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 Post subject: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 9:38 pm 

eyy, senpai!

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"Good evening Midnight City! How we all doin' tonight?"

The announcer's voice sounded filtered, almost robotic in nature despite very human inflection. A radio broadcasting the station sat upon the corner of a diner's counter, sparsely inhabited by a few nighttime visitors. A clock on the wall read 9pm, and the Midnight FM radio station's broadcasts begun.

"Let's see what we got goin' on today. News reports say that conflicts goin' down in the Bronx blocks have been headed downhill this week. Witnesses are sayin' somethin' about a man on a motorcycle showin' up all over the place. Y'all would do good to stay away from there."

New York's night life was significant, and outside the diner, the streets were alive. Cars drove along roads old and new, concrete super-highways spanning over the older constructs that sat at ground level. It was a hazier evening, the clouds that hung in the sky dyed a duller purple from the neon signs that they flowed above. The diner's own sign was a simple old thing made of physical lights, an antique compared to the moving holograms and screens that displayed advertisements and company logos on the sky-piercing towers around it. The interior was likewise rather quaint, host to manually operated utensils and only a single service droid, hard at work cleaning the floor behind the counter.

"But enough about all that mess. We're all here for one thing, and that's the beauty of music. I got somethin' good I'd like to share with y'all. I hope you enjoy the tunes."

The announcer went quiet, and music began to play. It was a slower song, layered synths making up the entirety of its notes. The station focused on similar music, and had become quite popular among the city's various demographics.

Music aside, the diner was mostly quiet. A pair in a corner booth sat together, having a simple conversation over some coffee. The larger of the pair, a man, was telling some tall tale supposedly from his past. Motions of the hand not holding onto his cup, a blocky-looking mechanical limb, emphasized his words.

"So the coach says to me, 'Jack, if we don't get the touchdown, the game's done. We lose, all this practice was for nothing.' So you know, at this point I'm pretty hyped up. It's all out." Jack took a sip from his drink, while his companion watched and listened, looking a little unimpressed.

"And then you lost, right?" She asked, taking a drink as well. Jack's expression changed immediately, much to her amusement. She let him keep going for now, setting her cup back down.

"What, me? Lose? Nah. I was the best damn player on that team. Of course we won, I was there." He smiled confidently, to which she rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Anne. What's so unbelievable?"

"Last time you told me a football story, it was about how you tackled through a line of sports droids. You can't even throw a football." Anne finished off her drink, setting the empty mug aside.

Jack frowned a little, raising his mechanical arm. "It's this damn thing's fault. No more muscle memory for it." His justification, true or not, was at least believable. Getting a whole limb replaced meant relearning how to use it, and sports use wasn't really a priority. He finished off his coffee, standing up afterward. Anne followed suit, and after they put their mugs on the counter, Jack dropped a dollar and some change in the tips jar.

Outside the diner, their car awaited. It was an older model, made just before the turn of the 22nd century. While it had been heavily modified due to maintenance and special additions, it was recongizable as a 2099 Interceptor, painted a glossy black with silver rims and bumpers. Both of them got in, and Jack turned on the ignition. The car's AI activated with the engine.

"Good evening, Jack. Do you have a location in mind?" On the inner windshield, hologram projectors displayed a map of the city streets, a grid of purple lights forming shimmering outlines of streets and buildings. The car's location was highlighted in blue.

"Nah, just going for a drive." Jack's answer prompted the AI to let the map fade, and after they both buckled in, he pulled back and began driving down the road. He remained on the streets at first, then turned up a ramp and onto the highway.

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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 10:47 pm 
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A large, lanky man in a long red overcoat watches the two patrons leave the diner out of the corner of one of his dull, glassy eyes. He notices the enhancements on one and marks his appearance for later. With the way this town is moving, he thought of anyone with any metal to be a future recruit. Maybe not a full member, but he could always find ways to gain the services of people like him, when they're at their lowest. Never fails.

A shorter, stockier man wearing dirtied blue overalls sipped at his coffee. He hasn't touched his. It's been sitting there cooling since he ordered it. He was never really liked eating out, but it's better to at least order something at a diner, he thought it rude otherwise. And he was anything but rude.

