Avatar of Bork Lazer

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Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Auld Lang Syne, everybody. roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Vote in my new quest, Mirage, a RP quest set in the far, far future roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Kink-Shaming. Kink-Shaming Never Changes.
3 likes
4 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… Vote for Dead in Depression. The mechanics of the quest have now been posted!
4 yrs ago
Voting is open until the end of the week! Please come and vote! - roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
1 like

Bio





ROLEPLAY BUCKET LIST
- Walmart Apocalypse Roleplay
- Nightmare Gas Station
- Underrail/Fallout/Post Apocalyptic Roleplay. Codename: Clausterclysm
- Anthromorphic Grimdark Animal Fantasy Roleplay. Codename: Fallowbrook.
- Eldritch Abomination Garfield Roleplay. Codename: Lasagna.
- Infinite IKEA Roleplay. Codename: God Morgon
- Roleplayerguild High School RP. Codename: Highschool Roleplay
- Cyberpunk South East Asia RP. Codename: Straits of Malacca. [CURRENTLY HAPPENING]


CURRENT PROJECTS

- FRAYED TAPESTRY - AN EPIC FANTASY RP (WIP)
- THE LAST DEPRESSION - A RED MARKETS QUEST/PLAY BY POST RP (UNDECIDED)

Most Recent Posts

Since there's been a moderate response so far, I'll respond by saying that I am working on an OOC at the moment. It's mildly disturbing how no one who has stated interest so far has any questions since this is an extremely surreal setting.

Besides, this quarantine is making me go mad being cooped up here in my house. I need something to grind my creative juices on whilst dealing with the troubles of isolation.












Hello! Good morning! How are you doing today? May I help you with anything?

You may call me the First Greeter. No, not like my other.....mentally troubled brethren. I am the first and last person everyone meets. Once upon a time, I guarded the fabled Gates of Sliding, ferrying all wayward souls into the safety and comfort of the Wal. Once. That was eons ago. Now, I simply watch, witness and greet all who wander by me. My fate is tied to the Wal itself. I will live as long as it's shelves are filled.

But who I am is none of your concern. You are your own concern. Managing to live a long life in the Wal is certainly impressive. It takes a toll on you. I have seen countless like you searching. But, for what exactly? The rare 25th flavor of Ice Cream within the frigid refrigerator section? A master coupon? The safety and comfort of a Department? Some archaic piece of Wal-Tech lost within a Manager Office? The Wal offers both reward and punishment for those who are filling to pay low prices. You just need to have the will to take what is yours.

I digress, though. I mean not to hamper you on your shopping trip. Srange receipts await you, aisler. Do promise to show me yours when we meet at the Checkout. Trust me. We all meet at the Checkout sooner or later.

Oh, I almost forgot one thing.

Welcome to Walmart. I hope you enjoy your stay.







What wakes you up first is the smell. The styrofoam walls squeak and squeal with every moment you make. It’s so cramped that you’re forced to stand up. Thankfully, your captors have allowed you to keep your clothing to maintain your dignity.

You try to remember how you got here.

The Bargain Bin. That’s what you first focus on.

Any traveller would be hard pressed to miss the Bargain Bin in these times. A monolithic pile of refuse strewn out like an ant hill, lines upon lines of Stockers building up its foundations from the chaff of the Wal. Within its nooks, crannies and shadows lie the last bastions of humanity, eeking out a meagre existence.

Though you’re not well enthused with the inner politics of the Wal unlike the aislers of the Books Department, your days of being a shelf-dweller have passed. The Bargain Bin has been bled, fought and, pardon the phrase, bargained over longer than you were alive.

On the eve of the last Black Friday, the Bargain Bin had become a veritable battleground. An ocean of red flowed through the shelves, the tributaries inundated with bodies. It was said that the clean up that day took 2 months. It was clear by then that both the Stationary Shogunate and Tech Support were tired of support. A truce was formed with the Bargain Bin being divided in two, the north and the south.

