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I have been writing as a hobby for longer than you have been alive. I have been a regular member and roleplayer of no less than fourteen different online forums during that time (including the old RPG), five six eight of which no longer exist.

I was previously a regular on the Homestuck forums, but I became so sick of thread turnover there that I asked around and eventually found the Guild. Since joining, I have exclusively only participated in Advanced RPs. Before Mahz gave NRPs their own subforum, I used to be an NRP regular in the Advanced Subforum. I am a Guildfall survivor, and know/regularly write with a few others.

If you ask anybody who has written with me in previous RPs, they should tell you that I have a generally open schedule, I post regularly and in a timely fashion, and I never drop an RP once I join unless the thread dies. Some of them may tell you that I have extensive expertise within the realms of Biology, Psychology, and Physics, which I will make no effort to validate since there is no way I can provide hard proof of aforementioned alleged expertise to anybody over the internet (though I am happy to try and answer any questions you send my way).

My favorite fandom is the Myst franchise, which seemingly nobody other than me has ever heard of.

I was a Contest Moderator for the Writing Contests Subforum for just a little bit over two years. I wrote the Moderation Policy for that subforum and I ran a contest called the Twelve Labours; you can still go there and see all of them and the entries people wrote for them in the Contests Section and the Victory Archives.

I have been quadruple secret banned from the guild discord. That is not a joke.

Most Recent Posts

Have you considered putting this in the Arena Roleplay Subforum? I realize not all the events are strictly combat-oriented, but they cater pretty specifically to your premise if nothing else and they have several roleplayers experienced with this sort of thing.

If you do not feel like having the whole thread moved, you might also consider just posting a connected interest check there.
If you do not mind him being tracked by either another hunter or Theron for another meeting, do let me know, I am sure there would be no shortage of added questions they would have, @Terminal.


Either Theron or somebody else works. If you want to collab something again that's fine, or alternatively just have them set out on the path and I'll lead them in the right direction.
@The Harbinger of Ferocity

If Intellitron is looking for something for Theron to do while they are pumping Golemeth for information, here's a suggestion if you are up for it. Tracy has distinct traces in the parts-per-million of refined Plutonium-239 in the fabric of his clothes and duffel bag, and given that most of their leads came from his line of questioning it is probably not too big a leap of logic for them to want to question him in turn. Especially since he likely knows a lot he was not saying.

The best part being, Theron is already geared to track Tracy down, given the normal trace amounts of background Plutonium are so low - even in Night City - that all he has to do is go back to where he last met Tracy and he could probably trace him all over town.
@Wampower and I are reserving a joint claim to Zion, specifically writing for transplanted Jacobstown Mutants and the New Canaan Tribes under Joshua Graham.
I personally have been pondering how exactly to proceed, and figured it might be best to lead briefly with a secondary character already mentioned.

Congratulations then, @13org. As for myself, I intend to post something this weekend, for anyone interested in dealing with the Intellitron Corporation. If not, well, then this notification obviously does not apply to you!


If there was any particular aspect of Tracy's interrogation of Golemeth that Intelligron was particularly keen to revisit and delve into, let me know.
Interested. I will malinger around in the discord for the time being and get a sense of things before I start putting anything together.
@OppositionJ, next time you are on, drop by in the Discord channel if you can. We are working on a collab between Sirroc and Hecuba, and the Archivist has just been invited into the room.

We can technically post what we have and leave it off for post-by-post responses, but we figured we might as well check with you first.
"And if there's anything going to be wrong with him other than fragile packaging without all his metal, a warning would be nice."
Theron

"Like I said earlier. Once that gunk I just shot him up with finally starts peeling off from his neurons, his brain blood toxicity will skyrocket and he'll probably hemorrhage to death. That will happen in around a day, maybe. Probably a little less. Just get him to your people so they can put him on a slab, I'm sure they can do something for him." Tracy's entire body seemed to be distractedly shifting continually in the direction of the door, his eyes sliding across every surface of the room as he glanced around nervously.

"Wuh?" Golemeth managed.

"As for getting him to nap, just yank your coat's biomonitor feed. Once its source disconnects all of his autonomics will lose power again."

"Wuuuuugh?" Golemeth attempted, his eyes growing as wide as dinnerplates. From the way what remained of his neck muscles were shifting he was furiously struggling to move pieces of him that were no longer there.

"Now forgive me for saying I hope we never see each other again. If we do though, maybe we can try this again. The uh, helping each other thing, not the interrogating cyborgs in a sex dungeon thing. Bye." He turned and booked it out the room's door, the plastic-paneled door rocking against the opposite wall as it slammed open before starting to close again.

