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quet314
Star
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2012
This thread is for starters that I really want to run with. Take any spin on them you want, be anyone you want, if my character spikes your interest, take her.
Here's my main request thread and my f-list is there in case you're worried about kinks matching up.
http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=35069
PM me if your interested. I wouldn't even mind if you went straight in with a response<3
No Title Yet
Marcy sat with her feet hiked up on her desk. Her neatly painted blue toes curled over the edge of the desk as she scrolled mindless through the data. Her artificial fingers slipped the data in thin air and her eyes flickered from the information at hand to the multiple other screens surrounding her.
She had short knotted blonde hair, tiny intricate braids weaved in throughout the blonde mop. It was a nervous habit of hers to knot and braid her hair as she worked, and work was really all she did which her appearance clearly portrayed. Today was particularly bad. There were bags under her big dark eyes. She’d been up all night trying to get eyes on a missing subject. He’d dropped off her radar at 8:43 and she literally had nothing on him.
She sat in a small boarded up apartment at the bottom of a level 70 housing development. Light was streaming through the edges of her blackout screens. Her eyes were straining with effort.
She was at the heart of the city, sitting just above the underbelly of society but close enough to the top that she lived comfortably. She wasn’t high tech level, only a 52, but her skills were specialized and honestly just tedious enough that she was in high demand despite her numbers.
She was an Observation Specialist. Which translated to nothing more than eyes on a camera. She worked small jobs mostly, a few big contracts with building management companies, and one mother of a contract with unspecified source. It was big money, her main income, and she had lost a subject.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she leaned back in her chair and used her feet to push away from the desk. She tossed transparent screens through the air above her and fumbled through camera feeds and motion detected picture systems. The man was just gone. And not just any man. The head of the police force was gone at the drop of hat, directly before election period. Until last night she had kind of always hoped that he was her mysterious employer. Now she was sure that wasn’t the case.
She chewed her lips and threw the screens with a flick of her wired wrist. Marcy stretched her arms above her head and pushed with her feet until her body was straight and taunt with the effort. Her bio-engineered arm whirred and hummed with the effort. She needed to get it checked up soon. The mechanics were struggling keep up with her movements. The effort made her whole body ache. She went limp in the chair as she relaxed. Exhaustion was spilling over into frustration. She needed to file a report soon even if it would get her fired.
She lifted her hands and examined the difference casually. The arm was slick silver with exposed wires in the joints and underside of her arm. Pale flesh toned silicone pieces that matched her natural limbs and made the metal piece less intimidating. Soft silicone pads made up her artificial palm and fingertips. Fingerprints embedded in the material. She’d had the artificial limb nearly all her life but it still felt foreign to her. It didn’t make sense to her why they tried to make it look like a real arm. It even had “nails” painted to match her own. The light blue polish shined brightly on the metal surface compared to her own nails.
Marcy sat up with a sigh and rolled her chair forward again. Screens poured out various feeds and she pulled up a new screen in front of all of them.
She decided to try one more avenue before giving in. She turned to her last resort; a hacker.
She typed up a quick request.
DATA: Need all related info for Michel Worsner last 48 hours.
ID CODE: 4698219621
$$$$
She sent it off with no other information. Hackers these days were known for not caring about anything other than money. They would be discrete and that was what mattered.
She tucked her knees under her chin and dozed off some as she waited.
(( I was feeling something conspiracy theory cyber punk for this. Blade Runner, meets Matrix add some smut and sexual tension. Play with it, shoot me some ideas. We can build something I'm sure
))
Here's my main request thread and my f-list is there in case you're worried about kinks matching up.
http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=35069
PM me if your interested. I wouldn't even mind if you went straight in with a response<3
No Title Yet
Marcy sat with her feet hiked up on her desk. Her neatly painted blue toes curled over the edge of the desk as she scrolled mindless through the data. Her artificial fingers slipped the data in thin air and her eyes flickered from the information at hand to the multiple other screens surrounding her.
She had short knotted blonde hair, tiny intricate braids weaved in throughout the blonde mop. It was a nervous habit of hers to knot and braid her hair as she worked, and work was really all she did which her appearance clearly portrayed. Today was particularly bad. There were bags under her big dark eyes. She’d been up all night trying to get eyes on a missing subject. He’d dropped off her radar at 8:43 and she literally had nothing on him.
She sat in a small boarded up apartment at the bottom of a level 70 housing development. Light was streaming through the edges of her blackout screens. Her eyes were straining with effort.
She was at the heart of the city, sitting just above the underbelly of society but close enough to the top that she lived comfortably. She wasn’t high tech level, only a 52, but her skills were specialized and honestly just tedious enough that she was in high demand despite her numbers.
She was an Observation Specialist. Which translated to nothing more than eyes on a camera. She worked small jobs mostly, a few big contracts with building management companies, and one mother of a contract with unspecified source. It was big money, her main income, and she had lost a subject.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she leaned back in her chair and used her feet to push away from the desk. She tossed transparent screens through the air above her and fumbled through camera feeds and motion detected picture systems. The man was just gone. And not just any man. The head of the police force was gone at the drop of hat, directly before election period. Until last night she had kind of always hoped that he was her mysterious employer. Now she was sure that wasn’t the case.
She chewed her lips and threw the screens with a flick of her wired wrist. Marcy stretched her arms above her head and pushed with her feet until her body was straight and taunt with the effort. Her bio-engineered arm whirred and hummed with the effort. She needed to get it checked up soon. The mechanics were struggling keep up with her movements. The effort made her whole body ache. She went limp in the chair as she relaxed. Exhaustion was spilling over into frustration. She needed to file a report soon even if it would get her fired.
She lifted her hands and examined the difference casually. The arm was slick silver with exposed wires in the joints and underside of her arm. Pale flesh toned silicone pieces that matched her natural limbs and made the metal piece less intimidating. Soft silicone pads made up her artificial palm and fingertips. Fingerprints embedded in the material. She’d had the artificial limb nearly all her life but it still felt foreign to her. It didn’t make sense to her why they tried to make it look like a real arm. It even had “nails” painted to match her own. The light blue polish shined brightly on the metal surface compared to her own nails.
Marcy sat up with a sigh and rolled her chair forward again. Screens poured out various feeds and she pulled up a new screen in front of all of them.
She decided to try one more avenue before giving in. She turned to her last resort; a hacker.
She typed up a quick request.
DATA: Need all related info for Michel Worsner last 48 hours.
ID CODE: 4698219621
$$$$
She sent it off with no other information. Hackers these days were known for not caring about anything other than money. They would be discrete and that was what mattered.
She tucked her knees under her chin and dozed off some as she waited.
(( I was feeling something conspiracy theory cyber punk for this. Blade Runner, meets Matrix add some smut and sexual tension. Play with it, shoot me some ideas. We can build something I'm sure
))