Antlers
Shu
wintersoldier
Mixtape Ghost N
TrippyNightmare
Charley
Marik
Shoopuf
Lime
Archazen
3. 2. 1. GO!
" Dios mios. Esta el Diablo!"
" Shit, I'm zoning out of here to Vegas before he notices - "
" You saw his race in 55' with the OverDriver?-"
Turn on the taps. Wash the whispers away with water.
3. 2. 1. GO!
The neon scream. The knocking of ethyl gas in the carburetor. The pounding in your head, a war dance of high speed collisions and illegal stunts. The edge of death that he craves for, yet, he knows he has to avoid.
3. 2. 1. GO!
He closes off the taps and stares back haggardly as if he's been holding his breath underwater for several hours. Blood, sweat and dead skin swirl down in the bone-white porcelain basin. Hands, of both flesh and chrome, grip the side of the sink steadiy as he stares back at his broken reflection. He's careful not to let water spill on the biweave jacket hanging on the lip of the basin. He dips his head back into the basin and gurgles out his anxiety in slow spits.
The tap-water between his fingers still feel like molasses. It's unbearable to him how slow the world outside of an 1500 HP engine is. To feel the syn-crete on your feet instead of asphalt on poly-plas tires. To see a frozen world with your corneas instead of the blurry, high-speed dream. To walk instead of drive. He splashes a few more droplets on his face, trying to rinse off the smell of stewed sweat in his hair. The jitters of race-fueled adrenaline in his fingers are long gone now, its absence making his hairs feel clammy like old snake skin. He grabs the hood of his jacket before pushing open the door only to be met with a blast of coppery air.
A single street light barely manages to illuminate the contours of his ride's bulk. Just as he's a few meters away, the automatic doors peel open like an butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. He checks his gloves, tightening the straps, whilst checking the horizon. Him, the gas station attendant and a couple of no ones lazing about underneath the roof. Just how he liked it. The less busier the crowd, the more free the roads would be for him.
500 feet above the teeming masses, a tri-copter drone slowly takes pictures of the lonely figure with its hyperspectral cameras, the lenses shuttering and opening with minute clicks. It flutters mid-air for a while before disappearing in the dead of the night.
>CONNECTING TO LABYRINTH VPN......
>SCRAMBLING IDENTITY SIGNATURES
>GENERATING SECURITY KEYS
>CONNECTED TO ROUTERS
>LOGIN
>ENTER PASSWORD
*****************
>ENGAGING BIO-VOC CONFIRMATION.
>USER 45-239-#9050 CLEARED TO ENTER THE LABYRINTH
>OPENING DATA SIFTER.....
>ENTER QUERY
>:THE DRIFT DEMON
>PROCESSING............
Alright. Let's see whose dirty little secret you are, Drift Demon.....
://DRIFT_D3MON.EXE
Put the pedal to the mettle and pedal to the metal
TOP SPEED OF 29 KPH| MALE MODEL | 5'8 HP ENGINE| RATED B FOR BURNING RUBBER
PROVIDING GENERAL INFORMATION
He’s encountered plenty of strange Zoners over the years from Bangkok techno-pilgrims to Johannesberg mercenaries. This one's new, though.
“ Card please.”
Another quarter hour on his paycheck meets him dressed in a striped thermoweave 2020 bomber and plated slacks. Connie, for a moment, curses Gatch for defunding the regional borders of South City and reducing regulations. Being the only booth in 100 klicks means that every nobody and no ones wanting to go into the Reclaim Zone needs to go through him. He stares at the clock. 30 more minutes. Half an hour. Just a little while longer. He stares back up at the silent statue of a man and repeats his request again. " Card please." Connie wonders or not he needs to repeat his question but the stranger seems to read his mind. A aramid-plated fingerless glove slides a smudged NID over on the countertop. , Slotting in the NID, the monitor begins to whirr, carbon-silicate processors fishing out data from the depths of the Labyrinth.
“ Had to come at midnight, didn’t you?” Connie muses as he extends an Engitech stylus, doing standard calibration procedures that have become habit by now. “ You’re lucky that you caught my last shift.”
“ Not luck.” The mysterious rider says. “ Speed.”
