Grimoire Gaming

» ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ

@Mr Rage

Cutter may or may not be enemy #1 for Omega... given that not all of the members have parts that are paid in full... and Cutter, by nature of his work, targets cybernetically enhanced folks.

ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ // cyber-dystopian sandbox

@BrightSteel

Yuria linked it a few posts ago in this thread, but here yah go, mate: OOC

Spectral Voices

Arsenal

<sub>You all know the fucking score
Everybody on the floor
Put your hands where I can see them
We're not playing around
One little move
And you're in the ground

We live on our own set of rules
Take everything and everyone down with you
We are a desperate kind
But this is a ruthless time

When I hit rock bottom
I go looking for friends in the filthiest places
Yeah, yeah
I make ends meet cause I'm a bad bad man
When I hit rock bottom, the party has arrived
We won't be taken alive</sub>

Name

⋙: Alias ID: Arsenal
Current ID: Abigail Ross
Birth ID: Rini Sakurai 桜井 莉仁 (Unknown to Abigail)

Age

⋙: 25

Gender

⋙: Female

Nationality

⋙: Japanese

Occupation

⋙: Abigail — Works as a body modification specialist at a place called The Body Shop in the Lower District. Patrons of the shop come to get anything from a full sleeve tattoos, non-cybernetic piercings and implants, or a regular old run of the mill haircut. Abby primarily does piercings and hair, but has an interest in learning her way around a tattoo gun.

Arsenal — As her alias suggests, Arsenal is the resident gun bunny for the cybernetically enhanced street gang, Omega. The gun wielding street samurai is heavily trained with automatic weapons (spec. in sub machines), heavy weapons, pistols (spec. in semi automatics), long arms (spec. in snipers), as well as urban tracking, gang and street knowledge, and drug running. Arsenal was raised on the streets, and gang affiliation is just as much a part of survival as breathing and eating. In addition to her weapons training and position as a gun-for-hire, Arsenal also deals many of Paradiso’s new world narcotics, with the exception of Todtraum, due to it’s high price. Currently GB and Sturmstaub are their main forms of drug-related income, but the Omega’s have expressed interest in breaking into the Todtraum market.

Place of Residence

⋙: Currently, Arsenal is living out of a makeshift apartment in the Omega’s headquarters — which is in an old abandoned firehouse building located in The Foundry. The entire building, including the garages and all three floors, is owned by the Omega’s. The building was legally purchased by some of the wealthier members of the group when the market value of the ex-municipal building was very low. Many of the offices on the second and third floors have been converted into bedroom-sized apartments in which Omega members are welcome to reside. The gang runs a business front called CyberFix out of the firehouse garages, repairing and augmenting cybernetic enhancements at a sliding scale price, so even the average joe can afford them. Duly note, that you get what you pay for. If you play your cards right, or you know a guy, you might even get a little fix to dull the pain. CyberFix is currently not licensed to do new implantations, only repairs and augments to existing implants.

Cybernetics

⋙: Cyber Eyes — Currently Arsenal only has the most basic of installations, and she got them for cheap in a back alley operation. It was a risky decision, but she survived without infection. The only hang up is that her vision frequently cuts out. She is saving up units to purchase a more legitimate pair of cyber eyes that she will then have augmented at CyberFix with low-light vision, thermographic vision, vision enhancement & magnification, and a datalink communication with her guns for more accurate firing. Arsenal already has the top of the line parts picked out and set aside for these augmentations.

Audio Enhancement — Implants with the capability to filter and dampen sound. These implants have been augmented with spatial recognition software, which is incredibly helpful when Arsenal’s cyber eyes act up.

Wired Reflexes — The nerves and reflexes in Arsenal’s right arm have been cybernetically modified to react faster, with more control and precision than the average human. This is useful in her line of work, as body piercing and the sharp lines of today’s popular hairstyles require the steadiest, most precise hand. The true reason for this enhancement, of course, is to improve her trigger speed and aim.

Bio

⋙: If the world was a kind and nurturing place, and if the universe was in favor of Abigail Ross, she would have been born and raised as the heiress of Sakurai Industries — the paragon of hovercraft technology, founded by one of the most affluent families in Diamond Heights. Neither this new world, nor Shiro and Misa Sakurai, were kind and nurturing, however. When the Sakurai’s brought their firstborn daughter into the world, they discovered rather quickly that Rini Sakurai was born blind. The child was broken, imperfect, and seen as wholly unfit to be the heir of the prestigious Sakurai Industries. She was discarded to a children's home of ill repute in the dead of the night, with a new name and no ties to her affluent family. The Sakurai’s paid the Geiger Corporation handsomely to keep the secret of their daughter hidden so deep within the Databahn, that even Rini herself could not figure out who she was.

