Neon Hearts in Derelict Futures [Briar & AlrunaRose]

[Blood Briar]

Torn plastic flapped in the wind beneath an overpass linking an industrial and commercial district, laid out near the channel. The din of traffic was quiet; even inside of business hours, downturned business and doomed development kept this part of the city ill-occupied, and it was long past closing time. Cigarette flame shone in the muted dark of the indefinitely delayed construction site, its planning derailed by fraud and bankruptcy. Two figures conversed softly amidst the shell left behind as the drone of an engine approached.

Headlights cut into the darkness. A deep blue (nearing black) motorcycle swung down the access road and slowed to a halt near an already parked car before cutting out and coming to rest. The rider slid off it and lifted a closely matching helmet from her head. Shaking loose electric blue hair, she set the helmet onto the seat and walked beneath the shadow of the overpass, assessing the pair as she approached.

A good heft past 6', the taller of the two bore the amber plumage and scaly flesh of a Charak, with a cigarette nestled in its beak. They wore a synth-leather jacket like the rider, but in a dull ochre and orange instead of black, and had a very tall axe with a long, wide blade strapped to their back. Their spiked tail swished casually while their eyes scanned the roads without impatience; the fourth member of the group had yet to arrive. Next to the Charak was a Human, around the same height as the rider, reclined against a bundle of steel rebar that never received its concrete shell. Clad in baggy, eclectically black and white pants with a matching shirt, he was sporting a pair of machine pistols and a utility belt laden with gear. His facial hair was notably groomed, with a thin handlebar mustache and short beard trimmed to the chin. The pair seemed familiar enough, given how close they'd situated next to each other.

"Styrix?" the rider asked toward the Charak. They nodded. A hand was offered and taken, precision filed claws carefully avoiding tearing a hole in the rider's gloves. "And Brahms." She repeated the gesture with the Human; the show of respect was an important ritual. Even among criminals. "You must be Therrye," the Charak rumbled. The rider nodded with a slight smile, more for recognition than anything else. "Ready to make some bank?" Therrye gave Brahms a look of mild surprise and then the smile became genuine. "That's the plan." He followed that with a fist-pump, cutting through any tension cleanly and sparking amusement. Infectious grins made for good company in dangerous times.

Dozens of questions waited in Therrye's thoughts about the job - the details were thin from Joi - but that should wait for the last arrival. That left a couple, though. "Joi said you two go way back," she offered toward Styrix. "We fled the Boral mines together," they intoned, thoughtfully. "Then I should thank you." She smiled appreciatively, but the Charak shook their head. "No. I owe my freedom to her."

It was a good start, at least. They looked capable enough, too, and the Dust Cartel's mines on Boral III weren't an easy place to escape. Joi had shared both too few and too many details on her years there over drinks. Plenty enough to light the easy anger and the hard hate in her. And, well, some of her baser impulses when the urge to protect someone wasn't something that could be acted on. Joi didn't have any interest in bedding coworkers, though. It was probably for the best. Therrye didn't need or want to make her work complicated.

The sound of approach brought the attention of all three of them to the road.

 

[AlrunaRose]

Tyler Bates -- Every Ending Has a Beginning

A real-life nightmare; a day of utter mayhem and infamy -- a day her mind simply couldn't let go of.
A corporate tower lighting up the night sky, as it writhed with flames; firefighters and Corpo damage control running all over the place, looking for something -- or someone. Burning cars, infrastructure chewed up from errant explosions, with the bodies in Corpo suits littering the streets in sparse leaps and bounds. In an alleyway, the bodies were more clustered in a dead end. Backed up against the wall, she fell to her knees as she began to bluster in half-screaming sobs, silver tears streaming down her face as the adrenaline began to abandon her. Her jumpsuit ripped, torn and charred; her body bruised, broken and bleeding, positively awash with grisly spatters of red and blue -- their blood, and hers. Her hands trembled, knuckles white and clasped around the hilt of a katana, it's blade vibrating inches from her midsection, ready to commit seppuku. She had won against all odds, but she wished she hadn't. Exhaustion fell upon her like the dreaded weight of the world; hoping it was Death in disguise, she fetally crumbled to the ground and just wept, and wept, and wept... She was too weak to do it. Just a little nap; maybe a few minutes, maybe forever... The last thing she saw through tear-blurred eyes as sleep pulled her into it's macabre embrace; a sight that made her heart rattle at the bars of a cage with blood-curdling rage... A neon, moving-wall advertisement -- "Arasaka Corporation -- protecting what matters most."