The overalls man sat down his drink, finished, and stood up, motioning for the taller man to follow. He stood, slight creaking noises escaping his joints. He thought he needed to get out more, get some exercise in. Hard to do these days. He looked around the small diner and sighed.

"You know, places like these are a dying breed, Vinny." The tall man said. "Hardly many places where you can just drop by for a cup of Joe and some tunes." He scratched at his ear. "Even if it's the new age crap, like what's playin now."

Vinny simply said nothing and led the tall man outside, around to one of the nearby alleys littering the underground.

"Gallante, listen, I know you like the older stuff, but it just don't go nowheres no more. We got to look towards the the futures, ya see, the new stuff."

The tall man suddenly struck Vinny in the side of his head, before whirling around to face him, shoving him against the opposite wall to the diner.

"No, you listen, you ****ing button, i'm your Boss, The Boss, your father, your elder, your paycheck, understand? I expect to be treated with some respect relevant to my position, capiche?" He wrapped a cold hand around Vinny's throat. "If not, then I can pop you right now and leave you to the pigs. Got it? I'm packin enough heat in this hand to send you home to your mama, see? Do. Not. Let. It. Happen. Again."

Vinny said nothing, terrified and shocked by the sudden, almost complete change in character. He leaned back against the wall, trying to get away from Gallante's gray, souless eyes and his icy grip. It was like looking Death in the face, and worse, if he was your Boss.

"Hey, you in there, you ****ing goon, I'm addressin you here, eh?"

Vinny snapped out of his reverie and blinked rapidly, nodding to Gallante, anything to get some space.

"Good. Remember what I said. Or you'll be the next mark to take a trip to the fish market, understand?"

Gallante released the small, scared man and he stumbled in front of him, silent, leading him the rest of the way down the alley.

"I guess good help is a dying breed, too." Gallante dusted himself off and followed, scratching at his ear every so often.


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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
View Likes PostPosted: Mon Aug 01, 2016 11:29 pm 
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The night sky, in its vague fluorescent haze, was beautiful. Velma knew it was probably over polluted and otherwise bad for the environment, but still, it was a lovely violet color at this time of day. She did her best to shut down the worrying part of her brain about this- it had enough to worry about already. Besides, she was trying to look at the night sky as a break from work. It had been a long day already.

She had just emerged from a small coffee shop- one of those get your order and go places- with two coffees and a large muffin with an inadvisable number of chocolate chips. After pushing past a crowd of pedestrians, she broke through to a tall skeleton of a man leaning against the cracked brick of the coffeehouse. Lance had opted to take a smoke break instead of go inside with her, although she suspected it had more to do with a desire to be alone with his thoughts than to smoke.

“One large black coffee for me, one large black coffee for you,” Velma said, nudging him with the drink. “Careful, it’s from a fresh batch.”

He blinked at her after a moment, like he was waking up again. Then he took the coffee and, apparently ignoring her warning, took a large swallow. Velma watched with some alarm as his adam’s apple bobbed as he forced it down his throat. Lance’s mouth puckered as he squinted at the sky. “That is hot,” he remarked. Velma thought his eyes might have been watering. “Why do I drink this, again?”

“To stay awake through long hours?” Velma suggested.

“I’m not even tired,” he said, frowning.

“Well, we’re not all machines like you, Lance,” Velma said, reaching inside the brown paper bag to remove the muffin. “Want some of this?”

He waved a hand at her. Velma was thankful he was at least thoughtful enough to not let it be the hand holding the cigarette. “Not hungry. Thanks, though,”

Velma had already known the answer, but it made her feel better to ask. She leaned against the wall beside him and took a cautious sip of her coffee and grimaced- it was hot. Still, it wasn’t impossibly hot, so she proceeded after taking a bite out of her muffin. The two stood in relative silence, working on their drinks- or at least Velma did. Lance seemed to mostly just hold his.

Finally, he ground out his cigarette on the wall behind him, then chucked the butt into a nearby trashcan. “We should probably walk back,” he remarked.