So began the unfortunate tale of the girl that was renamed Abigail Ross. Young Abby grew up on the streets blind, hungry and, for the most part, alone. She learned at an early age that you had to find people to call your own if you wanted to survive. Abigail found those people at the fresh age of six. Her street smarts and distinctly Japanese heritage made her a target for early recruitment into the race based street gang, Para-kai. Abby’s blindness and soft, innocent appearing features made her the perfect drug mule. Abigail was tasked with carrying loads of illegal substances in her backpack and transporting them to designated locations throughout Paradiso in exchange for a place to stay, food in her stomach, and the protection of the Para-kai family.

Once Abigail had reached her early teens, feigning innocence began to be too difficult. There wasn’t anything real left for her to draw from, the streets of Paradiso had corrupted her. Older now, she had a personal goal — to save up enough to afford a pair of cyber eyes. More than anything, she had wanted to see this ugly world for what it truly was, and she wanted to feel whole. Maybe then, she could discover where she had come from. Abigail moved from being just a mere mule, to being a full on distributor and dealer of new world narcotics. She also began to turn tricks.

By age eighteen, Abigail had gathered enough units to afford her operation. It was a back alley bargain, illicit and unsafe, but that didn’t matter to the eager young adult. She wanted this, or so she thought. When Abigail returned to the Para-kai safehouse with her new vision enhancements... they rejected her, and revoked their protection. This was the first time that Abigail experienced the hatred of ‘cyber scum’ firsthand. It burned her, and she ran.

Being on her own now, Abigail continued to do what she knew in order to survive. She turned more tricks, dealt more drugs, and picked up a few bad habits of her own. Now that her protection was in her own hands, she began to acquire weapons, and she learned how to use them. It was during one of her self-appointed missions to take out a group of anti-cyber fleshbags when she ran into Shadowblade — a member of Omega, a gang of cybernetically enhanced individuals who resist “high” society’s purist hatred of the enhanced people, by any means necessary. Shadowblade suggested that Omega could use someone with her skills in their arsenal. And so, Arsenal she became.

Omega is more than a gang, it’s a social movement. The group was founded in the interest of gathering like-minded cybernetically enhanced persons, and proving to Paradiso that they were still human, that they were equals. The Omega mark — which most members have inked or implanted on their body — consists of overlapped omega and lambda characters, symbolising the group’s ideals. Ohm (Ω), the SI unit of electrical resistance, represents a gang of spirited opposition. Lambda (Λ), the electrochemical notation of equivalent conductance, represents a gang of equals. As do most ideals, those of Omega have become twisted over time. Two radical Omega factions have formed, who often fight amongst themselves — those who merely want equality and representation, and those who want the blood of anyone who stands in the way of the superior, Enhanced beings that the Omega are.

_{FC: Omi of exist†trace}

» ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ

Arsenal

<sub>You all know the fucking score
Everybody on the floor
Put your hands where I can see them
We're not playing around
One little move
And you're in the ground

We live on our own set of rules
Take everything and everyone down with you
We are a desperate kind
But this is a ruthless time

When I hit rock bottom
I go looking for friends in the filthiest places
Yeah, yeah
I make ends meet cause I'm a bad bad man
When I hit rock bottom, the party has arrived
We won't be taken alive</sub>

Name

⋙: Alias ID: Arsenal
Current ID: Abigail Ross
Birth ID: Rini Sakurai 桜井 莉仁 (Unknown to Abigail)

Age

⋙: 25

Gender

⋙: Female

Nationality

⋙: Japanese

Occupation

⋙: Abigail — Works as a body modification specialist at a place called The Body Shop in the Lower District. Patrons of the shop come to get anything from a full sleeve tattoos, non-cybernetic piercings and implants, or a regular old run of the mill haircut. Abby primarily does piercings and hair, but has an interest in learning her way around a tattoo gun.

Arsenal — As her alias suggests, Arsenal is the resident gun bunny for the cybernetically enhanced street gang, Omega. The gun wielding street samurai is heavily trained with automatic weapons (spec. in sub machines), heavy weapons, pistols (spec. in semi automatics), long arms (spec. in snipers), as well as urban tracking, gang and street knowledge, and drug running. Arsenal was raised on the streets, and gang affiliation is just as much a part of survival as breathing and eating. In addition to her weapons training and position as a gun-for-hire, Arsenal also deals many of Paradiso’s new world narcotics, with the exception of Todtraum, due to it’s high price. Currently GB and Sturmstaub are their main forms of drug-related income, but the Omega’s have expressed interest in breaking into the Todtraum market.