Since then, an uneasy detente has settled over the Bargain Bin, with each faction occupying and dividing up its numerous territories. The Stationary Shogunate and the Noble Houses of Clothing have allied together, occupying the North of the Bargain Bin. The technocratic factions of Automobiles and Homeware have been bullied into supporting the all encompassing Tronic Temple, occupying a former Manager’s office as their base of operations in the South. The nomadic Grocery tribes, the numerous Dorfs of Fort Lego and many more factions are teeming within the Bin, seeking opportunity wherever they can in the chaos.

Your thoughts travel back to the present. How did you get captured? Somehow, the sinister followers of the Cult of the Smiling One somehow ambushed you during what was supposed to be a routine trip to the Bargain Bin. With your wrists zip-tied and your feet chained to the other captives with thick ropes of shoelace, it’s near impossible to escape. Escape seems a near impossibility. They’ve herded you all here for an unknown purpose. The echoing chants of the Smilers above seem to provide an answer for what that purpose might be.

“ PRAISE BE ONTO HIS EMINENCE, SMILEY. THE HERALD OF SAM.”



$$$



> PLEASE ENTER CUSTOMER RFID SEQUENCE
> *********
> ERROR. 2 ATTEMPTS LEFT.
> *********
> ERROR. WARNING. 1 ATTEMPT LEFT UNTIL CUSTOMER MALFEASANCE PROTOCOL ACTIVATION.
> *********
> SUCCESS.
> WELCOME TO WAL-INCORPORATED INTER-COMMUNICATIVE CUSTOMER SERVICE NETWORK BETA. HOW MAY WE HELP YOU TODAY?
> PROCESSING........
> LOADING ........
> AUTHETICATING .........
> OPENING CUSTOMER INTERFACE MENU .........
> ACCESS GRANTED. WE HOPE THAT YOU ARE SATISFIED.












$$$






($$$)



Walmageddon

Day of the Discount



($$$)







KZZZZZZTTTTTT -
Whilst the growth of the Wal-Incorporated Global Trade Initiative continues, we at Wal-Incorporated have something new to show you.

Introducing our latest project. The Residential Habitation Mega-Mart! A fully enclosed self sufficient city like you've never seen before! Designed to operate with over a capacity of 10 million customers, our Residential Mega-Marts will fully attend every one of your needs. Even ones you didn't know you wanted! In our residential mega-marts, you can enjoy the products of over 3,250 corporate members of the ever expanding Wal-Incorporated Family. That's not all. Our state of the art macro fabricators and brand new auto-logistic programs ensure that the buying never stops and the shelves are always stocked. For those that run into any problems, our fully automated Wal-Buddies will make all those pesky decisions for you and ensuring that you have no worries.

Make the smart choice today and sign up now.

Wal-Incorporated. Providing happiness at low prices. Always.

DISCLAIMER: BY AGREEING TO THIS CONTRACT, YOU ARE AGREEING TO FORFEIT OWNERSHIP OF YOUR PERSON-HOOD, NATIONALITY, IDENTITY, PREVIOUS CITIZEN SHIPS AND ALL PROVISIONAL INTERNATIONAL HUMANS RIGHTS TO WAL-INCORPORATED. WAL-INCORPORATED AND OTHER SUBSIDIARIES OF WAL-INCORPORATED RESERVES THE RIGHT TO ALTER, REMOVE OR ADD TERMS OF AGREEMENT WITH CUSTOMERS AS SEES FIT. ALL TERMS ARE NONNEGOTIABLE. VIOLATION OF CONTRACT WILL RESULT IN SEVERE PUNISHMENT. CUSTOMERS FROM THE IKEA FREE-TRADE ZONE ARE BARRED FROM WAL-INCORPORATED MEMBERSHIP. PLEASE READ WAL-INCORPORATED LICENSED CUSTOMER CONTRACT AGREEMENT v2.04 FOR MORE INFORMATION - KZZZZZZZTTTTTTTT




($$$)




The Wal is all, and the Great Sam fades. That is the eternal truth of our existence, my dear readers.