Velma made an mmph sound around a bite of muffin. She swallowed forcefully, then said, “to do more paperwork? Not exactly in a hurry.” Still, though, she stuck her unfinished muffin back into the bag and folded the top. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but she could at least attempt to make Lance eat something later. The two began the walk back to the police station. It wasn’t far, maybe three blocks or so, but Velma wasn’t exactly in a hurry.


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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
View Likes PostPosted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 10:26 pm 

eyy, senpai!

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Smalltalk in the car continued for a short while, eventually giving way to silence. Both of them had rolled their windows down, the cold night breeze flowing through the dark interior of the car. Jack held the steering wheel with his organic arm, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. High quality natural tobacco, none of that synthetic stuff that was popular among the lower rung for its cheap price. He plucked a pair out, passing one to Anne, and stowed the rest back into the pocket of his shirt. The cigarette found its way between his teeth, and the tip of his robotic arm's thumb parted slightly, the plates moving aside to allow a lighter mechanism to emerge. He made a motion like snapping his fingers, and a small flame lit on the tip of his digit. He held it to his cigarette to light it, then did the same for Anne, the fire going out as his thumb closed back into its initial state.

Anne took a slow drag, turning her head to blow the smoke out the window. She held the cigarette in her fingers, her arm bent up at the elbow to hold the burning end just outside the car. "Thanks," She began, pausing for some time before speaking again. "You know, I'm thinking about that news on the radio." Once more, she turned her head, this time looking at Jack. Her irises made some small motions as the mechanical parts of them opened her pupils a bit more to adjust to the darker interior of the car. "That guy on the motorcycle, you think that's our guy?" One of the cases they'd been on had been open for upwards of a month with little progress. Mass murders and serial killings were hardly uncommon in the bad parts of the city, but a recent string had some linking similarities. Criminals targeted, deaths by extremely precise shooting, and chaotic crime scenes. Still, their perp went unknown. Any recoverable bullets didn't match any gun on registry, and security systems were always cut before the murders began.

Jack shrugged. "Could be. Could also be any number of punk vigilantes trying to be copycats. Motorcycles are pretty popular with the kids these days." Eyewitness accounts were important, but a vague few sentences on a music station weren't really viable proof. "Maybe we'll catch a big break if the investigators bring something new in. It all depends on what they find." The thought of finally finding the one doing the street cleaning and closing the case was nice, but he doubted any sudden developments with what they'd been leaving behind. It was all the same, every time. "If they call us in to look around, it might mean they found something useful for us. Til then, all we can do is work on other stuff they give us." It had been a mercifully long time since they'd had an active engagement, at least a few weeks without having to face down a rogue cyborg or killer robot. Both knew the relative peace wouldn't last forever, and despite being a period of relative downtime, both were anxious that something big was around the corner.

Plugged into the dashboard, Jack's phone began to ring. He reached for it, but Anne lightly pushed his hand back. "You focus on the road. I'll get it," She ordered. Jack nodded and kept driving. Anne touched the phone's screen, and communications information appeared on her section of the windshield, set at an angle that wouldn't interrupt the driver seat's line of sight. A picture of a work accomplice and something similar to a wavelength graph were projected onto the interior of the glass. "Vance here. What do you need?"

Immediately, the person on the other line responded. "Just got a call from a block in Manhattan. Get to the station as quick as you can, people are saying there's an armed and augmented individual going through it. No shots fired yet. Let's try to keep it that way. We'll set you up with your gear and send you out. Don't take too long."

"On our way." Anne's response ended the call. She turned to Jack once more, who was looking toward her after the information was given. "Let's not keep them waiting," She suggested."

"Wouldn't even think of it." Jack rolled his shoulders and took his steering wheel with both hands, twisting a section of it forward. From the front bumper and roof, red and blue lights emerged and began to shine, and a siren began to ring. The car's AI automatically kicked in, forming a route to the police station that took the least amount of time to reach. Other drivers began to move out of the way, allowing the vehicle to pick up speed and barrel down the highway. Some strategic lane swaps were necessary to avoid larger vehicles, but they soon reached an exit that led them toward the station. The car's AI automatically kicked in, forming a route to the police station that took the least amount of time to take. Finally, they pulled into the parking lot, the siren silenced after entering the premises. Jack twisted the wheel back into its normal position, deactivating the lights, then turned off the ignition and plucked his phone from its plug on the dashboard.