You're not just some upstart, are you? No, this stranger's a racer. As he waited for the data retrieval to complete, Connie looked at the new arrival to South City more closely. His eyes were hardened and wizened beyond his years like old tarmac. His mud-brown hair was pepper gray at the fringes. The pungent aroma of micro-lubricant cloyed on his skin. So, you're a greasemonkey too, eh? The only chrome on him was a jack-port growing out of his collarbone along with a maze of circuits and surgery scars criss-crossing up the right side of his neck. The beeping from his monitor forced him to pay attention to it as the data records scrolled up line by line on the LED screen.
NAME: Keah Kaito
ALIASES//TITLES: N/A
CURRENT AGE: 26
SEX: Male
PAST OCCUPATIONS
- Professional Combat Racer (APEX Incorporated)
- Assistant Automotive Technician (The Drive-Through)
- Assistant Automotive Technician (The Drive-Through)
CURRENT OCCUPATIONS
- Delivery Man (Suraiboshen Standard)
Suraiboshen Standard….Isn’t it that fancy omakase place down near the corporate districts?
“ I don’t suppose you have any aliases, do you?” The racer pauses. Connie takes it as a signal to continue on. “ I mean, it’s optional but you know, not asking for a fingerprint- “
The answer nearly made him drop his stylus. He tries to fill in the empty field but he balks at the first letter already. He slides the nid over back towards him in a hurry and tries to keep his composure until the fucking - why? - goes out. He sits back and processes what he just saw before shaking his head. Nope. Nope. He didn't see anything. Absolutely nothing at all.
It’s probably about time that he took early leave too. He taps a button, the neon sign outside the booth switching from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' before checking whether or not there's any good tour deals this season.
Why did South City have to attract the fucking Drift Demon of all people?
://open message Y/N?
>Y
://opening private file .....
Congratulations on making it to South City. I hope the drive through the wastes wasn't too inconvenient for you. You probably knew this already but you've made the position. It took a lot of convincing but you're now the personal driver of the Pirate Party's campaign.
Your personal responsibilities are as follows.
- Transportation and transfer of all members involved in Serena Petrukov's council campaign, from locations within and out of South City.
- To consult on and advise on possible transport schedules and routes
- To maintain, modify and change your transport vehicle of choice in order to ensure that all journeys will be as smooth as possible.
- To evacuate Serena Petrukov and all relevant personnel in the Pirate Party away from danger.
Confirmation and discussion of your payment and benefits will come in later meetings. For now....
Welcome to South City, Drift Demon.
Jorek Chado
Psychological Profile
Life is a race and not everyone gets first place.
Aloof | Wishful | Honorable | Loyal | Adrenaline Junkie | Speed Samurai
PERSONAL GOAL
KZZZZZTTTTT - Another delivery today. Two servings of chutoro to some cushy corporate woman living up near Hostel 13. Rent's going up. Mohan's joking that they'll be making tuna an extinct species if business like this keeps going up.
Look at me. Going from the Drift Demon of the Death Derby to Deliveryman of South City. What would you think of me, OverDriver?
You once told me that drivers like us get to have quick deaths or live quick dreams. That you'd prefer a quick death. A quick death was my dream. Once. I don't know how you can bear it. Being lost. Believing that you've got only one road in life and disregarding all the other routes you could have taken.
That's where we're different, OverDriver. I came here for a dream. The dream to free the Islanders. To free the Sunken. To free my people from their chains of those filthy corporate omoomo ule. Even if they don't want me to.
No more driving away from my problems. I'm going to drive towards my problems now.
- KZZZZZTTTTTTT
CAMPAIGN GOAL
Chado,
I need three assurances if the Party wants me as their driver.
- Give all remaining documented and undocumented Pacific Islanders living within South City official citizenship and legal personhood.
- Section off a block for us to live in safely.
- To open investigations into Amalgamation's conduct and charge them with corruption and corporate misconduct.
If the Pirate Party isn't willing to gut Amalgamation for me and my people, then, you're not the fixer you claim to be.
Do this for me and I'll drive whoever you need. Whenever you need me. Wherever you need me.
>READY TO SEND MESSAGE Y/N
>Y
>SENDING.....
>PRIVATE MESSAGE SUCCESSFULLY SENT
PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY:
I want to be free. We all deserve to be free. It's in our natural states to be freed, not to be tied down and neutered by the whims and wishes of those living in their ivory towers. I'm not gonna be a passenger and wait for someone to drive me to my next destination. The only way to achieve freedom is to live life fast and on the move. To live life between the ticks of the tachometer. To feel the engine thrumming between your fingers. To slow down is to surrender. There is only one way to move and that's forward.