... darkness held her but for a few moments. And then, the sound of a glass slamming against a hardwood bartop and sliding towards her, followed by a fizzing sound.
Aolieon Amuchasteguei's eyes snapped open, and her pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks. She sat bolt upright and reached for weapons that weren't there, looking around feverishly. The sound of trance music graced her ears, but the bar was largely empty, having been hours after closing time. Her eyes locked onto the sight of a human chromed gato behind the bar, in some high fashion with a magenta manbun and ostentatious tattoos all over his face -- recognizing him, her pupils dilated to a visible depth and she relaxed. "Good morning, boo. Heard ya sobbing in your sleep; I know better than to be anywhere near you when that happens. Look alive; you're late for a job." He spoke with a flamboyant lisp and was absent-mindedly cleaning a glass in that moment.
Aolieon took a secondary look around -- and then the hangover hit her like a truck. Her eyebrows furrowed in pitiful regret, and she moaned an ensemble of child-like protest, throwing her head back into the crook of her arms. Her hair was an unkempt mess around her head and horns, being the biggest sign that she had hit the party a little too hard. The barkeep strutted quickly over there, grabbing one of her crescent horns as one might grab a child's ear and lifting her head up firmly before moving his synthetic hand to caress her cheek. "I know; you were dreaming of that night again. I'm sorry, babe; but you've got Syndicate Faces blowing up my implants because apparently you were supposed to be twenty blocks away, 15 minutes ago." When being picked up by the horns, it was a big much for a hungover Aolieon, who couldn't help but let out a "Tch!" as she sharply inhaled through her teeth and huffed in frustration at the man. She sneered at him and reached for a nearby half-full bottle of vodka, which was almost immediately snatched out of her hands and traded for the glass that slid towards her not even a minute ago. "Uh-uh; you owe me over 600 eddies now, and I'm not gonna let you pass up another job, girl. Now, get that ass in gear; bottoms up!" Aolieon lowered her eyelids at the barkeep, then reluctantly snatched the glass and took it straight to the dome -- just as she did, the barkeep produced a pistol-gripped injector and administered a shot to the side of her neck. Aolieon was taken aback, half-choking on the seltzer cocktail designed to deal with stomach-related hangover issues. "Ohh quit being a bitch-baby; it's just some naproxen. It'll take the edge off," he commented, putting the injector away and letting her finish the mixture. She placed the glass down and then reluctantly swallowed the unpleasant mixture, gasping for air and reviling at both sensations as they overtook her. Kaede Rhea was likely the only person who could have gotten away with touching her like he did without losing teeth; between the two of them, not only was he a world-class bartender, but he was a vibrant flaming man-eater and one of few supportive friends who had done more than their fair share of keeping Aolieon functional when she really didn't want to be.
She could have reacted 20 different ways, or just been overstimulated. But like a champ, the moment the glass left her hands, she reached in some hip compartments and produced a compact mirror, some eyeshadow and lipstick and began doctoring up her make-up to shrug off all the sleaziness. "Attagirl -- there she is; put your face on," Kaede gave some encouraging words, as he walked around from behind the bar with a hairbrush and approached from behind to begin wrangling the tangles out of her long-angled locks -- another gesture of daring affection, yet one justly earned. Aolieon winced as the gato worked her hair artfully, and she applied her lipstick. Holding her head still, she wiped clean some smudged eyeliner and doctored it up rather elegantly, once again masking her sleepless eye-bags. "Antoine's got your stuff out the locker; he'll hand you your gear on the way out. I'm sure you've got a slew of messages for the location -- if only you kept those damn implants turned on, you damn ganic," He finished brushing out her hair, fluffing it and whirling her around on the barstool by touching her shoulders with respect. "Now, you get out there and make some bank, choom." Aolieon gave him a mild smile of appreciation -- aaaaand then reached behind herself to procure the vodka bottle and imbibe some liquor straight from the source. Kaede put his hands on his hips and scoffed, "Hey, what did I say?!" Aolieon closed her eyes and smirked with the bottle to her lips, gracing Kaede with a middle finger from her free hand as a reply. "Bitch, you lucky you cute..." he retorted to her non-verbal brazen behavior. She put the bottle down and poked his forehead -- the naproxen and seltzer combo had clearly done wonders for her complexion and alertness. "Bitch, I'm adorable. Love you, boo." She stood up from the barstool and then strutted out the bar, pressing her finger to her temple to turn her visor implants on.
Kaede clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers at her. "Come back with money, or that'll be the last drink you ever have in here, you hear me?!" Aolieon brushed the air quietly, as if to say whatever, as she went into the foyer and was met with the visage of the giant body-builder ChromeJock that was Antoine, the bouncer. Sure enough, he had all of her gear in his hands and was waiting with a thinned patience. "Thanks, Antoine. I'll get you back for this, I swear," Antoine grunted as she quickly clasped her blades in reverse grip to her back, her pistol and all of her various cyber gadgets and amenities. She waved him a non-chalant goodbye, as 7 different messages popped up in her feed -- she didn't even bother to read them, she just opened the one with the location and began briskly walking with the pathfinding of her GPS. Before setting on her way, she at least decided to send an auto-generated "On my way!" message before starting on her journey ~