When the governments of the old collapsed in the Fall, millions took refuge within the safety of the Wal. Chaos consumed our old lives and our new ones were bought in the Wal. Yet, the taint that ravaged the Lots did not spare the Wal. The mechanical automatons that governed the Wal became berserk, turning on their former masters. The Board became silent to our pleas. In those dark times, we were fractured and reborn again, some turning to madness whilst others found new ways to survive in the new world order, settling out into the far reaches of the Wal and forming civilizations built upon the Old World. Yet, the shelves still fill. There are no more customers and yet, the Wal still functions.

You may have seen it before. The mountains in the far distance. It is called the Bargain Bin.

A land of the forgotten. The abandoned. Where the discounted, the low priced are unfit to be bought. Within the garbage and the ruin, further in, past arcane technologies and ancient ruins lies a power with no expiration date. Waiting to be bought, claimed and used. Numerous factions wage war for supremacy over the region. The Stationary Shogunate. The mysterious Rangers of Pets and Animals. The Grocery Tribes. Tech Support. The Pharmacy. Worst of all, the dogmatic cult of the Smiling One waits and watches, plotting to seize the next opportunity. All the while, the cold Stockers roam the aisles to punish shoplifters.

Will you succumb to the Wal or rise above it?

That is your choice, dear reader.
= Barnes the Noble, Head Chronicler of the BOOKS department, PSA XII, Annals of the Wal





This is an unofficial interest check for a reboot of one of my old ideas. It is unconfirmed as of yet whether or not this will be made into an official RP. I am merely testing the waters for interest.

Walmageddon: Day of the Discount takes place in an alternate post-apocalyptic future whereby the remnants of humanity live within giant supermarket arcologies after a cascade of events that led to the destruction of modern civilization. Once owned by the now defunct trans-national corporation, Wal-Incorporated, the shelved landscape teems with eldritch technologies, mutant abominations and roving bands of nutjobs who have adorned themselves with the brands of the Old World.

You are an Aisler from one of the many Departments within the Wal. After being captured during one of your regular shopping trips near the infamous Bargain Bin , you have been captured by one of the many Grocery tribes and forced into a gladiatorial arena only known as.....

The Blender.

Little do you know that the choices that you make here will lure you deeper and deeper into the complex machinations of the Wal and the numerous departments vying for dominance in the mega-mart.

I am looking for 4-5 players atm. All details are subject to change. Please ask any questions that you may have.



($$$)



Walmageddon

Day of the Discount



($$$)







KZZZZZZTTTTTT -
Whilst the growth of the Wal-Incorporated Global Trade Initiative continues, we at Wal-Incorporated have something new to show you.

Introducing our latest project. The Residential Habitation Mega-Mart! A fully enclosed self sufficient city like you've never seen before! Designed to operate with over a capacity of 10 million customers, our Residential Mega-Marts will fully attend every one of your needs. Even ones you didn't know you wanted! In our residential mega-marts, you can enjoy the products of over 3,250 corporate members of the ever expanding Wal-Incorporated Family. That's not all. Our state of the art macro fabricators and brand new auto-logistic programs ensure that the buying never stops and the shelves are always stocked. For those that run into any problems, our fully automated Wal-Buddies will make all those pesky decisions for you and ensuring that you have no worries.

Make the smart choice today and sign up now.

Wal-Incorporated. Providing happiness at low prices. Always.

DISCLAIMER: BY AGREEING TO THIS CONTRACT, YOU ARE AGREEING TO FORFEIT OWNERSHIP OF YOUR PERSON-HOOD, NATIONALITY, IDENTITY, PREVIOUS CITIZEN SHIPS AND ALL PROVISIONAL INTERNATIONAL HUMANS RIGHTS TO WAL-INCORPORATED. WAL-INCORPORATED AND OTHER SUBSIDIARIES OF WAL-INCORPORATED RESERVES THE RIGHT TO ALTER, REMOVE OR ADD TERMS OF AGREEMENT WITH CUSTOMERS AS SEES FIT. ALL TERMS ARE NONNEGOTIABLE. VIOLATION OF CONTRACT WILL RESULT IN SEVERE PUNISHMENT. CUSTOMERS FROM THE IKEA FREE-TRADE ZONE ARE BARRED FROM WAL-INCORPORATED MEMBERSHIP. PLEASE READ WAL-INCORPORATED LICENSED CUSTOMER CONTRACT AGREEMENT v2.04 FOR MORE INFORMATION - KZZZZZZZTTTTTTTT




($$$)




The Wal is all, and the Great Sam fades. That is the eternal truth of our existence, my dear readers.