Anne got out as well, moving around the front of the vehicle to begin heading toward the building's entrance. Before entering, she passed her cigarette to Jack, who snuffed out the end of both hers and his with his robotic finger, then slipped them back into their case. Upon entering, she approached the front desk attendant, who was distracted by a set of bulky headphones playing music and projecting some sort of hologram visor over his eyes, doing a sort of dance with his arms while seated. "Hey, Bucky." She failed to catch his attention, so she rang the bell sitting on the desktop. Again, there was no response. She pursed her lips, but Jack managed to get him to look over by slamming his robotic fist down near it, shaking much of the desktop's items around, including the attendant's feet that were resting atop it.

Bucky nearly fell out of his chair trying to immediately straighten up, tearing the headphones off at lightning speed. He looked up at the officers in a panic, but let out a sigh of relief when he noticed it wasn't his boss come to scold him. "Oh, hey guys." A meek wave was given, which Anne responded to with a small one of her own, and Jack with a quick two fingered salute. "You here for the call?"

"That we are," Jack answered, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "Something about a guy with a gun in a Manhattan block."

Bucky nodded. "Right, right, yeah. Just head on up to Jamison's office and she'll give you the details. And, uh, can I ask you a favor? Don't tell her about these headphones, please?"

"Sure thing, kid. But be careful with that stuff while you're on the job. Ya never know when the chief will come check up on you." Jack turned on his heel and started to walk away, while Bucky turned off the headset and hid it in one of his desk's drawers. Anne gave him a small smile and thanked him, then left as well, walking alongside Jack to the office they were called in to.

-----

Out on the streets, a girl seated on a bench was typing away on a phone, sending a message to a friend. "Hey, Juzo, it's Heather. The drone tests are going pretty good. At this rate we'll be able to get these things into their final stage by the end of the month. How are you doing with the materials?" It had been a couple days since she'd seen him face to face, but she eagerly awaited that time to come again. With her message sent, she put the phone into her pocket and adjusted the long coat she was wearing. It wasn't merely to keep warm; beneath its length, her limb pack was worn, four mechanical arms currently in an inactive and partially retracted state hanging off of her back. Above her, partially obscured by the dark under the highway she was sitting beneath, multiple drones were flying around seemingly of their own volition.

Heather looked up at them, and they began to descend closer to her. Each was a bit blocky, not very sleek and clearly homemade, welding marks visible on a few of them. Their propellers kept them aloft, and with two fingers, she began to make circular motions. The drones followed them, hovering around her in a circle. Progress on them was going good, despite a recent dry spell in parts. For now, they'd proved satisfactory. Once she had the means to, surveillance and defense features would be added to all of them. Her mental augmentation's link to the machines would provide her with a means of viewing things from afar once they were implemented, and with shielding and something to shoot, they'd be extremely useful for her line of work. The drones stopped spinning and ascended again as she stood up, hiding themselves in the dark overhead once more.

It was about time to head home, she thought. Another quick adjustment was made to her coat, and she began to walk down the street, keeping her guard up. The ground level could be quite dangerous, but with her extra limbs, she felt like she'd be fine on the way out.

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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Tue Aug 16, 2016 7:07 pm 
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Bob smiled to himself as he rolled the case he had just received to the back of the shop, through the large oil stain on the concrete, looking for all the world like a satisfied warehouse worker in his canvas overalls and baseball cap low over his eyes. The loading dolly wobbled a bit on its four wheels, and he noted to himself yet again that some day he would have to tighten those bolts. The crate itself was a heavy shipping box, around six feet wide and twice that in length, almost four feet deep, and weighed close to a half-ton. Well before he reached the back of the shop Bob planted his feet and hauled back, letting the dolly drag him forward until it ground to a ponderous halt less than a foot from the pitted concrete wall. He patted the dolly like a favoured horse that had performed well and glanced up at the HappyCatParty(tm) clock.

