one side of the world to the other he fought and bled Cainites where ever he found them.

When the Masquerade began he learned to fade in among them, princes would hire a Caitiff to handle problems then one day when he was close he would kill the prince and vanish. He had one simple rule to his violence, no harm to mortals and no feeding without permission few took his threats seriously one Caitiff alone? What could they do? Over the centuries, quite a lot. Though as he grew older his targets became more powerful and high generationally the only way to feed well enough to survive without the topor. Fighting in one war to the next, from one continent to another he would one day be remembered Abraham. Taking the name from a friend of an Abraham Van Helsing with whom he had once challenged the rule Dracula unsuccessfully. Now two thousands years of warfare later he knows the final battle is coming, he knows he cannot fight the topor for many more years unless he commits Diablerie upon someone a greater rank than himself.

So he chooses to face the end times sword in hand, spitting in the face of his enemies ready to die a final death in much the way he died his first death.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

_{Collab with @Ruby}

---

Little China still irritated her. Since her days stalking Night City for Danger Girl, there had never been something quite 'right' about this stretch of city. It wasn't meant to be like this. Sora could have blamed the Triads, but there wasn't much left of the Triads--she had largely seen to that, herself. Walking the strip of Little China that should have been something closer to City Center than it was to slums left a metallic, harsh taste in her mouth as the tip of her tounge rolled across back of her top, perfect, white teeth as she ignored the looks and stares from the excuses for life that inhabited the back alleys of Little China. He had dropped her off at the end of the alley, next to the same sex club that had existed before, just different names and different owners...a common theme in this rejection of a normal, functioning, city.

Tokyo this was not.

Sora's movement down the alley became listless, her head tilting this way and that, her black lashes fluttering as eyelids opened and closed with no apparent rhyme or reason. Her nostrils flared, her mind racing through the sensory overload, black gloved hand just barely tracing the edge of every wall and door she came across on this side of the alley. Her lips formed the words she didn't say, her head tilting back as she tasted it: it was written in blood. All or nothing, dressed in black, unable to look back for longer than a moment just long enough to see the memory of her face. By the time her eyes opened, she had wandered off the main alley, pushing past a small, flimsy, metal gate.

The woman occupied her sigh, black eyes opening to the stairwell. A cat hissed, arching in defense, sensing the arrival of a predator. "Oh, shut up."

Her gaze flashed from the back door of the storefront that was closed, smelling the incense and hearing the heartbeat beyond. The placid surface of the killer betrayed the sudden, inexplicable, white hot rage that erupted under the skin. Sora could almost taste the Mercs. Sora knew the truth of it; she would always, no matter what, now, be a broken girl. There was no going back. There would be no savior, even if she found the woman. Nothing could be the same, nothing could be pure again. Arasaka had taken it's pound of flesh, corrupted her life before it even started, ruined the dreams of a little girl and turned her mean. And they thought they could get away with what they did?

Sora audibly snorted as she restrained the impulse to go crashing through the back of the store front and impale the child, then and there. She nearly gasped as the ease of the door sliding open, or pouted at it. It shouldn't have been so easy. He shouldn't have been so easy. Prey should put up more of a fight. Sora had no respect for cowards, and when there was nothing but her, the victim, and the blade between them...that's when people showed who they really were. That's when Sora saw people no one close to them ever could; that's how Sora knew, truly, who was a coward and who was not. What would Vik Vektor be today?

Very little illuminated the garage turned clinic but a Kiroshi neon sign, and data screens, except for the vid feed of the boxing match. He sat there, hunched on his stool, sunglasses on like it was mid-sunny day, entranced by the violence. There was no sound, only a black shadow creeping at the edges. It was hard to say just how long she stood there, staring at him. Somewhere in the void beside her mind, Sora started to blink in and out as her eyes shuttered again and her anger started to boil through. When her eyes opened again her forehead was brushing the closed, but unlocked, security cage of the entrance at the bottom of the stairs in which she haunted as shadow.

The sound he noticed, the image he realized was no shadow. She heard his heartbeat, she felt his intense gaze, it made her feel as close to orgasm as anything had in months. She wasn't a bad person; she was just overwhelmed, that little voice of that little ghost repeated in the back vaults of her brain. By herself, by choice, chance, or strange reward, she ignored what he said to her then. Ignored it, or just wasn't present enough in the now to hear it. She tried to whisper to him, but he didn't figure it out, he didn't hear it.

Sora was cold.

"I don't have any drugs," he said, as uncertain and on edge as he was irritated, like she were just another junkie to roll into his clinic to beg.

Sora giggled like a school girl as she threw open the gate with a sudden, dramatic, motion. "You do. You are a purveyor of the only drug that seems to sate me these days, Vik Vektor." The giggle was gone, leaving behind only the ghostly grin on haunted lips and the menacing black eyed gaze of the predator. In that very beat of his heart, she saw it, smelled it, TASTED it: fear. A sharp, deep, inhale, and Sora smiled, "There it is. There's my drug, Vik Vektor...you loved them, didn't you? Did you think the love was free?" She stared, somehow looking more confused than he felt and hid. "Did you think there would be no price to pay?"