Walking through the derelict and decrepit streets was a common sight she had gotten used to. Once upon a time, she walked more glamorous streets, but when she had to go into hiding, there was narry a care to give about the scenery of the city's underbelly. She strode with a decent pace; wanting to give enough due diligence to not be much later for the sake of her connections and wallet, but not exactly being invested in the situation she was walking into. She followed the arrows as they turned left and right, getting about halfway there before she had to pause for a moment, feeling woozy. She looked around and found a smoker's outpost that had clearly been hit by a roaming vehicle and knocked open. Good enough, she thought; taking a quick left and right glance before running her fingers carefully through her hair, clasping all her locks firmly behind her -- and very briefly yakked into the smoker's outpost. Eugh. She sharply inhaled through her nose, fluffing her hair and wiping her mouth before quickly procuring some breath spray and applying it liberally into her mouth. That being said, she shook her head briefly, all her senses now coming into full focus before she continued along her way.
Eventually, the subtle pulsing of her GPS got more frequent; only a few more turns remained. Things were quiet... too quiet. She lightly clicked her tongue, and then lifted her legs one after another, kicking high and hugging her thighs. She then performed a really quick, awkward hip roll as she reached her arms behind her back and then stretched them up to the sky -- a sort of weird, half-sexy, half-awkward preliminary stretching routine. These streets were still filled with degenerates, and she had had a couple of scenarios where the job rendezvous she was walking into was actually the anticipated crime scene to be. So, it didn't hurt to be prepared for something stupid to go down. She checked the ammo in her pistol and made sure a full clip was loaded, then put it back in her holster and adjusted herself to make it look like she wasn't immediately prepared to draw on people. Without further ado, she began to strut along her way once more...