"Damn, already that late, huh? Wonder if I should put in an appearance at Dave's." The bar wasn't actually called Dave's, it was called MacGillicutty's, one of the numerous dive bars in this part of the Pits. The bar owner's name was Geoffrey, but Bob called him Dave to be contrary and to amuse himself. It was his favourite place inside city limits, one of the few places where he had learned he could cut loose and relax without constantly reassuring himself that his wallet and his sidearm were still on him. It was only a block up his alley, an easy walk, though there had been gunfire earlier so he thought perhaps he should skip it. He glanced over at the new crate.

"Nah, much too late to unpack that beast today. Beef it is!" He strode over to a set of lockers near the door leading to his apartment and opened the third one, wrestling to get the hard-worn latch to let go of it's fastening. Inside hung various vests for both over- and under-clothes wear. He selected a thin reactive plate and set it aside just as a small brown head stuck itself through the swinging panel in the door and barked at him quizzically. "Yeah, boy, I'm goin' out. Try not to wee the carpet this time, yeah? We'll go for a walk later tonight." The puppy's affirmative bark and disappearance through the panel threw Bob off for a second. "Damn dog is gettin' smarter by the hour, I swear. Now where the hell did I leave my keys at?"

Twenty minutes later saw Cochrain pull the reinforced steel side door of his garage shut and key in the lock and secure code on the panel next to it, now dressed in jeans and a button down grey work shirt. Checking the lock and feeling the buzz from the security system, he nodded to himself and headed off down the alley. Thankfully, he had never had to pry anyone's corpse off of the door, but in ten seconds it would be charged with enough juice to bring down any three people one could name and leave them charred piles of mess on the step. The neighbours would warn officials and whatnot before hand, as would the sign above the keypad, but anyone stupid enough or shifty-looking had to figure it out on their own. Bob's boots echoed down the alley as he ambled along, humming an old Irish folk song as he went.


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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Wed Aug 17, 2016 1:18 am 
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Vinny pushed open the heavy door of the building at the back of the alley, leading to a dim hallway. He looked back at Gallante's tall frame shadowed by the fading light of the street and shuddered, their encounter still fresh in his mind. He was told the Boss could snap at anytime at anyone, but he couldn't have known how easy it was to set him off... He sighed and shook his head, telling himself to put it aside for now and continue the job. Gallante stepped past Vinny during his inner pep talk and rapped his knuckles against his forehead.

"Ey, Sleeping Beauty, let's get movin we're burnin moonlight 'ere." Gallante continued down the hall as Vinny followed, rubbing his head. They approached another heavy door and Vinny executed a series of knocks, two fast knocks then a break followed by three more. A voice crackled from an unseen speaker.

"Password, fellas." the voice sounded tired, but there was an edge there. Vinny answered with, "It was the One-armed Man." There was a silence that stretched for a few seconds, until the shifting of metal was heard behind the door. It swung inward and light poured out, along with a muffled Jingle Jangle Jingle playing over an old record player. The man on the other side seemed human in most respects, middle aged by the look of him, with a medium build and the looks out of one of those old soda ads, like the spitting image of a decent working man in the 50s. Though, the off putting thing was his missing arm. No stump, no indication an arm was even there, just a hole.

"Well, a good howdy doo to you, there, fellas." He spoke cheerfully, but he made it apparent he'd been up for a while and wasn't happy about it. "What can I do for you this fine night?"

Gallante stepped past Vinny and clasped the other man on the shoulder. "Robert, my boy...I need some, uh, flowers. A good friend of mine is having his funeral today, and I can't show up empty handed, you know?" He strode past him, into his small shop and up to the counter. The shelves were all bare and reinforced with steel, though the counter was made of fine wood. Robert followed and stepped around the counter. "I know it's late, and short notice, but help a guy out would ya? We're friends, aren't we?" He gripped Robert's hand and squeezed it tightly, feigning a look of profound sadness. "Be a pal..."