"Arasaka," it was only a word, spoken in a tone that he might as well had spat. The devil's grin that enveloped her face as she felt the fires of hell warm her back. He moved for the weapon. That's all it took. He might as well had moved in molasses as she moved in bullet-time. He was so fucking slow she wanted to scream at him, she wanted to complain and condemn his bad form. His surgically repaired and enhanced Ripperdoc's left hand crunched as she held it between her index finger and thumb, and SQUEEZED. He howled in pain, Sora howled in heat, dismissing his body like a little sack of meat and bone as she flew across the clinic and landed at the foot of his surgical chair.

The whisper was delicate and soft, sad and torn in regret, the tone of heart-wrenched apology, her black gloved hand gentle at his chest as it held him down, "Someone must get hurt." She had come too far to make it easy, the tedious dances of quiet meltdowns and consented abuse had driven the madness and boiling rage to a hushed moment of sheer desperation and tragic realization; the Ripperdoc was analyzing her. Guessing at what had turned her to demon.

"...what the fuck are you..."

Her free hand curled and coiled, making pain wrench across his face as it grabbed the back of his head by his thinning hair and started to press with the hand on his chest with the kind of force that would be snapping bone and popping organs in but a few, short, minutes. "Pay attention, because it's all over; this is the price you weren't willing to pay." She gripped tight at the back of his head, the hand at his chest pulling his upper body up by his dirty shirt. Sora had to give him credit; he never betrayed the woman. He never looked in that direction. Nothing on his face even hinted at her presence.

Didn't matter. Sora knew. The shot of gunfire rang out hideously loud and violent in the confined space of the clinic, as Misty Olszewski pulled the trigger. The spiritualist had enough skill to not murder Vik Vektor. The woman tracked the blur enough that the bullet only ripped across Vik Vektor's right shoulder in a grazing blow, leaving to man to cry out and put his near limp left surgeon's hand over the searing pain. Panic hit Misty Olszewski as her target was there, then just wasn't there, leaving Vik to take the round that grazed and ricocheted off the surgical chair behind, sparking as it hit a wall off to the left.

"Misty!" He yelled, his eyes unclinching from pain just in time to see the dark shadow behind the spiritualist. They moved so slowly, children to the unreal enhanced speed of the Arasaka Ninja. The gun was gone, crushed and discarded, Misty's body tensed and struggling as Sora took the girl from behind. The heat of the spiritualist, the flesh pressed against Sora tight. She felt her eyes closed as she felt Misty's heart as much as she heard it now, one hand around the girl's throat, the other still around the wrist that had held the gun, beginning to slowly, carefully, apply the kind of pressure that would crush it in less than a minute's time.

Sora didn't hear the girl's cries. Eyes closed, mind torn, all Sora felt and heard and saw was Etta Autry. All she knew in that haunted heartbeat was love and misery and pain. The desperate, erotic, whisper hitting the girl's right ear. "...I want to fucking tear you apart."

The gurgled cry didn't sound right. The scent wasn't right. The body against her wasn't right.........Sora saw vision ascend as her black eyes opened, her face frowning as she saw Misty Olszewski and not Etta Autry. Her vision focused on the bleeding man on the ground, moving, screaming in a growl about...something. In her haze it took Sora another beat to realize he was yelling about the girl.

"STOP IT! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! LET HER GO!"

The girl was discarded like the gun had been, just tossed to the side there in the entryway at the bottom of the stairs. Sora moved again, more concerned with the Ripperdoc than the spiritualist. The sound that came out of the old man was ear piercing as the katana blade came out and pierced flesh in the kind of quickness that left the human mind reeling to catch up. It took him a moment to do more than be in shock and silence; but when the sound came it was blood curdling, it was anguished and it was enough to make the girl on the ground behind them scream in horror: the sight of the katana sticking shoved into the concrete floor, through Vik Vektor's right thigh.

"...stay." The color had drained from Vik Vektor. His heart was near explosion, his heartbeat in full shock and panic, his system beginning real overload from the mind-breaking amount of pain and distress, sweat beading at his receding hairline, his body twitching and shaking. Sora didn't even care now that the girl scrambled and darted up the stairs of the entrance, screaming into the Night City night like a raving lunatic for help. Sora's tone never changed; automatic, chromed, with a muted volume. "Etta Autry. Where is she?"

His voice quivered and shook as violently as the rest of his body as his eyes dazed and blanked behind the sunglasses from the shock of the trauma. "...wh...who? I...don't..."

Sora growled like a beast, eyes clinching shut and head tilting as she let her heartbeat remind her mind to calm. "I hope your 'children' were worth it. May you serve as a warning to any others who would strike against us."

She stood, her right hand slowly curling and gripping the black handle of the black bladed katana that ran through the thick of his thigh. One pull, one swing, all in one motion, and his head would fall from his body. Before that, she looked down at him, and sighed, taking a last measure of Vik Vektor. "How I wish you would have known where she was..."