The click of platformed high heels began to echo down the alleyways, as a cerulean-skinned Liandri turned the corner. Clad in a skin-tight jumpsuit of black patent leather and vinyl lavender as the secondary color; with silver gear harnesses and the high heels built into the one-piece jumpsuit, it looked like some weird cross between leisurewear and Edgerunner gear. She ran her left hand over her crescent horn, caressing the aluminum-colored locks and finding an errant curl to play around with -- her expression dropped into a cold, semi-oblivious look, with her eyes looking complacent and aloof -- when she laid eyes on the three and saw that they were geared up for a job; she narrowed her eyes briefly and then approached as if she was going to walk right on through. Her eyes scanned the motley crew for intention and detes that might help her glean if she was in the right place... aaaaaand then the GPS faded from view. She was in fact in the right place, and this caused her to mildly bite her bottom lip, her expression turning cold and perturbed.
"I'm sorry, I appear to have made a wrong turn; I'm supposed to be meeting a business partner, and I'm sure they understand that I work alone," she began, continuing to size up the three as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her back leg. "... Are you all... also here for a job?" she began, deciding it was polite and customary enough to give these exotics and the cybered-up razorgirl the benefit of the doubt. Her eyes kind of lingered a little bit longer on her. She was a bit easy on the eyes, but something rugged and uncouth radiated about her. She was a bit taller than Aolieon, and even through an inquisitive, scrupulous stare -- her eyes seemed cold, seemingly awash with a sea of honey and yet devoid of any warmth. She seemed to wish to extend the proper formalities, but something about her body language gave away that there was something about this situation she clearly didn't like.

 

[Blood Briar]

For a long moment, no one said anything. The three of them shared a look that communicated a mutual sense of what at the arrogant words and the awkward approach. Brahms started laughing, which elicited an awkward chuckle from Therrye and a mild chuff from Styrix. "Then I guess we're all working alone together tonight." The Human offered a generous smile and gregarious wink in Aolieon's direction. He somehow had a knack for being disarming, despite the easy lethality of the situation summed up well in the blades on Aolieon's back.

For her part, Therrye appeared mortified for a moment (even if it was muted by her tact). Partially on her behalf, partially on the other Liadrin's. The samurai gave off very mixed signals: ready to kill, unsure of herself, glam as a street doll, cold as a corpse, and armed to the teeth. That she was dangerous, Therrye had no doubt. That she was a professional, Therrye was all doubt.

She didn't return the coldness, but her own violet gaze was lukewarm at best for the time being.

Styrix made a noise vaguely in the vicinity of one clearing their throat and pushed onward with a quiet rumble. "Aolieon, right? Exfil job of a Corpo black box?" They gave her a moment to react. "The fifth, our netrunner, is already ready to go." They nodded to Brahms, who produced a hexogonal disc and pressed a button on its thin surface. A flat avatar of a scorpion surfing on water appeared on the digital surface. A tinny voice emanated. "Yep yep, tapped into the perimeter security. Y'all aces yet?" "Our samurai only just arrived." An annoyed sigh came out of the disc. "So you want me to go over the plan I'm guessing?" "If you don't mind." "Fine, fine, fine." The rapid fire exchange and tones used communicated a familiarity between them, which made Therrye and Aolieon the odd ones out of the pre-established dynamics.

That wasn't exactly comforting, but Therrye only gave Aolieon one more cautious glance before focusing in on the netrunner.

On their visuals, a node appeared right above the disc that each of the assembled could connect to. The information displayed against it made it obvious that it was a simple group channel they could use to share comms and files directly from their augments - such was as useful to a group of criminals pulling a heist as it was to students finishing a group project. "Get connected so I can show you the floor plans. They got some nasty security layouts in this bad bitch of a box."
For her part, Therrye did exactly that. A coordinated group was likely to be a far more successful group.

 

[AlrunaRose]