I'm a driver. I drive wherever I go, whenever I want and whoever I want in my car.
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY:
The Luddites. Hyperhumans. The Transhumans. The Central Party. I only have one question to ask them.
Where were you?
When our islands sank to the ground, when our councils sat on their asses and shrugged their shoulders, when no aid was sent, when our people died from dehydration by the thousands, what did the world do? Nothing. What did years of bureaucratic bargaining and corporate deals do for the Islanders? Nothing. We were an political inconvenience to them.
We got our food supplies when fixers set us up with underground hydroponic smugglers from the East. We got our work visas from Cuban hackers who got in touch through fixers. Our corporate taxes got filed and burned by a Thai slicer. We got access to the Labyrinth from black-hat hackers. If my time in the Ark has taught me, it's better to deal with those who get their hands dirty rather than the ones who have clean hands. That's why the Pirate Party's got my support in this election.
SECRETS:
If word was to get out that I was a Pacific Islander, the Enforcers would come after me and send me back to wherever they've got the rest of them holed up now. Given that I'm also a member of the Ark, well, I don't think life imprisonment is something that I want to risk at the moment.
The Drift Demon isn't my personal secret anymore. It's a secret shared among a group of individuals and I'm not keen on shouting out who I am unlike some other racers. Let's just say I didn't make a lot of friends back in the Death Derby. Word goes out that the Drift Demon is around and they're going to greet with open guns instead of open arms.
FEARS:
For most of us Islanders, it's the sea. It's not the storms that kill you. It's the thirst and then, the madness. People adding caff sweeteners to salt water to rid them of their throats. I'll never go on a boat as long as I live. Never again.
But, that's not what I fear most. Or rather, who I fear most.
I fear myself. Of losing myself to the race and becoming a slave to my own desires. To forget those closest to me and favor the wheel. The Drift Demon. I didn't earn it from some hungry media journalist. I earned it through a road paved on blood, bones and treachery. If I lose control, if I give myself over to the car, what becomes of me?
To be the Drift Demon is my greatest nightmare of all.
REPUTATION:
Yeah? Like I said before, better luck for Yialla next season. If she was a little more confident on her turns, I could see-
What? The Drift Demon? I thought this interview was about me?
Who’s the Drift Demon? I’ll tell you who he isn’t.
He’s not my buddy. He’s not my cousin or brother. He’s not some experimental full-body aug Android like those conspiracy types like to say nor is he some genetic freak of experiment from Gaea Naturae. Don’t believe everything from the Labyrinth is.
He’s a racer. Back in 53', he arrived on the scene with a beat up Toreador that looked like it came straight out of the scrapyards. Everyone was laughing at him until he made third place. A fresh rookie who rejected every sponsorship from APEX to Engitech. Six months ago, he tied with me. Who knows what will happen during the next season finals? No, I'm not going to say it.
So, who is he to me? I’m the OverDriver and he’s the Drift Demon. That’s who he is. He’s the yin to my yang, the north to my south, whatever feng shui Buddhist crap comes from Tokyo. It’s me and him going for first place and everyone else gunning for last.
So. Who are you, then?
LIKES:
- Racing No
- Fresh Sushi
- More Racing Stop it
- Automobile Modification
- Did we mention Racing? Definitely not.
- Being on the Move
DISLIKES
- Pre-Pack
- Racing Are you sure?
- Gaudy Cars
- The Sea
- Racing I don't think so.
- Oppression of The Deprived
- Corporate Scum
- Racing You're lying to yourself
- Bosozoku Bastards
QUIRKS:
- Tapping his foot, his finger, snapping, to move and fidget when he's staying still.
- Commenting and criticizing on vehicles he encounters whenever he gets a chance.
- Flipping off bosozoku.
Background Information
" Gah, don't stop movin' that arc-cutter before ya burn yourself, boy!" Gasket's growl interrupts him from his focus as the plasma welder nearly falls out of his hand. " Jeez, these islanders.....telling you Rob....never shoulda allowed them here."
Don't stop moving. It's the last words that his dad ever told him. The memory of his parents, his brothers, his sisters may have rotted and decayed from the tides of time but he keeps their last words closely like a treasure.