Dusty had been up the street, a smoke in an alley keeping an eye on some Maelstorm punks trying to give a few working girls a hard time. He gave a whistle and flashed iron, NCPD were just a block over and they never hassle a Nomad for street cleaning. They were close to Misty and Vik’s place, but he didn’t have any ripper work to be done and tarot cards just weren’t his thing. He liked to think Nomad’s made their own luck not fated to go down a certain way, the Clydesdale was parked in an alley hidden from view to avoid someone trying to boost it.

The Maelstrom punks had just been leaving when he heard a faint scream, one that no cop would answer. The gun shot he’d heard but assumed it was the police mopping up someone, he bottled towards Misty’s place, that voice was one he remembered from nights spent drinking and partying with Jackie Welles. He rushed through the beads sliding over the counter and out the back door before jumping the railing landing, barely on the stairs. A short jog past the security gate hand over his holster, well it was until he saw his new boss was standing over Vik with a glare that could have killed if Arasaka had the tech yet.

“What in sam hell do you think you are doing!” He spoke, he didn’t pull iron, knowing it sure as shit wouldn’t help. Moving in slowly hands up looking at Vik. “Vik and Misty? They never hurt nobody, well... Vik used to punch people and Misty’s got a biting tongue but... that ain’t never been a reason to go lopping off heads?” He spoke hands up moving towards the woman carefully.

“Even if they done did wronged ya it was a small slight or blunder on their part, Vik... Misty, somebody explain why the fuck a Saka ninja wants you two dead?” He spoke slow and calm like, trying to be rational and understanding, namely the side of friends against his boss. A fine line to walk when a razor sharp sword is involved but he was good at keeping balance came from a life in the saddle.

“Listen whatever’s going on before ya going stabbing folks like it's a Japanese Samurai revenge flick or your righteous Silverhand himself, prick he was. Maybe think about it, how could these folks ever damage you or them Saka goons again?” He added confused as he removed his hat trying to be honest and open here.

Her head turned at the sound of the man. At the sight, her black eyes narrowed. Hand gripping the blade's handle, now, in anger. It came and went like a Night City breeze; gone as fast as it appeared, if it was ever there at all. The blade was removed with the force and precision of an assassin, leaving nothing but a sudden surge of blood in the wake of it's removal, save for the dripping of Vik Vektor's blood as Sora walked across the clinic, katana in hand, staring a burning glare through the eyes of the Nomad as she simply walked out and climbed the stairs.

Indignance was the appearance of the Arasaka Ninja as she passed a bum in the back alley, ripped the shirt off his body, letting him run away to leave her to use his rag to wipe Vik Vektor's blood from her katana. If Sora were more vocal a presence, she would have been muttering about the damnable fool Nomad. She was prepared to skewer him through the chest and pin him to his damned car; she'd fucking walk back to Arasaka Tower.

It was utter annoyance when she realized the Nomad was staying in the clinic to call a fellow Ripperdoc friend of Vik's for help, and to assist Misty in applying emergency first aid to Vektor. There was even dulling gall in her that Vektor had enough presence of mind to walk the two through his own first aid. Sora jerked her head in the direction of the once more hissing cat at the top of the stairs that had led down to the clinic. "Are you fucking happy, now?"

Disgusted, Sora simply sheathed the blade back on her back and straightened her suit jacket, wandering off to find the Nomad's car, lighting a cigarette as she walked to calm her temper and nerves. Nomads were never far from their cars.

The Clyesdale was sitting pretty parked about two blocks down, the trail of all terrain tire marks and his unique blend of tobacco would lead her right on to it. The car wasn't covered in stickers and markers, instead the Jodes family emblem was on the hood. Thick armor of the vehicle was shined and blue, along its side painted strikes along it as it cut marks or decals. Each one a deep black with a red outline as if a beast had gored them in. It was bigger, an extended cab and trunk meant he’d probably tuned the engine to keep the power able to move all this weight. It was a one of a kind car, the kind of thing most nomads dreamed of rather than owned.

Dusty for his part, had moved Doc into his own patient's chair doing his best to listen and apply first aid. He’d learned some on the farms up north when guys got gored by horns or work equipment. But this was sure as shit new level he was dealing with for stab wounds, so breathing deep with a phone in one hand applying tourniquet to the wound as he breathed out. He focused, Misty cried off to one side while assisting as he finished up blood still on his hands. “You got him till doc Ryder gets here?” He spoke hugging Misty tight before taking a breath heading back for his car, probably a lose of real fucking easy payday.

But he could live with that... He couldn’t live with himself if he’d let Misty and Vik just get... Fuck. Great, he was starting to remember he didn’t usually take big high paying gigs, always fucking something about them! So exiting out through the alley behind the place he tossed his smoke while walking back towards the car, as he started to leave a couple of Maelstorm goons were eyeing him no doubt pissed about earlier. This had to be something to do with Jackies death, even from the Afterlife he was still managing to rope Duston in on bad ideas.