The long moment of awkward silence caused what little emotion was in Aolieon's expression to completely disappear, and she uncrossed her arms to smooth her hands down upon her hips, keeping her stance open and receptive while angling her elbows more or less behind her... Aolieon's blades looked oddly like unearthly shoto-katanas with a falx-like blade tips and shamshir-like handles; hardly the kind of weapons that a samurai would use unless they were defensive, and hardly what one might call a "katana". What was stranger is how they were mounted in an X-shape across her back, with the handles down by her lower back -- the key takeaway point? It would be hard to notice at first, but Aolieon having her hands on her hips with the elbows backwards was the equivalent to why some mercs stick their thumbs in belt loops -- to have their hands really close to their side-arms without demonstrating a show of force by having it on the weapon, outright...
Fortunately for the rest of them, Brahm's laughter bought a lot back for this motley crue; while her hands didn't leave her hips, she shifted her hips to apply weight to the other foot, and tilted her head, as if to quietly ask what was so humorous. When he did confirm they were there for a job, Aolieon clicked her tongue, looking away from the group with an off-putting expression. She sighed with resentment and preserved a noticeable amount of personal space from the trio, but did not openly back away or show cowardice. Brahm's honor-bearing reply to the prospect of working alone caused her to pucker her lips in a curt disdain, but didn't seem to disagree. She could feel Therrye's chagrin, even through muted lukewarm stares and hitherto decided at least for the moment to pay no mind.
"Exfil job of a Corpo black box?" -- she didn't read the messages and thus she was NOT aware of those detes; this was partly in due to the fact that she didn't want to give any contextual ammunition that any Syndicate benefactors might have gleaned from her even bothering to have the messages be labeled as "read" -- it's how she kept them from wasting her time. She tilted her head, looking down as her long hair curtained a bit to the side at this information, chewing on her lip trying to keep a lid on some bitterness inside. Her pupils slowly shrank to a small size, almost looking panicked at first glance, but it was actually a mildly menacing glower that restrained a spite that she had been trying to drown for a minute now...

A slow and reluctant return to the Syndicate's ways, doing odd jobs here and there to get by in introverted privacy, and the first major gig they give her following her reception after hiatus... was a Corpo heist. Keeping her head to the side, she leveled her gaze at the avian, squinting her eyes derisively. "...Yeah? I'm afraid so," she replied. She didn't exactly know what was up, and she was doing well to hide it, but clearly someone on the inside was really trying to grind Aolieon's gears. Either that, or they had figured out what was up and was trying to weaponize her more than she already had herself... She did not like this -- new faces? A poorly constructed motley crew of god-knows-what kind of bottom-of-the-barrel Edgerunners? A Corpo Heist of valuable intelligence? Someone was pulling the strings here, and she couldn't put her finger on it. Part of her quietly debated walking away... but she needed the money. It stunk like rotten meat, but work was work and she wasn't in a position to bargain.
She let the netrunner and the formal avian have their little tete-a-tete, fluffing her hair back behind her and smoothing the locks back into a uniform place. She rolled her eyes when they were invited to link-up to the node. She flicked her wrist non-chalantly, snapping the port open and wringing her hand to extend the cord to clasp between her thumb and forefinger, plugging it into the node. She chewed on her bottom lip a little more, mulling over the situation and making a mental note to leave some evidence to remind those who might be interested of what she was capable of -- if this job went tits-up, then somebody was going to have hell to pay. She hadn't been back in this scene long, but the ulterior motives and political intrigue of the Syndicate was already on her last nerve. Considering their piss-poor rapport with buying back her patience, self-destructive intrusive thoughts began to taunt her from the back of her mind...

She listened half-mindedly and then inhaled through her nose as the rest of the group huddled in and got friendly with one another. It was at this moment that Aolieon took notice of the damage to the razorgirl's horns -- her mind extrapolated what they'd look like fully-grown, and her mind echoed ... Liandri? ... Aolieon couldn't recall when she had seen another of her kind; probably never, and this one looked decisively more human than she did. Without much else to do as everyone gravitated towards their own established relations with one another; she non-chalantly offered a hand to Therrye, and managed to breathe out a simple, "nice to meet you," under her breath. Aolieon wasn't at all enthused about this situation, money notwithstanding, but the razorgirl's unease was practically breathing down Aolieon's neck -- she could feel the heat radiating off this one. At the very least, Aolieon figured she should try to be nice and mellow out the tension... she might not have exactly meant well, but she needed to keep up appearances until the job was done, at the very least. Who knows? Maybe this one was worth learning about -- there'd be plenty to witness, which would determine that, provided that Aolieon didn't let her own nerves overtake her and decide to paint the very walls with every drop of Corpo blood she could find...