He remembers the Great Pacific Exodus. Unstable climatic conditions and rising water levels were an annoyance to the rich nations of the world but for his people, it was an existential crisis.A Category 3 hurricane first took Kiribati. Then, the flooding made Samoa uninhabitable. The rest of Polynesia and Micronesia followed. The corpo execs and employees were evacuated first, along with all of the tourists. The rest of them were forced to fend for themselves in that boiling sea. All he remembers is of it is the journey, his ship waterlogged, the hull sinking to the ground 10 miles from shore. How Amalgamation offered them resettlement programs that offered them safe harbor in South City.
The dissapearances began 4 months after they arrived. Rumours that Amalgamation were forcibly kidnapping people to test new augs spread around their little neighborhood. He was young and foolish, trapped in naveity, content to believe the sweet patronisations of corporate figureheads. That was until the remaining leaders of their little bloc didn’t take their mutiny well. He wondered if it was right that day to join on the side of the rebels, to lick the sewer water of the streets instead of corporate boots.
Whilst the rest of the Islanders stayed behind, content to stay imprisoned and chained to Amalgmation's whims, the Ark formed; a group of exiles who decided that they weren't going to stay under Amalgmation's They moved north to Portland and spread out to shake their trail as Enforcers began trailing them. The strategy by their leader, Noah, was simple. Spread out, decentralize and integrate into their communities. Every member of the group had to chip in as well. Some chose a life of crime whilst others chose honest work. Like him.
" What are ya doin' just standin' there, boy!" Gasket shouts out towards him. " Keep moving!"
He picks up the titanium gyro-mallet and begins hammering out the bent and buckled chassis of the 2030 Courier with solid strikes.
Don't stop moving.
Can't stop moving.
Won't stop moving.
A climate refugee. An exile from a group of exiles. His nation underwater. His family gone. Every race fan and driver would be shocked to learn that the Drift Demon, the Dock Devil himself, would come from such a rough and tumble background. Keah’s young and impressionable mind, needless to say, wasn’t in the most stable of states when he signed up for Portland’s local Death Derby at the ripe age of 15. When rumours started spreading among the regular racers that they would be facing a guy who had made a car entirely by himself. The absurdity of the situation only increased when they realised that the racer was a greasemonkey.
All of it was worth it, though. In his first race, Keah took third place. Local commentators immediately wrote him off as a fluke. Then, he took second. Then, first. People woke up and began to pay attention. After twenty underground races, the entire international community began paying attention, from Toge racers in Japan to mat rempits in South East Asia. His name was birthed on his twentieth birthday, originating from the roaring sounds of the TrailBlazer engine whenever it made a turn. One commentator aptly put it as "sounding like a demon from Hell itself". Noah Falders, the leader of the Ark, was pleased with how Keah had rebranded and reforged himself, becoming an idol to the members of the Ark for how Islanders like them could gain attention and a platform. The prize money from every match was nothing to scoff at either.
All of that came to a head when Keah took an offer from APEX industries for a full time sponsorship to drive for them at the Metro Prix, the highest level of racing in the country. His mission? To topple the OverDriver who was currently sponsored by EngiTech. Keah accepted the offer but with certain caveats. It would only be a limited time sponsorship, a one time deal. He would deign himself to wear their sticker on his ass but he would never drive one of their cars for them. The contract was struck and the rest is history. The Trailblazer faced Monica. The Drift Demon faced the OverDriver on 2055, September 9th, on the eve of Fall, in Chicago. Two unstoppable forces.
The first tie in Metro Prix history occurred. It was simply unbelievable.
From that match, the Drift Demon and the OverDriver became steady rivals, growing a odd respect for one another as kings of the road. Things began taking a turn, though, apart from the usual list of jealous racers who'd put hits on him and street gangs that he'd infuriated. On the beginning of the new season, Keah witnessed the famous crash of the OverDriver in 57’ was a wake up call for Keah. To further compound it, APEX industries was displeased about how Keah was unable to beat the OverDriver and how he'd changed certain terms of their agreement. Some would say it was disproportionate retribution when APEX hired ScrapHead mercenaries to burn down and destroy all Ark presence in Portland. Realising that he’d been driving away from his responsibilities and the fate that his desires would eventually land him in, Keah took an early retirement, much to the chagrin of every race fan and rival. A racer retiring in his prime was equivalent to a predator hibernating in the middle of a kill.