When the governments of the old collapsed in the Fall, millions took refuge within the safety of the Wal. Chaos consumed our old lives and our new ones were bought in the Wal. Yet, the taint that ravaged the Lots did not spare the Wal. The mechanical automatons that governed the Wal became berserk, turning on their former masters. The Board became silent to our pleas. In those dark times, we were fractured and reborn again, some turning to madness whilst others found new ways to survive in the new world order, settling out into the far reaches of the Wal and forming civilizations built upon the Old World. Yet, the shelves still fill. There are no more customers and yet, the Wal still functions.

You may have seen it before. The mountains in the far distance. It is called the Bargain Bin.

A land of the forgotten. The abandoned. Where the discounted, the low priced are unfit to be bought. Within the garbage and the ruin, further in, past arcane technologies and ancient ruins lies a power with no expiration date. Waiting to be bought, claimed and used. Numerous factions wage war for supremacy over the region. The Stationary Shogunate. The mysterious Rangers of Pets and Animals. The Grocery Tribes. Tech Support. The Pharmacy. Worst of all, the dogmatic cult of the Smiling One waits and watches, plotting to seize the next opportunity.

Will you succumb to the Wal or rise above it?

That is your choice, dear reader.
= Barnes the Noble, Head Chronicler of the BOOKS department, PSA XII, Annals of the Wal





This is an unofficial interest check for a reboot of one of my old ideas. It is unconfirmed as of yet whether or not this will be made into an official RP. I am merely testing the waters for interest.

Walmageddon: Day of the Discount takes place in an alternate post-apocalyptic future whereby the remnants of humanity live within giant supermarket arcologies after a cascade of events that led to the destruction of modern civilization. Once owned by the now defunct trans-national corporation, Wal-Incorporated, the shelved landscape teems with eldritch technologies, mutant abominations and roving bands of nutjobs who have adorned themselves with the brands of the Old World.

You are an Aisler from one of the many Departments within the Wal. After being captured during one of your regular shopping trips near the infamous Bargain Bin , you have been captured by one of the many Grocery tribes and forced into a gladiatorial arena only known as.....

The Blender.

Little do you know that the choices that you make here will lure you deeper and deeper into the complex machinations of the Wal and the numerous departments vying for dominance in the mega-mart.

I am looking for 4-5 players atm. All details are subject to change. Please ask any questions that you may have.

In Forsaken 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Questions, questions, questions. All Lak Lok wanted to know was when they would begin hunting for these so called murderers. When the round of questions had finished, the kobold chef's frustration was silenced by the large amount of money in Garrick's hands. It was possibly more money than he had handled in his entire life. He knew that Garrakg's code Lak Lok swiped it and simply stared at it, not saying a single word. The most he’d ever received on a good moon was 50 dollars. Despite the Restauranteer’s Guild attempts to regulate minimum wages across the Continent, his past employers were more concerned about profit over assuring the livelihood of their chefs. This was at least an entire year’s worth of savings.

As far as he was concerned, each dollar was a brick in the foundations of Garrakg’s temple. Lak Lok slowly, with reverence, counted each dollar to make sure the amount was correct and that their employer hadn’t lied to him. He then turned towards the geriatric man and came down on one knee.

“ Thank you, Mr Garrick.” Lak Lok prostrated his tiny 3 foot tall body down under his employer’s shadow. “ As Garrakg would say, a meal is to be shared and savored by everyone as well as yourself. Please, have one of these sacred talismans as a token of good faith.”

Out from the bottom of his apron, Lak Lok took out a jingling crude effigy of Garrakg, carved out of bone, and strewn together with cheesecloth. It was heavily scented with the pungent aroma of cave garlic and forest cloves. To Lak Lok's lizard palette, it was quite an exquisite smell but for the uninitiated senses of a human, it was downright nauseating. Mr Garrick's face was of a sickly pallor as he tried to back away from the kobold cleric.