Place of Residence

⋙: Currently, Arsenal is living out of a makeshift apartment in the Omega’s headquarters — which is in an old abandoned firehouse building located in The Foundry. The entire building, including the garages and all three floors, is owned by the Omega’s. The building was legally purchased by some of the wealthier members of the group when the market value of the ex-municipal building was very low. Many of the offices on the second and third floors have been converted into bedroom-sized apartments in which Omega members are welcome to reside. The gang runs a business front called CyberFix out of the firehouse garages, repairing and augmenting cybernetic enhancements at a sliding scale price, so even the average joe can afford them. Duly note, that you get what you pay for. If you play your cards right, or you know a guy, you might even get a little fix to dull the pain. CyberFix is currently not licensed to do new implantations, only repairs and augments to existing implants.

Cybernetics

⋙: Cyber Eyes — Currently Arsenal only has the most basic of installations, and she got them for cheap in a back alley operation. It was a risky decision, but she survived without infection. The only hang up is that her vision frequently cuts out. She is saving up units to purchase a more legitimate pair of cyber eyes that she will then have augmented at CyberFix with low-light vision, thermographic vision, vision enhancement & magnification, and a datalink communication with her guns for more accurate firing. Arsenal already has the top of the line parts picked out and set aside for these augmentations.

Audio Enhancement — Implants with the capability to filter and dampen sound. These implants have been augmented with spatial recognition software, which is incredibly helpful when Arsenal’s cyber eyes act up.

Wired Reflexes — The nerves and reflexes in Arsenal’s right arm have been cybernetically modified to react faster, with more control and precision than the average human. This is useful in her line of work, as body piercing and the sharp lines of today’s popular hairstyles require the steadiest, most precise hand. The true reason for this enhancement, of course, is to improve her trigger speed and aim.

Bio

⋙: If the world was a kind and nurturing place, and if the universe was in favor of Abigail Ross, she would have been born and raised as the heiress of Sakurai Industries — the paragon of hovercraft technology, founded by one of the most affluent families in Diamond Heights. Neither this new world, nor Shiro and Misa Sakurai, were kind and nurturing, however. When the Sakurai’s brought their firstborn daughter into the world, they discovered rather quickly that Rini Sakurai was born blind. The child was broken, imperfect, and seen as wholly unfit to be the heir of the prestigious Sakurai Industries. She was discarded to a children's home of ill repute in the dead of the night, with a new name and no ties to her affluent family. The Sakurai’s paid the Geiger Corporation handsomely to keep the secret of their daughter hidden so deep within the Databahn, that even Rini herself could not figure out who she was.

So began the unfortunate tale of the girl that was renamed Abigail Ross. Young Abby grew up on the streets blind, hungry and, for the most part, alone. She learned at an early age that you had to find people to call your own if you wanted to survive. Abigail found those people at the fresh age of six. Her street smarts and distinctly Japanese heritage made her a target for early recruitment into the race based street gang, Para-kai. Abby’s blindness and soft, innocent appearing features made her the perfect drug mule. Abigail was tasked with carrying loads of illegal substances in her backpack and transporting them to designated locations throughout Paradiso in exchange for a place to stay, food in her stomach, and the protection of the Para-kai family.

Once Abigail had reached her early teens, feigning innocence began to be too difficult. There wasn’t anything real left for her to draw from, the streets of Paradiso had corrupted her. Older now, she had a personal goal — to save up enough to afford a pair of cyber eyes. More than anything, she had wanted to see this ugly world for what it truly was, and she wanted to feel whole. Maybe then, she could discover where she had come from. Abigail moved from being just a mere mule, to being a full on distributor and dealer of new world narcotics. She also began to turn tricks.

By age eighteen, Abigail had gathered enough units to afford her operation. It was a back alley bargain, illicit and unsafe, but that didn’t matter to the eager young adult. She wanted this, or so she thought. When Abigail returned to the Para-kai safehouse with her new vision enhancements... they rejected her, and revoked their protection. This was the first time that Abigail experienced the hatred of ‘cyber scum’ firsthand. It burned her, and she ran.