Keah fled east towards the New York Seaboard, both out of fear and wandering towards another place, lost amidst the ash of his failures. He hooked up and connected with an Ark cell who had heard word about his fame through the Labyrinth. His prodigious skill set eventually landed him the job of a sushi delivery man at Suraiboshen Standard, which outsourced Michelin three star grade omakase meals to anyone. At the right price. To anyone else, landing a cushy job would have been a dream come through but for Keah, it was maddeningly safe. Driving at 100 kph was a snail's pace compared to the intensity and blood pumping adrenaline of the Death Derby and the Metro Prix. Yet, he knew the risks if he were to go back. He began to grow dissatisfied with himself, longing for a chance to prove himself, with the guilt of leaving the population of Islanders in South City to fend for themselves, entrapped in the arms of the corps, grew like a fungus.
Eventually, the New York branch of the Ark contacted him. Jorek Chado, an obscure fixer, was offering him an opportunity to free the Islanders from under the grip of Amalgmation, to stop them from being their guinea pigs.
Participate in one last race.
Drive for the Pirate Party.
First place prize? Free their people.
How couldn't he accept it?
Operative Information
AUGMENTATIONS:
//Custom Vinci Dynamics Octo-Dactyl CyberHand 5.5
Vinci Dynamics. A New Renaissance for a New Age.
After losing most of his right hand in a grievous post-race feud with the Car Czar, Keah agreed to be the primary test bed for a start-up Italian tech corporation known as Vinci Dynamics. Whilst Vinci Dynamics no longer lives on due to becoming a subsidiary of Amalgamation, their augmentations and products have become valued keepsake items in America. Vinci Dynamic's augmentations notably differ from the rest of the market by pushing the envelope of design and pursuing a more avant-Garde approach towards cybernetic physiology.
Composed out of a mixture of carbo-aramid fiber and a specialised composite metallic foam alloy, this eight digited cybernetic hand comes with miniaturized rotary joints that allow a high degree of inhuman flexibility and reinforced myolon systems strong to crush concrete. Each digit can move independently of one another, thanks to an inbuilt intuitive artificial redundant neural system linked up to Keah's brain.
Aside from this, the index finger contains an inbuilt manual ignition key for the TrailBlazer as part of a two-step security protocol.
EQUIPMENT:
EngiTech Auto-Division RedLine III
EngiTech's new RedLine is a reliable favourite of racers who compete in both the underground Death Derbies and the nationally beloved Metro Prix. Whilst aesthetically less sleek and modern than most of its other competitiors such as the FuryTech Prism, it makes up for it with reliability and protection. The carbo-plast titanium dipped bi-weave affords the user an incredible amount of trauma protection with the polarised uni-aperture visor shielding the user's eyes from distractions.
As with most modern racing helmets, the RedLine HUD can be interconnected to the sub-systems of the user's vehicle, allowing the user to view details such as the condition of their vehicle, the level of charge left remaining in the users batteries and mileage. Similar to the ubiquitous Tele-Links, the RedLine provides an option for the user to control their car through voice commands whilst being outside of the vehicle. However, the user must maintain proximity within a 200 m radius of the car.
//The TrailBlazer
I'm not gonna ride on the backs of giants. I'm gonna make one from their corpses.
The personal vehicle of the Drift Demon, having gone extensive modifications over the years since Keah first received it. Unlike most other drivers who stick to one brand and one brand only, Keah's car is entirely jury-rigged from a collection of other cars, collecting the best parts of each to fuse into one Frankenstein monstrosity. The only distinguishing trait that marks it out from other cars is the distinctive striped '666' painted on the front hood. The rear compartments contain toolboxes and spare parts in which Keah can perform quick fixes when he's not at his own personal garage.
CURRENT SPECS
Plate: CA 6117
Color: Two Tone Vanta Obsidian/Hot Rod Crimson
Engine: Rear-Mounted Turbo-Charged 10.00 L 1200 HP XLRH99 Fusor
Transmission: Digital Assisted Manual Sequential AWD
Body: Carbon-Boron Oly-Laminate Sheeting With Reinforced Titanium-Ceramic Plating
Chassis: SLS Manufactured Composite Alloy
PERFORMANCE
- 0-60 in 0.9 seconds
- Top Speed of 580 MPH
OTHER PARTS
- Takahashi-Avica Conqueror VERGE Front Bumper
- Toreador Motorworks Nimbus Dual-Nitro Injection System
- Engi-Tech Axle-Back Integrated Sifter Exhaust System
- Tamago MG-LV WindRose Model R Smart Tires
- APEX Auto-Division Gull-Wing Steering Wheel
- Engi-Tech Auto-Division Orbital Memory Foam Cushioning
SKILLS
//Death’s Chaffeur - He's not that Driver. He's the Driver. Keah's driving skills are unparalleled and seemingly supernatural, even amongst the veteran racers of the Death Derby or the Iron Rally 500. To survive and thrive in the deadly, high-stakes environment of Combat Racing and earn the name of Drift Demon takes not only talent and technique but the ability to adapt to any situation at hand, which Keah has in spades, able to switch on fly from a careful, rule-abiding citizen of the Zone to a law-breaking turboblazer. This experience also allows him to act as a capable getaway driver and instinctively predict the mannerisms and actions of other drivers on the road without a single mistake. One thing's for certain. You don't get publically announced as an official 'rival' by the OverDriver without something to back up your reputation.