 

[Blood Briar]

Unlike Therrye's, Styrix's gaze was more inscrutable. A little tall even for their own species, they seemed to naturally fill the role of stoic leader within the dynamic of the pre-assembled. Those eyes took in plenty without giving much back. That Charak as a species already gave exceedingly little from their nonverbal communications didn't help. Despite all of that, if there was notable emotion to decipher from them, it lay in the direction of concern rather than judgment. A good leader bears the weight of those they lead, after all. Their response to Aolieon's confirmation was a mild nod of acknowledgement.

Syndicate politics were more distant to Therrye, through both a fair amount of intentional indifference and her wide orbit from its interior. She didn't even claim the title of edgerunner, despite strings of jobs across her years of freedom. Such work was less reliable and much messier than how she more frequently put her muscles and chrome to use. Ambition meant little if your choices filled a tin with your ashes. Still, when it came to her bearing, she held quiet confidence in her self and her skills. Only a bit nervousness peaked out about the contents of the job, as explained by their nameless netrunner, and only when it came to the turrets and lack of intel about the last floors. Her concern, not unlike Sytrix's, centered more thoroughly around the discordance brought in by the samurai with the exotic blades.

Even after they later withdrew their cords from the disc, the communication channel would of course remain wirelessly open between the five of them. Floor plans stacked vertically in front of them on their visuals, showing five sub-levels, with a glowing yellow chest icon residing in the center of the bottommost level. They shifted to isometric and the focused floor became opaque while the netrunner ran it down.

"You'll come in through the delivery entrance after I fry surveillance. The door's harder, so you're up Brahms, but it's fewer guards on that side." Brahms practically beamed at mention of his person. "I shan't disappoint." One could practically hear the eyeroll in the netrunner's voice. "If you can keep it hush hush, snatching an access card gets you down to the third sub-level through the elevators. S'all biometrics from there, though, so you'll need a hostage or a hand. Probably." That a head was the next option after hand elicited a touch of squeamish color in the Human's cheeks. Brahms gave a harsher than intended cough and mustered a response. "Probably?" "Yeah, well, uh... the bottom two floors are air-gapped. If you connect me, I might be able to get the doors."

While the plan continued to get laid out, Aolieon's hand extended in offering. Her ears didn't quite pick up what she said - she wasn't specced in those directions with her augments - but the tone wasn't unfriendly. Therrye took it without hesitation and shot the fellow Liadrin a more welcoming smile. The gesture gave her a little more faith into what the night would demand of them. Were the circumstances different, Therrye's approach to her would drastically differ. A job, especially one of this caliber, demanded attention and gravity, though, and she wasn't one to go about it with the candor and humor the Human brought.

'Might' was a word Styrix and Brahms clearly disliked, based on their shared look. The latter looked particularly concerned. But once again, the plucky human rallied. "If needs must, we can always go loud." He drew a small plastic explosive - the kind that came in sheets stacked upon sheets in military containers - from his utility belt as way of demonstration. It was very likely he was packing anywhere from a half to a full dozen in that belt. Styrix gave a settled nod. "Right, so, anyhoo, cameras of course on every level, three overlapping pairs of patrolling guards, and turrets on the fourth floor." Thin red boxes appeared on the plans, moving with guards. Red hazard signs indicated cameras with faint cones of shading to indicate cones of vision. And red exclamation points over dark squares showed four large turrets in the corners of the third floor, and four small turrets overlooking the contents of its central room. "The Corpos only care about the black box, which intel puts at the labeled location." The chest icon hopped and shook around for emphasis. "They said there was a bonus in it for downloading 'significant data' and/or for leveling the building, but we look a little light for that much damage. No offense," the tinny voice hastily offered.

Styrix, perpetually unflapped thus far, almost seemed amused. "None to take." They looked to each of the assembled runners for the night. "Prioritize the box and getting out alive, then. All in agreement?" "Can't claim any eddies if we don't make it out," Brahms replied with a winning smile. Therrye nodded firmly. "What Brahms said."