Being on her own now, Abigail continued to do what she knew in order to survive. She turned more tricks, dealt more drugs, and picked up a few bad habits of her own. Now that her protection was in her own hands, she began to acquire weapons, and she learned how to use them. It was during one of her self-appointed missions to take out a group of anti-cyber fleshbags when she ran into Shadowblade — a member of Omega, a gang of cybernetically enhanced individuals who resist “high” society’s purist hatred of the enhanced people, by any means necessary. Shadowblade suggested that Omega could use someone with her skills in their arsenal. And so, Arsenal she became.

Omega is more than a gang, it’s a social movement. The group was founded in the interest of gathering like-minded cybernetically enhanced persons, and proving to Paradiso that they were still human, that they were equals. The Omega mark — which most members have inked or implanted on their body — consists of overlapped omega and lambda characters, symbolising the group’s ideals. Ohm (Ω), the SI unit of electrical resistance, represents a gang of spirited opposition. Lambda (Λ), the electrochemical notation of equivalent conductance, represents a gang of equals. As do most ideals, those of Omega have become twisted over time. Two radical Omega factions have formed, who often fight amongst themselves — those who merely want equality and representation, and those who want the blood of anyone who stands in the way of the superior, Enhanced beings that the Omega are.

_{FC: Omi of exist†trace}

» ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ

Arsenal

<sub>You all know the fucking score
Everybody on the floor
Put your hands where I can see them
We're not playing around
One little move
And you're in the ground

We live on our own set of rules
Take everything and everyone down with you
We are a desperate kind
But this is a ruthless time

When I hit rock bottom
I go looking for friends in the filthiest places
Yeah, yeah
I make ends meet cause I'm a bad bad man
When I hit rock bottom, the party has arrived
We won't be taken alive</sub>

Name

⋙: Alias ID: Arsenal
Current ID: Abigail Ross
Birth ID: Rini Sakurai 桜井 莉仁 (Unknown to Abigail)

Age

⋙: 25

Gender

⋙: Female

Nationality

⋙: Japanese

Occupation

⋙: Abigail — Works as a body modification specialist at a place called The Body Shop in the Lower District. Patrons of the shop come to get anything from a full sleeve tattoos, non-cybernetic piercings and implants, or a regular old run of the mill haircut. Abby primarily does piercings and hair, but has an interest in learning her way around a tattoo gun.

Arsenal — As her alias suggests, Arsenal is the resident gun bunny for the cybernetically enhanced street gang, Omega. The gun wielding street samurai is heavily trained with automatic weapons (spec. in sub machines), heavy weapons, pistols (spec. in semi automatics), long arms (spec. in snipers), as well as urban tracking, gang and street knowledge, and drug running. Arsenal was raised on the streets, and gang affiliation is just as much a part of survival as breathing and eating. In addition to her weapons training and position as a gun-for-hire, Arsenal also deals many of Paradiso’s new world narcotics, with the exception of Todtraum, due to it’s high price. Currently GB and Sturmstaub are their main forms of drug-related income, but the Omega’s have expressed interest in breaking into the Todtraum market.

Place of Residence

⋙: Currently, Arsenal is living out of a makeshift apartment in the Omega’s headquarters — which is in an old abandoned firehouse building located in The Foundry. The entire building, including the garages and all three floors, is owned by the Omega’s. The building was legally purchased by some of the wealthier members of the group when the market value of the ex-municipal building was very low. Many of the offices on the second and third floors have been converted into bedroom-sized apartments in which Omega members are welcome to reside. The gang runs a business front called CyberFix out of the firehouse garages, repairing and augmenting cybernetic enhancements at a sliding scale price, so even the average joe can afford them. Duly note, that you get what you pay for. If you play your cards right, or you know a guy, you might even get a little fix to dull the pain. CyberFix is currently not licensed to do new implantations, only repairs and augments to existing implants.

Cybernetics

⋙: Cyber Eyes — Currently Arsenal only has the most basic of installations, and she got them for cheap in a back alley operation. It was a risky decision, but she survived without infection. The only hang up is that her vision frequently cuts out. She is saving up units to purchase a more legitimate pair of cyber eyes that she will then have augmented at CyberFix with low-light vision, thermographic vision, vision enhancement & magnification, and a datalink communication with her guns for more accurate firing. Arsenal already has the top of the line parts picked out and set aside for these augmentations.

Audio Enhancement — Implants with the capability to filter and dampen sound. These implants have been augmented with spatial recognition software, which is incredibly helpful when Arsenal’s cyber eyes act up.

Wired Reflexes — The nerves and reflexes in Arsenal’s right arm have been cybernetically modified to react faster, with more control and precision than the average human. This is useful in her line of work, as body piercing and the sharp lines of today’s popular hairstyles require the steadiest, most precise hand. The true reason for this enhancement, of course, is to improve her trigger speed and aim.