So with Maelstorm’s spider eyes on him not worried about it he walked to his car, to his boss to have what was probably going to be a very heated chat. He just prayed that if she killed him wouldn’t ruin his car... His sister would take care of his baby at least, he’d spent more on that care than some Mercs do on Apartments, guns, sex, and liquor combined.

She stood facing the car, on the passenger side, staring a hole through the Nomad with dark, dark, brown eyes. Her voice much as it ever was, so calm it sounded bored, "Did you know Jackie Welles and V?" He had, obviously to her, known Vik Vektor and Misty Olszewski. It was no great leap of logic or deductive reasoning to think he might have.

“I did know Jackie, T-Bug too. Been out of the city awhile, wasn’t here to meet this V. Merc’s are a tight clique, Jackie wanted to go big time but... I can’t, I got people to think about. Family, Clan, and more of what I earn goes back home to help them if harvests get bad.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the hood as he stood by the driver side door. “What I can tell you is this. Misty does her best to help people and try to guide them down a good path... Vik, well he gives away as much as he makes in that little back alley. They didn’t mean to rock the boat, they ain’t mercs and Edgerunners. They just live in a shit city where the only people who ever mean anything are those who are gonna die going against the system. If you don’t... You become part of it, till the corps or the city kill you.” He answered looking back the way he head come more Maelstorm goons now loitering watching the pair eyeing the car.

Sora's head bowed, as an audible, deep, sigh escaped her lips the moment before she brought her cigarette up to the same lips for another drag. The smoke made her voice just that much deeper than normal. "...I warned you not to interfere. Is it that you don't understand what I am? Is it that you don't get the zero-sum game Arasaka plays? Explain this to me, Nomad." The word, she exaggerated both syllables of, as one might a heavy handed curse. Dark brown eyes now staring up at him through bangs of black hair, and inner rage that came and went like a ghost in the system.

“I get that but... That, that shit was personal beef. Not Saka corpo cleanup detail, you were doing this for them heads would have been off and you’d have been in the car before they spoke.” He answered bluntly, looking right back into her eyes without fail, soft hazel eyes meeting her own. “...I ain’t gonna make you spill but maybe we'll trade little details... Because whoever you really want it ain’t some people who don’t know anything about living.” He breathed slowly as he shut his eyes. “Cause vengeance we can do. But if you want it, we get the bastard who did you wrong. Not those with cut strings left laying on the floor.” He spoke, casting a glance at the Maelstorm mercs. “Let’s ride, you can give the lecture as we go, I’d rather not shoot my through fucking borgs.”

Sora flicked her cigarette, removed the sheathed blade from her back, and got into the car's passenger side, letting the katana rest between her legs. "El Coyote Bar. It wasn't personal to me, I don't care if they live or die, but you don't get to hurt Arasaka and have no one pay some price. Welles paid with his life, fine, but V did not. Well...they're probably dead or dying, but not by our hand, and in not in a way that serves public notice that you do not FUCK with Arasaka in Night City."

She didn't look his direction, but the opposite. She enjoyed looking out windows, she enjoyed watching the world blur by. It reminded her of trains, and home.

“Then find V or people who helped them, hell I’ll help if it keeps you from stabbing civvies.” Dusty spoke climbing behind the wheel of the car, flipping the Maelstorm boys the bird as they shut the armored door and the screens projecting the view outside. “And you don’t fuck with Nomad clans but killing everyone who knows a person is a bit much.” He added as they crawled out into the clamoring traffic of night city heading for the highways.

“Mama Welles has lost all of them, she’s working dead end in a bar... You thinking killing her will send a message? Only message it sends is really more people living there to stand up to Japanese interests, Saka isn’t getting anything from a dead old lady, a Mystic, and a doctor. Way I hear it, V has created a movement, more Mercs than ever. More Fixers, more high risk jobs and shit tons of brave new souls.” He shook his head as he stopped at a light.

“But, you wanna make things right with Saka? You wanna put fear in the Night City Edge Runners. You gotta hit them back... Killing a handful of people who knew a person won’t change nothing, gotta kill the idea that now is an age where the many take from the few.” He spoke as they finally started up onto the highway, the engine humming as his hand moved each gear up manually.

“I never said I was going to hurt ‘Mama’ Welles. Or that I gave a fuck about making things ‘right’ for Arasaka. They’ll be content with brutalization and ‘he probably died.’ That’s fine with me.”

"Lady, sometimes I wonder if your speaking in riddles just to fuck with my head." He answered as they got to speed, moving through the traffic. "I just... Trying to understand ya, you ain't the usual corpo type and you ain't just another hired gun." He added heading down the ramp towards the bar as they slowed down once again.