So, when you decide to challenge the Drift Demon in his territory, you better be prepared for him to take you to deep water and drown you in asphalt.
So, when you decide to challenge the Drift Demon in his territory, you better be prepared for him to take you to deep water and drown you in asphalt.
//P.H.D in Auto Physiology - What distinguishes Keah from most other racers on the streets is that he doesn't rely on a Keah doesn't merely know how to drive a car; he knows a car from inside to out. Whilst he's not a talented Ripper Doc or a HyperHuman augmentation specialist, Keah possesses adaquate knowledge on how to repair, maintain, modify and ,yes, manufacture automobiles to suit his needs or the needs of anyone else. This also extends to a keen understanding of being able to intuitively pick up and assess the advantages and weaknesses of every car possible, just based on the sound of the engine.
//5-Star Delivery - Keah is singlehandidly responsible for why Suraiboshen delivery services are so valued among those who can shell out enough dollars for it. Years of experience driving within South City has bestowed upon Keah a encyclopediac GPS within his own brain of every possible journey, tour, route and detour within the vast arcology. Keah has also become a meticulous indivdual when it comes to planning journeys and routes, scouting out roads and thoroughly researching potential hazards and secret routes in order to reduce his boredom on the mind-numbing amount of sushi deliveries he has to make.
FLAWS
//Speed Samurai, Not Street Samurai
- Driving skills do not translate to an ability in combat situations outside of vehicles. Whilst Keah isn't completely blind to the art of spilling blood with your own bare hands, he can't be counted to do much in combat situations other than running people over with his car. //Turbo'Blazin Blood - All those who follow the path of the High Way are known to have high-octane blood that reeks of ferocity and unbridled rage. This same blood boils within the Drift Demon's veins, making him extremely reckless in pulse-pounding situations and always resorting to violent responses when he is emotionally compromised or agitated. This may be harmless outside of a car but when he's inside a car, good luck getting him out. Keah's refusal to take Neurosynth to reduce the mental degredation caused by his cybernetics also excaberates his blood thirsty tendencies.
//The Price of a Name - You don't get called Drift Demon without breaking a few eggs and bodies along the way. Keah's reputation as well as his past actions have attracted unsavory individuals, including riled gang members, uppity street racers and disgruntled bosozoku, itching to challenge him in his territory. Whilst going to South City has turned the heat off his back, Keah's involvement in the elections may prove to bring back familiar faces.
NOTES:
| Character name | Relationship |
|---|---|
| Lott Ramana | I'll give Adamantia Steele this. She's more bearable than the other corpos that I come across on my drives. Having been forced to work closely with Lott during the 2055 MetroPrix, his experience with this, in his own words, a corporate tailgater, was not memorable or positive in any way possible. He finds her best when she's silent and doesn't keep yapping on about procedure, the importance of corporate image or the terms of his contract. Keah has only accidentally encountered her once after 2055 during a delivery of synthetic egg rolls to her apartment. Needless to say, Keah is not interested in meeting Lott again or ever. |
| Sister Violet | The Ripper Doc. She's got the soul of a turboblazer in her. One road, one direction. Hope she doesn't die at her destination. Out of all the racers and drivers that the Drift Demon has encountered over the years, there are only a handful of people he respects. That includes this aspirant of the HyperHuman party. The two first met after Keah won a close race against a Triad driver by the name of Chrome Wind whose reaction to his loss was quite extreme. After that, the lone driver was dragged bloody and unconcious to her clinic. After awakening in a haze of anesthetic, a glass of tea was offered to him by none other than Sister Violet herself. The two have then since maintained a quiet yet amicable relationship, Keah coming back to her for repairs to his own augmentations whilst politely refusing her suggestions for ....improvements. He also sympathises with her own political perspectives, in spite of how strange they might seem. |