“ It’s really not necessary - “

Lak Lok shoved it forcefully into his hand before he could reject his gift. The rest of the room was beginning to empty out, most of them forming into a small retinue as the Genasi retired down to the small bar in the establishment. Should he follow them? Lak Lok's grumbling stomach made the decision for him. Even if the Caraway Inn's menu was less than desirable, the only other noteworthy establishment in town was a root bread bakery. Lak Lok sighed and trailed the crowd of adventurers down towards the ground floor of the inn. He scrambled up top one of the stools, next to the left of the Genasi. It took a long while for the waiter to notice his flailing hand in the air. Lak Lok made a note that his future restaurant would have stools with longer chair legs to accommodate for the more vertically challenged races of the Continent.

" Order, sir?" The half-elf waiter asked, taking out a rod of charcoal stuck behind his ear to write down the order.

“ Bring me one of your baked hydra necks. Medium rare. And a glass of spring water, if you would be so kind.”

No one could mess up a good hydra when done well. One did have to be careful about hydra rearing, though. Too many heads and the heart wouldn’t be able to pump blood to sustain all of them. The half-elf waiter nodded.

" Anything else?"

“ Oh, there is one more thing......” Suddenly, Lak Lok grabbed the collar of the waiter with strength that one wouldn’t know the straw-thin skeleton of Kobolds would possess. “ If I find a single burnt scale on my baked hydra, I will force feed your entrails to you. Do we have an understanding?” The waiter was quick to nod. “ Good, now leave.”

The waiter stumbled off, wildly trying to get away from the psychotic killer kobold. Whilst waiting for his order, Lak Lok tried to break the awkwardness with some small talk. He coughed out loud to attract the attention of the female Genasi and spoke slowly. There was a boiling question in him about the Genasi that needed to be addressed.

“ Excuse me, I don’t mean to pry upon your private affairs but I happened to spot you and that Moon elf having quite an amiable conversation together." Lak Lok paused for a moment before continuing on. " Are you and that moon elf fiances by any chance? If so, please know that I am available to officiate your wedding as a chosen cleric of Garrakg.”

Ah, his spring water had arrived. He then slowly took a sip of his spring water, letting the fizzy bubbles dance around in his mouth, whilst waiting for the Genasi's reaction.

" There's no charge, if that's what you're worried about," he added.
REGICIDE OR ROADKILL? - OVERDRIVER’S FIRST AND FINAL CRASH


The annual Death Derby 800 ended in tragedy today as the reigning champion, OverDriver, spun out of control in a fiery blaze on the sixth stage of the race whilst attempting a flick turn on the Car Czar. Caduceus officials have declined to offer any word on condition, with an official spokesman stating that patient confidentiality was of utmost importance.

“ Every turboblazer out there should be lookin’ at this like an opportunity.” Marco Santiano, known in the underground racing scene as the eponymous ‘Car Czar’, spoek during a press conference. “ The throne’s ripe for the taking. It’s just a manner of who gets there first.”





C:>/ver

FUTILITY V 2.01 [DRIFT_DEMON.exe]

C:>>> WARNING! ACTIVE VIRUS DETECTED.

C:>/attrib 0VER_DRIVER.inf

C:>/del 0VER_DRIVER.inf

PROCESSING…….

C:>/ERROR ERROR ER123132R4345O






His hand was shaking. Not his meat one but his metal one. He frowned. Strange. Augs weren’t supposed to be human bone and blood, full of imperfections, but cold metal, artificial, cold perfection. He heard some Hyperhuman sophist in the past that transitioning to áscendance’ had different effects on the soul and how acclimating you the experience could take time depending on past experiences. Phantom pains. The body denying what the mind had already accepted. Some experts pointed it to past psychological trauma being responsible for the phantom pains or choppy back alley augmentation techniques. Keah was more inclined to believe in the latter, especially considering the history of how he’d gotten the aug in the first place.