When the Nomad looked again, he’d find Sora staring at him, instead of outside the passenger ‘window.’ And smiling. “I have my own agenda in this city, this time. Vic Vektor and Jackie Welles’ beloved were agenda items for Arasaka, not for myself, personally. We’ve tried finding V; they’re gone. Either dead, or my guess, off world. If off world, that’s someone else’s job to track…I’ve had my off world time. I’d rather not, again. If dead, nothing we can do. Mr. Welles has no grave, but I’ve heard El Coyote has the closest thing to it. So I want to see it. I want to…pay my respects, such as it were. If that confuses you…I suppose I don’t blame you at all. I’ll leave the katana in the car, if it makes you feel better.”

To say nothing of showing up at El Coyote was expected of her by those at Arasaka watching the streets. She could say anything she wanted about what happened once she was inside, but she would, at the very least, have to make a show of going in.

“Well good, still got a color to bring... And to pay my respects too... If you like, I could... Tell you about’em? Jackie used to drink with me, I met the guy years ago. Right after he got out of the gangs and I was still sleeping in my back seat with a shotgun.” He chuckled a bit as he gave the ninja a smile. “I met T-Bug shortly after I got my first invite to the Afterlife... She was the runner on that job, wasn’t she?” He asked quietly, as they neared the parking lot. “I’d... I’d like to pay respects to her too, they were both friends. Pour one out as we do, say a few words maybe... For whatever god will have my friends' souls up above.” He added taking a breath as they slipped into a space next to a few Valentino’s bikers as he reached down towards the center console where a bottle of Firewater sat next to his smokes.

“Sora... Seems like you and I are gonna be an interesting pair, ain’t we?” Spoke the younger nomad, giving her a somewhat cheeky smile as he tipped his hat back.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

"Hey Bea! Heard from Wakako you got yourself into the frying pan with the Tyger Claws while I was out of town. Maybe next time don't fuck with people who know where you live?" Teased Duston as he cruised across the desert having gotten in comms range about twenty minutes ago his first call was to 8ug8ear a good friend of his. As he listened to the Netrunner grumble a moment before giving her answer, Dusty reaching down adjust volume then pushing up into fourth gear as he watched the long straight road ahead.

The Clydesdale cruised onward hovering around eighty miles per hour as he looked around the rather interior of his supped up ride. The racing style wheel had the GPS up on it giving him directions as he rear camera's on the center console sweeping for any other cars or trucks sweeping from the cool low blue lights of the interior. His pistol sat in the side seat as the back seat had a massive freeze laid across filled with goodies from his folks up country. The low rumble of the engine mixing with the noises of the call as the two old friends caught up.

"You've missed a lot Rhodes, kinda for the better if you ask me. We've had a lot of shit go down in the city. Speaking of work, you're gonna have a hard time when you get back. Rogue's not running the show at Afterlife anymore, and the other fixers are all to their eyes in new Mercs. But you've got a talent and more importantly cred to back it, even if you are only a part time Solo." The Netrunner teased lounging as she spoke with him. "Speaking of loses... Jackie and T-bug didn't survive the shit that went down."

"Fuck... Well shit, I'll have to drop the steak by Mama Welles. I'm sure she'll make a meal worth me hauling it down for the guy, I know he always complained about not having real food..." Dusty tugged one of cigarettes out the pack setting it in his mouth then fighting the light which refused to spark. "Speaking of treats, I brought you a couple of whole chickens. Mom wanted to send me with a couple of live ones so you could have eggs. I shut that shit down quick, Netrunner's ain't got no business trying to raise chickens... Granted could also hook into the see how well it fried." He teased, thinking of the dangers of the Net as the sparker finally caught he was able to light his smoke.

"Yeah pretty sure apartment has a no pet rule... I thought about getting cat but... Worried it might go for my face while I'm on the job." She spoke sighing as she listened to the hum from his engine as Duston drove along. "What were you bringing T-Bug? Must be something good, you never had anything bad to say about her." She spoke with a fond memories of sitting around talking with Duston about his jobs, she enjoyed having a friend who didn't ask much about her work as he understood even less. Dusty was more hardware than soft, she appreciated he never pretended to know more than he did about Netrunning or software. "And how was working on the farm?"

"T-Bug? ...Coffee, I got a friend in Metacorp, got a real fresh coffee beans workaholic she is I figured she'd love to have some of the good stuff." He spoke softly taking a long drag ashes falling onto thick leather jacket, he didn't care much right now it was a lot to take in and it hurt to think some of the faces he'd hope to see wouldn't be there. "As for farm life... Herd got bigger, our statics have been doing a real bang up job. Harvest is looking real promising, we're hoping for a big one this year means if all goes well they won't need the money I'll be making and can save it up for next year or spend it on something... Maybe finally get myself a bike... Or new gun?" He spoke the usual first thing a Nomad thought about spending spare cash on.

"How about a new outfit? Maybe something from this century? You look like an cowboy flick Choom." 8ug8ear teased him as gave a laugh at her little taunting, she'd always complained about how much he stood out. He was always quick to point out Netrunner's didn't fair much better their bodysuits made them easy enough to spot even if they tried to cover them up. Taking a look out the window he sighed seeing dust clouds starting to approach from the rear.