Bio

⋙: If the world was a kind and nurturing place, and if the universe was in favor of Abigail Ross, she would have been born and raised as the heiress of Sakurai Industries — the paragon of hovercraft technology, founded by one of the most affluent families in Diamond Heights. Neither this new world, nor Shiro and Misa Sakurai, were kind and nurturing, however. When the Sakurai’s brought their firstborn daughter into the world, they discovered rather quickly that Rini Sakurai was born blind. The child was broken, imperfect, and seen as wholly unfit to be the heir of the prestigious Sakurai Industries. She was discarded to a children's home of ill repute in the dead of the night, with a new name and no ties to her affluent family. The Sakurai’s paid the Geiger Corporation handsomely to keep the secret of their daughter hidden so deep within the Databahn, that even Rini herself could not figure out who she was.

So began the unfortunate tale of the girl that was renamed Abigail Ross. Young Abby grew up on the streets blind, hungry and, for the most part, alone. She learned at an early age that you had to find people to call your own if you wanted to survive. Abigail found those people at the fresh age of six. Her street smarts and distinctly Japanese heritage made her a target for early recruitment into the race based street gang, Para-kai. Abby’s blindness and soft, innocent appearing features made her the perfect drug mule. Abigail was tasked with carrying loads of illegal substances in her backpack and transporting them to designated locations throughout Paradiso in exchange for a place to stay, food in her stomach, and the protection of the Para-kai family.

Once Abigail had reached her early teens, feigning innocence began to be too difficult. There wasn’t anything real left for her to draw from, the streets of Paradiso had corrupted her. Older now, she had a personal goal — to save up enough to afford a pair of cyber eyes. More than anything, she had wanted to see this ugly world for what it truly was, and she wanted to feel whole. Maybe then, she could discover where she had come from. Abigail moved from being just a mere mule, to being a full on distributor and dealer of new world narcotics. She also began to turn tricks.

By age eighteen, Abigail had gathered enough units to afford her operation. It was a back alley bargain, illicit and unsafe, but that didn’t matter to the eager young adult. She wanted this, or so she thought. When Abigail returned to the Para-kai safehouse with her new vision enhancements... they rejected her, and revoked their protection. This was the first time that Abigail experienced the hatred of ‘cyber scum’ firsthand. It burned her, and she ran.

Being on her own now, Abigail continued to do what she knew in order to survive. She turned more tricks, dealt more drugs, and picked up a few bad habits of her own. Now that her protection was in her own hands, she began to acquire weapons, and she learned how to use them. It was during one of her self-appointed missions to take out a group of anti-cyber fleshbags when she ran into Shadowblade — a member of Omega, a gang of cybernetically enhanced individuals who resist “high” society’s purist hatred of the enhanced people, by any means necessary. Shadowblade suggested that Omega could use someone with her skills in their arsenal. And so, Arsenal she became.

Omega is more than a gang, it’s a social movement. The group was founded in the interest of gathering like-minded cybernetically enhanced persons, and proving to Paradiso that they were still human, that they were equals. The Omega mark — which most members have inked or implanted on their body — consists of overlapped omega and lambda characters, symbolising the group’s ideals. Ohm (Ω), the SI unit of electrical resistance, represents a gang of spirited opposition. Lambda (Λ), the electrochemical notation of equivalent conductance, represents a gang of equals. As do most ideals, those of Omega have become twisted over time. Two radical Omega factions have formed, who often fight amongst themselves — those who merely want equality and representation, and those who want the blood of anyone who stands in the way of the superior, Enhanced beings that the Omega are.

_{FC: Omi of exist†trace}

@Yuria @0 Azzy 0
She's here, mates.

ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ // cyber-dystopian sandbox

Now that I've lurked on the idea for 24 hours, I'm posting official interest. Going to revive an old Shadowrun character. ^_^

Endeavour Records (Always Open)

^{Featuring: Sin @Lovely Complex}

A dark gray Kia Forte pulled into the pickup and drop off circle of the Philadelphia International Airport. Lucas tapped the Uber app on his phone, which was mounted to the dash, and indicated that he had picked up his fare. Luke pulled the lever to pop the trunk, where there was just enough space for his passenger to place his luggage. After a few moments, the trunk shut, and an elderly man opened the door to sit in the back.

The man settled into his seat with an exhausted sounding groan. Lucas checked in the rearview mirror, meeting his gaze. As usual, Luke started conversation by confirming the fare’s destination. This one must be pretty well-off, based on where he was headed. “The Rittenhouse, right?”