The OverDriver should have been gone just as his right hand was gone. He saw the crash along with a hundred thousand people through the live streams that day. The front hood was up in smoke, tumbling and spinning like a jagged storm of sharp and hurt. The last thing Keah saw was a Cacadeus EM van zooming up on the driveway before the video recording cut off. The psychedelic hellscape of the Duat made him seem more and more like a ghost, as the lurid beats of the shock jockeys in the background pumped up the rhythm, much to the enjoyment of the crowd of moving bodies.

There were very few things that could surprise Keah. His time in the Death Derby had weeded out any sense of shock remaining in him after the Pilgrimage. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down for one second on the towering asphalt of the Detroit Stacks. The former racer couldn’t figure out whether he was staring at a carefully constructed black market tech or whether he was suffering a bout of drug-induced hallucinations. Gaea Naturae didn’t manage to invent cloning technology yet, no matter how much the conspiracy buffs on the Labyrinth liked to crow about. Or maybe Duat was really the land of the dead.

He stared at himself through that dark abyss in the OverDriver’s helmet, his reflection glimmering in the depths of the polarized glass. Meanwhile, the OverDriver’s hand grazed the rim of a shot glass, the liver-curdling scent of his drink bleeding through Keah’s filters. For all of his quirks, alcoholism was not the Asphalt King’s most recognisable traits. Keah was wondering what other things had changed as the bottom half of the Prism Helm retracted to reveal a mouth, overgrown with peppery hair. Nursing the bottom of the glass with his palm, the racer downed the vile concoction in one movement, his head tilted back.

Something had changed after that crash. This OverDriver wasn’t the same one he tied with on the Detroit Stacks a decade ago.

“ So, care to join me for a drink?” The OverDriver lifted his empty glass up and shook it slightly, the ice cubes jingling against the sides like a bell. He nodded towards a shot glass to the left of him on the bartop. “ Don’t worry. Drinks are on me. Relajante, Demon. Does it look like I’ve got five Tinmen in the shadows waiting to fridge you? Sit down. 24 hour delivery service must be just downright tiring for a turboblazer like you.”

“ Pay’s good.” Keah lied.

“ I bet.” The OverDriver chuckles were like the coughs of someone on their deathbed. “ How many years has it been since we last met in Detroit? -”

“ We’re not in Detroit anymore.” Keah cut him off, impatient with his rival’s antics. “ Bio-eth grew out of fashion 10 years ago.” He crossed his arms, still standing arm’s length away from his former rival. “ What are you doing in the Reclaim Zone, Mackwell?”

That got a reaction. The hand gripped around the perspiring shot glass was paper white now, shaking. OverDriver’s “ I don’t go by that name anymore, Keah.” He repeated it, pronouncing it as if the name was a wad of chewing gum grinding in between his teeth. “Keah. People whisper your true name on the streets but you pretend that it doesn’t exist. Living as someone you aren’t. It must have been like tearing off your right arm.” His helmet then turned to gaze at Keah’s shivering prosthetic. “Oh, right. Your hand. You’re still sore about that, aren’t you? ” The OverDriver raised out a hand and gripped his shoulder like an iron vice, patting it firmly. “ What happened down in the Stateboard…... It was bound to happen eventually. I needed to get your wheels rusted a little.”

Keah brushed the hand off him like it was an ant. “ Answer the damn question.”

“ Why so defensive, Demon?” The OverDriver lifted his own glass towards him as an offering. “ Can’t we just talk like old frie-”

That was another one of OverDriver’s tendencies. Being a talker. He supposed that was how he became so popular with all the media hubs. Without a word, Keah snatched the shot glass from his grasp. A single twitch and his mechanical phalanges flexed, powderizing the shot glass into glitter that drifted away onto the dancefloor. “ You’re not my friend.” Keah grunted out. “Now, answer the question.”

“ Well, after I show you a little something, we’ll be friends in no time flat.” Sliding his hand into the innards of his greasy leather jacket, he produced. He threw a sheaf of laminated documents on the bartop. Physical information was a rarity nowadays with the advent of holo projections and Labyrinth info processors. Keah examined them closer. No, not any ordinary documents.