"Listen, I got the data on my jobs and reports on them from NCPD an Corps as well. Push it to Claire an have her drop that to the fixers, remind'em just cause I'm part time don't mean I can't do a damn good job. I gotta cut our little chat short, Raffen coming up on my ass and I got put'er in gear and stand on it." He spoke as the vehicles began to form up. "I'll be in the city inside of six hours, let my favorite fixers know I'll take what they got to give legal or illegal. Also, don't go grabbing anymore Tygers by the tail Bea."

"Fine, fine. Don't let those Raffen Shiv ruin my food cow punk." She spoke as she hung up, Dusty finished his cigarette as they closed in about five hundred meters out now he exhaled the smoke through his nose as flicked the music on, something to focus on other than what he was gonna do to the Raffen. He could see it clearly, two trucks and three bikes Wraiths by the look of them looking for easy pickings, they wouldn't find it here. As the bikes moved in on him he reached down slowly, letting them creep up if he'd started to speed away they would have pulled guns. As they started to come along either side, he spun the wheel yank the brake as the car careened left hard swiping into the pair closing on either side smashing their bikes underneath as the armored plated hull of the Clydesdale smacked into the woefully prepared bikes.

Coming to a stop pointed at the remaining bike he released the brake, slamming it down into first the remaining reaching for his iron as the engine snarled like a horse about to charge. Slamming his foot down hard, rammed head on into the biker still who was fumbling with his SMG when he and the bike were sucked underneath the car as both trucks swerved stopping as the guys in back moved to hop out and take aim seeing their bikes had just dispatched so quickly. Before led could start flying Dusty tossed it into reverse as lowered the window yanking his lever gun off his back he leaned out. Letting lead fly as he kept the heavily armored front of his car pointed towards the now stopped trucking his foot pressed down hard as he tore away in reverse letting bullet clanking off the trucks and off his hood as he suddenly pulled back he yanked the wheel hard to the right.

The car spun around he slammed it down into first yet again roaring away, the trucks now lighter on personal began rip after him. Shutting the window he listened to the hollers and cries of the Wraith as he wound up the engine it screamed out a cry as the Clydesdale began zoom further and further along the horizon. Trucks were great for work and such, but sports cars with the right tuning could outrun them all day long, figuring the best thing to do was to sit up near top speed for an hour or two, make sure he was well beyond any of their friends up ahead.

---

"Howdy Jim! How's the wife and kids?" Duston spoke as the city bound cowboy took a seat in the in the darkened room of the border crossing agents inspection room. Sighing as he looked over Dusty returning yet again, smiling at him he couldn't help but offer him a hand to shake as James shook his head he really shouldn't get this chummy with a Nomad but here he fucking was again about to sit down and let him through. "Bet Maddie's shot up again an Daniel must be getting ready for high school?"

"They are doing fine, your paper work is in order just checking to see if you had any items you hadn't declared." He asked with a knowingly raising an eyebrow as he turned the light to face more own towards the table. A large and sizeable bottle was placed on the table, as Duston grinned happily at him. Proper whiskey, Firewater as it came to be known among Nomad clans it wasn't some swill you could get in a bar you had to know someone and that meant the bottles had value. Especially from the better brewers, fortunately for James Dusty's Clan were pretty damn good brewers.

"Well if that's you were carrying excess and it is a gift... I think you can head on through." The customs officers smiled shaking his head before adding. "And Dusty? Don't cause any fucking trouble, I don't need anyone wondering why I am always on shift when I see your name go through processing." He spoke turning around heading to lock up his prize as he stretched a moment, while the Cowboy picked up his guns he watched the custom car head on out into night city a couple more bottles of this stuff sold in the right place would put his kids through college. That was worth letting one friendly Nomad through once and awhile... Right?

As the Clydesdale made it's way into the city, Duston found himself in traffic so he lit up a smoke and leaned back taking a long deep breath. "Never gonna be home... But damn is it hard to quit you gorgeous." He spoke looking up the neon lights and metallic gleam of Night City smiling to himself. He programmed in his stops first go see Wakako, then over to Afterlife for a couple of drinks maybe pass out in one of the backrooms. Finally head over to see Mama Welles, then to his place across the bridge from Heywood in Pacifica, get the place spruced up chase off any squatters. After that get ready for work call around about jobs and Netrunner, anyone working without getting chipped needed a damn good Netrunner watching them, plenty a person with human eyes couldn't see these days.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

Duston Rhodes Jodes

'D U S T Y R H O D E S'
'D U S T Y R H O D E S'