“That’s the one.” The old man nodded thoughtfully. He looked around the interior of the vehicle, undoubtably noticing the endless boxes of shit Lucas had packed in there.

“Sorry about that, I’m in the middle of moving.“ Lucas offered a clarifying apology. He was, in fact, still getting his new life together. Most of the basics were already in his apartment, but his vehicle currently held the necessities. Namely, his records and his guitars. The old dude was thumbing through the records curiously.

“Not bad taste for a youngin’, they certainly don’t make music like they used to.”

“Tell me about it.”

The man paused in his flipping and gave a breathy laugh. He tapped the record cover with an arthritis-knotted knuckle. “I met her once… Joan.”

“You met Joan Jett?”

“Well it ain’t that hard to believe. She’s from here, and I’m old.” Another breathy chuckle escaped his lips. He coughed, a smokers cough, as Luke well-recognized. The man rustled in his pocket and pulled out a fancy tin of cigarettes and an even classier metal lighter. “Would you mind?

“No,” The man was ancient, probably rich, and he’d met Joan Jett, he could do whatever he damn-well pleased. He didn’t need to ask Luke for permission. Lucas reached into the cubby hole by his knee and pulled out a much less fancy pack of cigarettes and his own classless plastic red lighter. “would you?”

“Cheers!” The old man said jovially to the reflection of Luke's eyes in the rearview as he lit up. The pair smoked silently for a few moments as Lucas navigated the painful downtown Philly traffic. “Judging by the accent, I’d place you as a Jersey native.”

Lucas smiled brightly in the mirror. “Damn straight,” Luke replied and they both laughed.

“Why’d you come here?”

“Needed a fresh start for my music.”

“Ahh, a musician. That makes sense.” The old man said and patted the box of records for emphasis.

“Yeah, I just signed with a record label too. That’s why I’m moving.”

“That’s fantastic, son.” He replied, arching his bushy gray eyebrows in surprise. Lucas parallel parked in front of the hotel that the man would be staying at. The younger man turned to face his passenger and offered a rare, warm smile to the elder. This prompted the man to ask Luke a question. “What’s your name?”

“Lucas Piccoli, sir.”

“Make me a promise, Lucas.”

Luke raised his own eyebrows now, hesitantly nodding in response.

“Stay away from the hard drugs, we’ve lost too many legends to ‘em.”

“Absolutely.” Lucas agreed quickly and completely. “And what was your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The old man said with a smile and then exited the car. He retrieved his suitcase from the trunk and came around to the passenger side window. Bending down slightly, he met Luke’s gaze again. “Good luck, kid,” he said before tapping his hand on the door lightly, and then turning to walk away.

Lucas watched as the mysterious old man faded into the entrance of the luxury hotel. The entire drive back to his new apartment, Luke pondered who the hell that man might have been. He was an enigma. Lucas didn’t recognize him, but he had this sneaking suspicion that he was someone important. The whole experience left him feeling surprisingly uplifted and inspired.

Upon arriving home, Lucas parked his car in the back of the Endeavour apartment building and began to unload his things. He strapped a guitar case over his shoulders and hoisted the heavy box of records in his arms. Luke had to hipcheck the car door closed, and then he headed upstairs to his new abode.

There was a sign on his door, informing him of a meeting at the bar next door. Lucas entered his apartment and set his records on the cluttered counter top. The place was still a shitshow of boxes and random moving crap. He hadn’t yet had the time to organize and, Lucas being who he was, he would probably never make the time to do so. Luke checked the time on his phone, to see how long he had until this supposed meeting.

No time, apparently. Negative time, actually. He was late. The short punk hustled down the steps and towards the bar. By the time Lucas slid in through the doors as quiet and pale as a ghost, Mitch was halfway through whatever speech he was giving. Very inspiring stuff.

There were… a lot of people in this room. Luke immediately took to leaning against the back wall with his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans. Lucas then did what Lucas did best: people watch. He didn’t see any faces besides Mitchell that he recognized, with the exception of one. Was that redhead that one famous bitchy pop star... Tarika, was it? Jesus Christ, maybe he’d made a mistake signing with this label. She was one hundred percent not in his scene.

Luke was supposed to be on the lookout for potential bandmates. Scanning the crowd, he was less than impressed with people based on face value alone. Of course, looks didn’t equate to talent, but sometimes you could tell that someone runs in the same crowd as you by their style. Perhaps someone would come to him if he just… waited back here. The slight scowl on his face and leather jacket did wonders in making him look friendly and approachable.

