Andreyich
Varshanka
World Traveler
Mole
Guardian Angel Haruki
Izurich
Dion
Ruiner
clanjos
Remram
Neon-York is quite the sight. Three massive layers of increasingly chromed-up architecture stacked on top of each other like one of the pyramids of old and surely a hundred thousand times their size. Hovercars and trains zip through skylanes and tubes, and all is lit by neon lights and holographic images beyond your wildest imagination, and some even wilder than that.
"New here, friend? It's quite the sight isn't it? You won't find a place this neon-drenched in the whole wide world and beyond. Yes, Neon-York, good ol' New-York, the megacity where the Bits flow free and rich, if you've got the know-how and/or/xor the guts for it. 's not for everyone, I know, I know. But there's a life to be had here, in the Undercity megaplexes or the deep dark corners of the Extranet, or, who knows, in the highest spires of the upper city, eh? With whatever soulless things lurk there..."
The man scowls and you notice the chromed scarlines running across his face. Quite the figure himself, come to think of it. Seems like this city truly takes its toll on people. And he must have some tall tales to tell.
"The ozone stench 's one you get used to I suppose, but do let me tell you one thing: you better watch yourself, or you will end up in someone else's story here, hah! And not all have a happy ending, if you get what I'm saying. And I do say. Hmmhmmhh. Now, how 'bout a flavor-stick, eh? On the house... Where was I?"
"New here, friend? It's quite the sight isn't it? You won't find a place this neon-drenched in the whole wide world and beyond. Yes, Neon-York, good ol' New-York, the megacity where the Bits flow free and rich, if you've got the know-how and/or/xor the guts for it. 's not for everyone, I know, I know. But there's a life to be had here, in the Undercity megaplexes or the deep dark corners of the Extranet, or, who knows, in the highest spires of the upper city, eh? With whatever soulless things lurk there..."
The man scowls and you notice the chromed scarlines running across his face. Quite the figure himself, come to think of it. Seems like this city truly takes its toll on people. And he must have some tall tales to tell.
"The ozone stench 's one you get used to I suppose, but do let me tell you one thing: you better watch yourself, or you will end up in someone else's story here, hah! And not all have a happy ending, if you get what I'm saying. And I do say. Hmmhmmhh. Now, how 'bout a flavor-stick, eh? On the house... Where was I?"
Prologue: in which They find out who they are...
@Eviledd1984 Ben's Office, June 12th 2177, 12:27, tick... tock...
Stefania wiped her tears with the tissues Ben had offered her. "There was a man," she began, her voice as shaky as her darting eyes. No matter how often people rehearsed what they'd say in their minds, when the moment of questioning was there, the emotions always came, and won. "Tall, wearing a slick green coat, watching from a distance. Thought he was selling flavor-sticks at first, but... I can't remember his face. It's like... there's like a static there, in my mind." She looked at Ben, confusion and sadness clouding her eyes. "Mary from down the road was there too. She was near the fountain. Maybe she could have seen something when I was putting the picnic basket away. And then, there's the park's security system. I tried to ask for access, but they never let me see, not without the permission of the authorities, and..." Her voice lowered to a mere whisper now. "They don't want them involved in this. I don't know, but I just have a feeling the Company board doesn't want what's happened to get out." She paused, looking at Ben with a mix of desperation and hope. "Please, find my son. I don't know who else to turn to."
When Ben finally left his office that day, his mind raced. He pocketed his notebook with the photo of Alexander before it got wet from the city's seemingly perpetual condensation-rains. Now then, what to think of it all, and which of the leads to investigate? Time would be of the essence here...
@KazAlkemi Downtown, June 12th 2177, 14:59, tick... tock...
Downtown was every bit as literal as it was figurative here in Neon-York. The lower city may technically be the 'first' level of the megacity, but within it, it may as well have been hundreds. Layers upon layers of tower blocks stacked upon each other, with overpasses linking each layer together like cobwebs. Suspended in between were floating markets, squares and parks, data lines, and skycar speedways. Holo-ads and extranet graffiti floated wherever there was any space left. And in the midst of it all were the humans. A lot of them too. A writhing mass of desires, fears, dreams, nightmares, processing, shouting, loving, and, above all: crime.
Zain's PID buzzed with a new notification. He already knew the deal: boss had something to say, no compliments. "You're late on your bounties again, Anders! You know that's gonna cost ya." Remi (affectionately 'Ratface') Rodriguez' tone wasn't lost on Zain. Not even his cheap cologne could mask that sourness. "You’re lucky I keep you around with the way you blow your bits, boy. But listen, I got some more chores, perfect for someone of your... abilities. Got a shady junkie that someone wants taken care of, likes playing flavor-stick seller to kids, currently hiding out at the Midnight Edge Caf-shop I hear. Also got a scrap dealer known as Sprocket. Been selling suspicious tech, from your own neighborhood too, what are the odds. And I haven't heard from Vex for some time, getting worried here, her bounty-timer's way overdue. Now pick one and get a move on." The click came before Zain could even respond. That's Remy for you. Millisecs are Bits too, after all, and Zain's bounty-timer had started ticking once again...