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^{_{"The roads are home, Night City never will be."}}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y Duston Rhodes Jodes _________________________________________________________ 23 | ♂ | Bi-Sexual _________________________________________________________ Unmarried | Smuggler/Solo | Jodes Family P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E [+] ▼ P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Build - Tall, broad shoulders, well muscled ► Ethnicity - White suntanned ► Hair Colour - Auburn hair and beard ► Eye Colour - Brown eyes ► Other - Cuts, marks, and burns dot his body, mostly healed. - C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S [+] ▼ C H A R A C T E R I T E M S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Custom Quadra Type-66 Avenger "Clydesdale" - Custom tuned Nomad Cruiser, faster and more durable, it's been armored more than average. Built for border jumping, ramming Shiv off the road, and out running anything that it doesn't like though it eschews onboard weapon systems other might enjoy. Hand built and tuned by Dusty. Milspec ► Nomad .44 Magnum Revolver "Sam" - A rebuilt and retooled Colt fourty-four, old and tested with modern actions and equipment onboard it's as lethal as anything you'd pay an overblown gun store for. Basic ► Nomad gun kit - This kit carries the part for two unfinished guns, a grenade launching platform and high end anti-vehicle rifle. As well most tools to service and strip guns even basic spare parts for many fire arms. Expensive ► Nomad .44 Magnum Lever-Action Rifle "Henry" - A common rebuild these shorted rifles are more commonly seen on the bike holsters with cut down barrels for Outriders. Featuring stronger lever with a larger ring allows Dusty to spin it forward then back. Basic ► Jodes Leather Jacket and Bullet proof vest - Nomads gotta Rep there families, their rides and their looks are designed to do just that. Jodes especially take care of their own who range far from the family, as such Dusty has a proper Kevlar vest in with the heavy leather jacket. Basic ► Grafted Muscle - Grown muscled implanted into the body, increasing strength basically undetectable. Basic ► Muscle & Bone Lace: - The result is that the tissue is both stronger (physical strength is enhanced) and more resistant to damage. Muscle and bone lace will enhance overall strength and durability, but not to the degree of an actual artificial cyberlimb. Expensive ▼ K N O W N A S S O C I A T E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Name - Description/Relevance ▼ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Nomad Mechanic - From guns to cars to generators or more, Dusty has fixed them all time and time again. Life among Nomads means everyone has to help however they can, Dusty found his talent for gunsmithing and automotive work early and quickly had many fast friends among the convoy. Guns, Bikes, and Cars are what Nomad life revolves around, thus Dusty's skill meant he became someone they depended on greatly. Nomad mechanics are often asked for in town and cities, the Jodes have some of the best from mostly farming and rural background they know how to fix and keep things going long after the corps have intended them to fail. ► Tire Squeal'n Smuggler - Most of the best drivers have to chip in and run the car with their chrome and if you knock systems it out suddenly their as shit as they come. Manual control, hands on the wheel shifting it up and down at just the right moment. A symphony of engine whines and gear changes or quiet long hauls across empty highways, Dusty can do it all and happily. ► Jodes Cowboy Charisma - Charming and none to easy on the eyes, Dusty has the Jodes backing for his job and knows how to sweet talk his way through. Unlike many others he is really that generous, polite, sensitive about how he makes others feel. The Jodes are more welcoming than most other nations, many link to the remnants of their southern hospitality in trying to make everyone comfortable and welcome over fretting over little things. ► Fast hands, strong hands - The Bioware isn't just for bar fights and mechanic work, his increase strength of hands means his well practice lighting draw is backed up the strength to it on target if they prefer to get closer a mean bash to the skull with three pounds of steel in hand. Practiced in brawling with his siblings and family back home he knows how to throw hands. Shooting and brawling are things you learn growing up, though he's made more friends than corpses in bar fights. ► Pic'n and Grinning - Music is something else that differs between nomad tribes but with their roots firmly placed the South and agriculture. Jodes have loved the sounds of guitars, mournful songs, and other sweet melodies played in that old classic country style. So the music that Dusty brings with him is often different to much of the Night City life, almost alien yet he finds many with Noamd connections or true lovers of sound are quick to ask him about it. He'll sing and play a song a too from his own ability on occasion if asked by a friend. He prefers Blues, Bluegrass, and just about any variation of older country tunes. -