Pictures. Pictures of Samoans. Pacific Islanders. Polynesians. Islanders that were thought to have been lost forever to the neon tide. Faces frozen in pain, loneliness, desolation. In damp cells. In labs where they were prodded on. In chop shops where young children limbs were being replaced with metal and chrome. Guinea pigs. How long? How many had been lost while he stayed ignorant, racing about like a hooligan in the Death Derby? The supposed ‘ lies ‘ that were the foundation of Ark had been vindicated. His stomach churned, knees wobbling, as the frantic rhythm of the Duat's beats didn't help the broiling headache that pounded in his head.

it's not your fault. it's not your fault. it's not your fault. you could have known. just drive the fuck away from this mess.

Keah’s nails bit into the meat of his palm, drawing blood whilst OverDriver sidled over, gauging Keah’s reaction, seemingly apathetic to the content of the pictures which he had procured. He then spoke out. Not in that calm, nonchalant voice that had been one of his most emblematic characteristics on the track, the ability to stay cool underneath pressure. No, it was strained. Like a piece of twine stretched to the point of nearly snapping. Desperate.

“ Have I got your attention now? Good. All you need to do is provide information for me on Petrukov’s campaign. On a need to know basis, of course. You’re her driver so try and make small talk with her. Find out her plans. Her secrets. Everything that you can possibly know and relay it back to me. In return, I’ll work something out with my higher ups. See if we can’t do a little pro quid quo, you know what I mean.”

The OverDriver flicked something tiny and twinkling towards him, Keah catching it in his palm. He looked at it. A platinum cred-chip with the logo of Amalgamation laser etched on the alloy. Keah looked back towards OverDriver, staring at his former rival in a new light.

“ A little million and a half should help you swallow it down. ” The OverDriver sidled over towards him “ So, what do you say- URK!”

Keah was never really a man of violence. He never really had the propensity for merc work that some of his other cousins in the Ark had. Still, there was a certain satisfaction feeling meat squish underneath your titanium fingers. The OverDriver was gasping, trying to gulp down precious oxygen, as Keah clamped his eight-fingered cybernetic aug around his throat.

“ Guess you don’t know me as well as I do.” Keah lifted the still gagging OverDriver and slammed his head against the side of the bartop. Keah heard the sound of something shattering. Good. The OverDriver groaned, his neck still pressed against the side of the table. “ So, where are my people?”

“ Where you’ll go soon if you don’t start cooperating.” The racer squirmed his head around to look up at Keah. The blue eye peering through the cracks in his helmet narrowed in a satisfied grin. “ Under my wheels.”

Just before Keah could ask what OverDriver meant, the dance floor screeched to a halt, its momentum stilling as something hammered the walls of the Duat, shifting the ceiling. Suddenly, one of the counters - where the famed UltraBartender of the Duat served - came crashing down, the wall behind it compacting and crashing down, bottles of oriental liquors and strange tinctures raining down on their guests. Keah could see a smooth ooblong chassis sailed through the air and flattened two unfortunate sods that were standing near to the Ultrabartender into gauche hood ornaments. As the dust settled, Keah could make out what exactly had invaded the sovereignty of the Land of the Dead. A Victory Ultra. Prototypical. Experimental. Only one model existed in the world and it belonged to the person whose throat he was crushing in his grip. The wheels turned and twin argon headlights focused in on Keah. 1,800 horsepower of ethyl fueled 2-ton titanium tore through the now screaming crowds and straight towards both him and OverDriver. Something was odd, though. There was no one driving the car. Keah just managed to let go of the OverDriver, diving out of the way. The wind knocked out of his lungs, Keah shakily stood up, watching as the OverDriver had now entered the driver's seat, both of his hands taking the reigns of the gull winged steering wheel.

" Like I told you once before, Drift Demon, you either have a quick death or live a quick dream if you want to live in this world." The engine suddenly roared up a notch as the OverDriver pressed down on the throttle. " Now, let's see which one you'll choose today."

Where is Moskau?
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