@AwesomeZero5 The Conga Exchange Nightclub, June 12th 2177, 16:16, tick... tock...
Night becomes relative when the only sunlight reaching the deep bowels of the city comes in the form of solar electricity. That's why in Neon-York it is said that the time of day doesn't matter, party time's always now or never. And for Kit, party time was now. As their sky-car zoomed away from the Conga Exchange Nightclub through the neon-lit streets of the so-called Pleasure Box, Kit's senses were on high alert, a digital simulacrum of adrenaline coursing through his circuitry. Seated beside him was the mobster in the pinstripe suit. Mr. Rizzo, calm and quiet as always. Too calm and quiet, as always. Kit could feel his tension, it hadn't been this bad in a long time, not since their last job together. What was on that chip Rizzo slotted into him back at the club? No matter. They may have secured the data, but now they were in a race against timed self-deletion encryptions and, as it turned out, against unknown opposition too.
"Congestion ahead" the skycar informed them in a tone too non-plussed for the occassion, as the skylane filled up around them. "At this hour?" Rizzo asked. Was traffic control being manipulated? "Pull over, there in that alley!" Rizzo ordered. Just as the car started to comply, three gunmetal-black hoverbikes appeared behind and started speeding their way. Looking around for even the smallest of squeezing spaces, Kit saw the possibilities - this was what he was made for! Screw traffic: there were the service tunnels underneath the Pleasure Box they could take, bob and weave into the various skylanes to try and get rid of them, or maybe they could even take the fight down to the streets. Whatever choice, gotta go fast...
@Izurich SatoCorp VIP Lounge, June 12th 2177, 21:47, tick... tock...
The greedy businessman hung back in his chair. Whatever was left of his face and the whisky therein sloshed onto the floor. His vital signs couldn't get any more flatlined than this. And with that, Master's task was complete... almost. Lenneth only had one more objective: get out, alive. The sudden eerie silence of the room was broken only by the silent alarm's digital wail. Set off by the kill-switch in the man's skull. Lenneth knew - her cleanups almost always ended like this. Automated security measures sprung to life all around her. The windows glazed over as they hardened into their bulletproof state. Lights dimmed and near-infrared rangefinder beams swept across her body, and she knew that all of the building's security would know exactly where she was now. Lenneth's systems processed her options in milliseconds:
- Option 0: Escape via the ventilation shafts. They could offer a potential escape route, away from most of the security forces that would undoubtedly be up here in minutes. Assessment: moderately difficult, Stealth mode recommended.
- Option 1: Rooftop escape, to the emergency exit all the way at the top of the building. Scaling to the rooftop would be risky, but it could offer a swift and open escape route, provided she could navigate the treacherous heights and evade any aerial surveillance. Assessment: moderately difficult, Agile mode recommended.
- Option 2: Stay here and have a standoff at the VIP lounge. This could provide adequate fortifications to make engaging with the coming security easier, and this place did have less cameras considering all the shady deals that went on here, but she would likely have to engage most of the building's security. Assessment: dangerous, Combat mode highly recommended.
The milliseconds went by some more. Decisions, decisions...
@Expendable ???, June 12th 2177, 23:59, tick... tock...
Tara? Who was Tara? They used her brain as an extranet server? What in the wide world was going on? The girl stared around her, her eyes slowly but surely adapting to all the new stimulations. She could see variations in the light's intensity now, not just mere blobs of qualia. Against the sterile interior of the ambulance there was her rescuer - the man who disconnected her from the Feed, from the comfort in the numbers and calculations, from... An electric tingling ran through the girl's arm as a needle was run into it. Unknown substances dripped into her, and her mind slipped beyond the edge between consciousness, and something not quite.
The cup of hot water warmed her up, and the shivering started to subside. The safehouse's mismatched furniture and carpets tickled her skin. Behind the thin walls, she could hear people pacing about, anxiously whispering. “Welcome to your new home for now." The man said. "Name's Dex. Not my original name, obviously, not after that stunt we pulled just now. Half of my profile's gonna have to be wiped again, even as a member of the NYSF, but it's worth it." He flashed a small smile, but it was a warm one. "We're gonna have to swap out your PID as well before anything else, get you a new identity, else they'll just track you down again in no time. Speaking of which...” His face suddenly grew serious, and the whispers behind the wall stopped. "What's your name? What do you remember?"