C H A R A C T E R H I S T O R Y C H A R A C T E R H I S T O R Y Born North West territories Duston's earliest memories is of the open road, endless fields of crops, cows, chickens, pigs and more. Early years were spent moving around, as his folks moved between the harvests and the job sites. Taking work everywhere, he never lacked for company and his mother under his constant pestering during their time trapped in the RV together would teach him about how guns worked. The middle child of five his mother was realized when he would sit quietly as watch her work on repairing and servicing the guns of the clan. By the time Duston was ten he had started to repair and build guns right there next to his mother when they were on the road. When they were in camp he spent his time learning about the vehicles they operated, he was incessant so soon when ever vehicles were getting repaired you'd find Duston right next passing tools and asking questions. His siblings took to farm work, gunslinging, and ranching like he did to cars and gunsmithing as his parents proudly watched them all grow up. The other four still with the clan, when Duston declared he wanted to become a smuggler for the clan. By sixteen he was learning to tear rubber and shoot Shiv out windows, he'd taken to riding shotgun in convoys like many of the younger members he was eager to take of the Raffen Shiv. Learning to throw grenades, shoot guns, and lead targets while moving at more than a hundred miles per hour. When he wasn't on the road, working on guns, or tuning up his car, he was singing music around the campfire or helping herd cattle. Duston was fast tracking his career after they had taken Quadra Avenger off some Wraiths he'd set to work trying to get it running. It took him nearly two years, more parts, swearing, and whacking the damn thing with a wrench when it wouldn't listen to him than he ever thought it would. However when it was his baby, his pride and joy "Clydesdale" he called it after the big fucking charger horses Knights to bear down on people with, this beast of a car could matched the name. While a normal Javelina is refined for speed, combat, without losing it's racing pedigree Dusty took the car to it's logical extra adding extra too in the interior for rear seating/storage, increasing truck space, and up armoring it. Of course if you increase the weight you need more power, so adding two turbo chargers to the Avengers much more massive engine. Finally changing out the automatic gearbox for a manual and getting a proper old school wheel in the thing. The Clydesdale is one of those nomad vehicles where people look it and drool, with it's better shocks, fuel economy, and ride comfort it has become the perfect mile muncher for Duston to cruise between home and Night City. Of course, opting to run without weapon systems and targeting computers like others meant that he had to depend on speed and armor to make up the difference. Or whatever weapons he brought with him, as he modified the passenger windows to be able to open up, mostly for being able to pick up fast food but shooting is good too. As such before he set out on first run to night city, his mother presented him with a Militech Cowboy Grenade launcher they had acquired for him to defend himself. Taking his older sister with him on his first trip to Night City they were moving shipment Nomad made firearms for the city's gun dealers. As restored older firearms are fairly popular on the second hand market, especially among those not looking to pay corporate prices for guns they don't have the chrome to handle. The goods made it safely across with no issue, during his first trip he got the bioware upgrades he wanted turning an already well built farm into an impressively muscled and strong young man. His sister spent most of the trip in the Aldercado's camp trading news and gossip while Duston got to work making contacts in the big city. It was during his first trip he met 8ug 8ear, or as he would to know her Bea, a good Netrunner with a penchant for merc work. Though he would meet a few others over the years T-Bug and Jackie Welles a pair of mercs who worked with on separate occasions during the coming years. Panam was another he remembered from the Afterlife and her partner Nash, in reality though he found himself around the middle of the rung for mercs and that was where he liked it. He came into town to make cash and send it home for when times got back they had a stash to rely on. Over the years, he drifted in and out of the city, but found himself working for just one fixer more and more, Rogue. Rogue lied that she had someone who kept a low profile, who did the job the right way and if it went bad got out of the city for a few months. Dusty was someone she could depend on to handle problems and never bring any to her door. Unfortunately the problem with a seasonal Merc is that they aren't always here when you could use'em and the problem when you go in and out, is that when things get really bad and you go back your never quite sure what you're walking into. However, Duston didn't stay away long, making yet another trip in to the city chatting with 8ug 8ear most of the way in only to find out most of his contacts were missing, dead, or gone. So... He got in touch with the Aterlife's bartender Claire sent her over a his Resume, namely a list of completed jobs, NCPD reports, payment records, and more on his previous jobs smuggling, solo work, and driving jobs. This Eddie character, he knew nothing about her or really if they even carried that he was one Rogue's regular Mercs. Most of the people who could vouch for him weren't around anymore and Bea wasn't gonna be able to help she was more on the info gathering side than anything. Especially after her close encounter with the Tyger Claws, he'd need a new Net Runner backing him up at least. Maybe he could look up some of T-bug's friends she was the best he'd met in the business, hell maybe even get answer on what happened to her from someone. Whatever happens next, Duston has what a nomad needs to survives guns and his ride. D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E Duston stands around six foot six inches, well muscled from years of labor combined with his bioware has made him strong as an Ox, with broad shoulders to match he's handsome in the classic way tall, broad, and strong. Along his face a well trimmed auburn that matches the slightly shaggy short hair he keeps bundled up under his broad Stetson hat. Moving down across his chest is usually a plain black T-shirt with a kevlar vest over it. Over his shoulders a heavy set brown duster of leather with the Jodes symbol emblazed across the back for all to see. As his hip sits his revolver and on his back rest the lever action both ready for use at a moments notice. A pair of heavy steel work boots with worn syn leather adorns his feet, if you watch him long enough you'll him produce a cigarette and twirl it between his fingers, he's trying to quit smoking again. A flask hidden in the pocket over his heart holds whiskey in it for when things in the city weight him down to much. Occasionally he'll tap the wood finished handles of his pistol just to occupy himself also like a nervous tic. Regularly running his fingers through his beard he is often slow to start a conversation but sincerely interested and intent once he does speak with someone. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) Duston has a handful of goals at the moment, one rebuild connections here in the city, two find out what happened to all the folks he used to and give them a send off, find a new Netrunner to run support for him someone whose not gonna sell him out either, make good money to send him to the folks and earn some good will from other mercs and fixers once again.