As if on cue, a loud slam sounded beside him as the door he himself had just come through swung open. In walked a badass looking chick with some kind of skunk hair thing going on. Lucas could dig it, he was into switching up his own hair on occasion. He barely looked her way out of the corner of his eye, but he was assessing her nonetheless. She noticed.

“Hey shortstuff.”

Slammed - The Sunshine Diner

^{Collab with @Universorum}

---

---

Featuring: Lenny . Rin . Wesley

---

---

Brakes squealed to a halt before a very flustered blonde slammed her vehicle into park. Kathryn Zabrecky — Rin, as she preferred to be known — looked out of the passenger side window to confirm that this was the correct address. Based on appearances and occupation alone, she didn’t expect Lenny to have the nicest of places… but this apartment was little more than a dismal shack. The windows were furnished not with blinds, but with blanket-like curtains, knowing Lenny they probably were actually just blankets. One of them appeared to have a huge crack in it, which was patched up with duct tape.

“Im here” Rin tapped out the text on her iPhone and set it on the dash after checking the time. Good ol’ Lenny boy needed to hurry his ass up, or this bus was leaving. Flipping the visor down, Rin checked her appearance in the little mirror. Finding it not quite up to standards, she rustled in her tiedyed hobo sling purse and retrieved the makeup bag that she was seeking. Rin touched up her wings with jet black liquid liner and adjusted her falsies, blending them in with her natural lashes using a bit of mascara.

There was a knock on the passenger side window and Rin looked over from her coiffing. Outside stood a man wearing a wildly colorful Grateful Dead shirt, his long ombre dyed locks hanging as he bent his face down to grin in the window. Rin rolled her eyes and unlocked the door for him, flipping her visor back up and putting away her makeup.

When the door opened, Rin was assaulted with the scent of freshly blazed reefer. She scrunched up her nose and looked over at him with disgust. “Seriously?”

“What?” Lenny replied innocently, taking a seat and shutting the door behind him.

”You’re high right now.” She accused.

“Yeah, so, I thought you were down, party girl? I’ve seen you travel on the waves of the creatrix before.” Leonard gestured as he spoke, moving his hand in front of his face and towards her as if it were a dolphin cutting through waves. “Whoosh…”

Rin stared blankly at him for a moment. She blinked and then shook her head while speaking, “At raves… not right before work.” Lenny shrugged and she once again rolled her eyes. “Whatever, not my problem. We gotta go.

The car lurched from its stationary position as Rin pressed the gas. She wasn’t the best driver, this ride would be anything but smooth for her stoned passenger. Beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to free rides in times of crisis so, if he was smart, he would keep quiet. Lenny isn’t smart, but he did stay quiet as he peacefully stared out the window at the passing sights.

“So what happened to your car anyway?”

“Dunno…” Lenny said, breaking his attention from the window to look over at the petite driver. “Just busted, I guess.”

The remainder of the drive went rather uneventfully. Rin didn’t hit anyone, so there was that going for them. After about a 10 minute commute, they pulled into one of the employee parking spots of the Sunshine Diner and headed into work together. They came in through the front door of the restaurant that was not yet open, but minutes from being so. What a pair they were, Lenny looking every part the southern californian hippy stoner, and Rin looking like she just stepped out of one of those barely legal porn videos.

Kathryn sashayed over to the employee coat closet to hang up her purse. She wasn't even closed to being properly dressed for work, but that was just Rin’s style. She wore a green plaid schoolgirl skirt that was hiked up her waist so that the hem sat just below her ass. Rin also sported a low cut black top, knee high socks, and chunky platforms that had metal spikes in the heels. Her platinum blonde hair was thick with extensions and tied up into semi pigtails with black ribbons.

Lenny passed by Cooper and nodded his head towards him. “Sup, my brother,” Leonard said as he made his way back to the kitchen.

As soon as Lenny’s voice entered his ears, Wesley perked up. The relief was here, the cavalry, the one who would free him from his banishment to the godforsaken task of getting the onions ready for the day. Spinning on his heel and shutting off the music that he was listening to, Wesley walked over to Lenny and stood in front of him. “Hey, dude, Dustin wants you to finish up cuttin’ those onions, yeah? I need to be relieved so I can do… y’know, managerial stuff. Dusty can’t, he’s indisposed in his office with the new girl. It’s like half done, so I believe in you. Just don’t cut yourself.” Wesley explained, guiding Lenny over to the pile of onions that he’d been chopping. “You got this, right?”