As Tracy was about to breeze by reception, the man in the wifebeater rapped on the glass divider to get his attention. Tracy stopped, clenched his fists, grit his teeth, and slowly turned his head to look at the man.

"What?!?"

"They might not have known something was wrong before." The receptionist said with a thin smile. "But they definitely do now."

"Do you even know who they is?" Tracy snapped back. The receptionist's eyes flicked down and to the left at the monitor on his side of the wall briefly in response.

"Yeah that's what I thought. Stick to your little niche and don't be such a smartass, you'll live longer." Tracy muttered as he hurried out the front door.

The brief exchange had been more valuable than the receptionist could have known. Tracy had been operating on the assumption the Phantasmagoria had already been en-route, but now it seemed more likely than not they had not been made aware of how Davidson's disappearance had fucked up their arrangement with him. Which meant Tracy might - might - have an extra day or two before the end of his world.

The next course of action was pretty clear. He had to head to Deeptower ASAP and try to start eliminating possibilities in the great chain of things that could have gone wrong. Maybe Davidson had never handed the case off to his proxy. Maybe he handed it off to the proxy but something happened to them. Maybe the proxy got the case and went to Deeptower but never checked in. All Tracy knew was that something tied to Davidson's appearance had prevented Tracy from being informed he had to go to Deeptower to pick up the case. But now he knew. In the best scenario, the proxy was still there with the briefcase wondering where the hell his contact was. Tracy doubted the reality of the situation was going to be that tidy, but assuming he managed to get in and out alive, hopefully he could at least pinpoint at what step things had gone wrong.

Even the small, simplistic chain of getting 'in' and 'out' of Deeptower alive was laughable on its own of course, and figuring out anything once he was inside was going to require a miracle. Deeptower had been architecturally inspired by the Kowloon Walled City, with the planners having more or less said: 'You know what would be great? This, but with a whole lot more verticality.' It was a hollow-interior tower nearly forty-stories in height above-ground and with nearly forty subterranean basement levels. It was made up as one massive empty shaft, with residential 'suites' built directly into the walls all the way up and down, all of them connected only by a tenuous network of rickety metal walkways and, nominally, by a pair of elevators that had likely never worked even when they had first been installed. The tower was rated for a presumed residential population of around two-thousand, assuming two people for each of the individual units on each floor of the building. In reality, Deeptower was presently home to well over ten-thousand people, if not more. Many of the individual residential units, already barely the size of broom-cupboards, had been converted into makeshift brothels, drug dens, ripperdoc sheds, and more. A thriving grey-and-black market industry flourished within Deeptower's internal shaft, with an entire working population being able to live their whole lives without setting foot outside or seeing the sun. And that was all without even touching upon the innumerable illegal tunnel networks below-ground that the residents had been carving out since forever. Even SWAT teams would not set foot in the place, and Corporate Security and Paramilitary firms rated the building as a 'Sextuple Hazard Pay Risk' area.

The entire place was a deathtrap and catastrophic public catastrophe waiting to happen. People in the surrounding neighborhoods took bets on when, exactly, the tower would collapse in on itself. It had already survived more than four historical fires that swept through every floor, and every layer of its structure had been punched through and riddled with unstable modifications by its residents. And Tracy was going to have to dive in, on his own, to look for a lead that may not even exist.

He hesitated. He had already poked around Babbage Cell earlier and had not found any trace of the case. That did not necessarily mean it was not there though. Davidson had a lot of high-security safes and storage units in there that Tracy had not been able to look in, conceivably it was just as likely the case was in one of them as opposed to the sprawling hell that was Deeptower. There was the small issue that those storage units possessed ultraviolet security ratings and that Tracy stood zero chance of getting inside them on his own of course, and time was a factor here. For a moment Tracy simply stood on the curb of the street, teetering at its edge as though he were standing atop a precipice in indecision of whether to fling himself off or not.

What he really needed right this second was more to go on. Another hint. Then it occurred to him.

Nailtooth was still in town. Alone. Without his crew. Probably without much in the way of backup. If Tracy could jump him, catch him by surprise...If he could even find him, of course. He could be anywhere in Night City, and Tracy had no decent means of tracking him down that would not also lead to him getting reduced to a black scorch-mark on the ground. Except...

He eyed the duffel-bag as inspiration struck. He had a time and place. He had something that had belonged to Nailtooth. What he needed was somebody who had top-shelf olfactory augs. He could hire them with a bluff, then have them track Nailtooth's location all the way from Babbage Cell to, hopefully, wherever he currently shacked up. The tricky part about that would just be finding somebody like that on such short notice.

Thus, Tracy began obliviously walking away from the parlor where he had just been working with Theron - who had the exact set of augs Tracy needed right that second.
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