“Aww, really?” Lenny looked thoroughly displeased with this particular job. He was a dishwasher and occasional table busser, he was not food prep. That being said, nothing was ever as it seemed behind the scenes at the Sunshine Diner. “I hate doing onions, dude. Shit always makes me cry.”

As he spoke, Lenny eyes were already starting to water from the odor of fresh cut onions from Wesley’s efforts. Complaining aside, he walked over to the chopping station. Lenny turned around and opened a deep kitchen utensil drawer. He withdrew a pair of chunky plastic goggles that were supposed to be used when he was dealing with the harsh cleaning chemicals. They worked just as well as evil onion fume guards. Leonard snapped the rubber strap of the goggles over his wild mane of hair and shot Wes a thumbs up. “I got you though, man. I got this.”

“You’re the man, I swear I’ll make this up to you.” Wesley promised, before ducking out of the kitchen, and turning to escape and step outside for an early morning smoke break, but instead found himself looking at the resident eye candy, Rin. “Y’know, Rin, seeing you instantly makes the day brighter. Might not have gotten to watch the show I wanted to, but hey, at least I get to see my favorite blonde girl.”

“Your favorite. Is that so, curly q?” Rin smiled teasingly as she tied a waitress apron around her waist. “Hey aren’t you and the stoner and the loiterer in a band or something?”

“Yeah, totally. My favorite, from the bottom to the top.” Wesley explained to her, grinning and giving a wink as she wrapped the apron around herself, before he nodded and took the chance to advertise himself. “Yeah, with my little brother. We’ve gone through a bunch of different names, but I finally decided on one: The Lone Rangers. I think that’s the one we’re gonna get found and famous with. It really rolls off the tongue, don’t you think?”

“That’s uh… hmm. That’s certainly a name.” The youthful looking girl slid a guest check book and a few pens in her apron. She then went to adjusting the ribbons on her pigtails. Looking cute meant bigger tips, and bigger tips meant more fun for LA nights spent in clubs she certainly wasn’t old enough to be getting into. “Anyway, I bring it up because I’m curious as to why I had to be Lenny’s knight and shining armor this morning. Aren’t you guys, like, bros or whatever?”

“Uhhh, I slept through the text messages. I was fucked up last night, a little high, a little drunk. Still am, to an extent. See, I’ve learned through my years, that the only way to keep yourself from getting hungover is to never stop being drunk and always keep yourself rollin’ on the high. And yes, it’s a fantastic name, thank you very much.”

“Well, something happened with his car. You should apologize to him, poor thing was like a helpless child, I’m amazed that he manages to make it to work most days. He was so high… something about the riding a creatrix. Must be a new drug or something, I don’t know.” Rin turned her eyes up to meet his spring green gaze and smiled, “So, The Lone Rangers. Do you have any gigs coming up?”

At this, Wes frowned with clear disappointment. “Well… No, not really. We’ve played a couple here and there, but it’s not that easy to get them. It’s kind of hard to get big, if you aren’t already from a famous family? The music scene isn’t what it was in the 80s, I guess. It looks easy in the documentaries about the Who and Aerosmith and shit, but this is impossible.”

“That’s a shame, I’d like to see what you boys get up to when you’re not under the roof of the glorious Sunshine Diner. Aspiring rockstars and all that… kinda hot.” The blonde offered him a crooked smirk and turned to strut over to the front desk and open her register.

“What, I ain’t hot enough on my own?” Wesley complained as he watched her walk away. He brushed one of the fallen curls out of his eyes and shook his head, “fine, fine, whatever. I won’t ask you out after work. I’ll wait until I have a gig to bring you to.”

The register drawer shut with a comical ka-ching and Rin looked up at him with an eyebrow arched. Was that him trying to ask her out? It wasn’t smooth at all, but strangely enough, it was working. “Ask me out? After work?” Rin inquired with her eyebrow still cocked. That crooked smirk returned.

“Yes, I might have had something in mind — but now I know the rules, I have to wait until I’m on the path of stardom and riches, then and only then, can I ask Rin out on a date. Luckily for me, though, rules are made to be broken —” Wesley shot Rin his own little smirk, “— wanna go out after work?”

“Well, I have cosmetology class until 9. But I suppose I could pencil in a few hours after that. You know, for the future rockstar.”

Endeavour Records (Always Open)

That's where I live, small world. XD

Endeavour Records (Always Open)

2:00 AM The day before he needed to arrive in Philly. A motel in Monroeville.

@Erklings25

As in the Monroeville, PA near Pittsburgh?