Robert felt the credits press against his palm and smiled up at the poor man. "Why, of course we're friends, Gallante, so I'll help ya out." He reached under the counter and pressed a button, causing the sound of cracking gears to sound behind the walls. Then, the walls flipped outward, revealing an assortment of weaponry, from close to long range, silent to loud, personal to well, "collateral damage." Robert tucked the credits into his pocket and watched as the two men perused his collection. "If you don't mind me askin, Gallante, when did your friend kick the bucket?"

Gallante turned to him, brandishing one of several semi-automatics. "Oh, he's not dead yet." He wiped his hand along the weapon, testing its weight. "I just have...I don't know, a feeling or a premonition. I think something terrible is going to happen to him. Better to be prepared, isn't that right, Vinny?"

Vinny, for his part, nodded dutifully before returning to hefting out a nice rifle for himself.

"It'll be quite the public affair, gunned down I think. Terrible. Just terrible. And all because he stole from someone very important."

Robert blinked and shook his head. "Well gee, this feller doesn't sound too smart to me, if you pardon."

Gallante stuffed a few more choice pieces into his coat and headed for the door. "No. He wasn't."


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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Wed Aug 17, 2016 7:45 pm 
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Her claws sank half an inch into the brickwork as Mittens' nightmarish figure climbed steadily up the side of the building in order to see through a second story window. She had seen several of the slavers moving in and out of the front of this stinking box place. "Warehouse," chimed her internal encyclopedia. "A building used for the storage, organisation, and distribution of various goods, ranging from perishable foods to electronics and industrial equipment." She paused and shook her head, causing her radar dish to wobble about on it's mounting. "Shut up, infernal thing," she thought to it, her way of giving it orders. "If I desire correction I shall ask for it!" These thoughts were not in the tongue of the slavers, but simple emotion, desire, and intent. The program dutifully ceased monitoring for the moment.

Mittens certainly made an odd sight, if anyone had bothered looking. She was nearly a foot and a half in length, and the design of most of her chassis seemed heavily inspired by early twentieth century science fiction. Old film fanatics and collectors would recognise a heavy H.R. Giger aesthetic, though the plating on her limbs was blocky, and all of it made in a somewhat slipshod and junky fashion. In fact, some of it Mittens had replaced herself, and these parts were obvious because they were even more cobbled together from scrap wire, old plastics, and rusty metals. On the whole, however, she functioned quite well, and more importantly to her, she could still move as silently as her biological brethren.

Her left eye, the one which still retained an organic nature, narrowed as she approached the window, fifteen feet up from the street. The IR laser in her right eye scanned the window, but there was no heat against it, so she proceeded onto the ledge and sat, much like any other feline, looking for all the world like she was meant to be right there and was completely unconcerned with whatever anyone else might be doing. Her head swung from side to side as she scanned the room inside, radar dish swivelling to point at the computer on the desk. A typical slaver "workspace", such as she had seen before. One of the ones in the multi-layered authority costumes must reside here during the day. No matter, this was not her goal, though it could be useful. She lifted one front foot and exposed a single claw, the micro-edged steel gleaming lethally in the faint light from the building across the way. It etched a careful line around a suitably sized section of the glass, and then she extended all five of her claws and gently stabbed them into the panel. They sunk fractionally into it, and then the panel popped loose with a faint clinking noise. Carefully she stepped through her new entry way, letting the glass down onto the rough and stained carpet without breaking it, then moved over to the computer terminal.

Yes, this must be a manifest of goods, and she knew how to get at it. Lifting her left front foot, she pressed it to the jack she remembered this working with before. A slim little connection device slid out from the wrist and inserted into the jack. She immediately began receiving information. Most of it had to be filtered through her internal search engine, matching keywords to find what she was looking for. A hit came up within a minute. Though she couldn't smile, she was very pleased. After removing her interface device, she stalked across the room to the door, an electronically sealed security affair. She simply climbed up the door as she had the walled and buried her right claws into the keypad and wiggled them for a moment, them dropped down, tearing out a trailing of shredded wires from the now smoking device. She shook her paw daintily as the door clicked and swung open.

The warehouse stood before her. She scanned her eyes across the place, noting the several stacks of likely looking boxes before her image search pinged her that the correct area was in the back. Silent except for the soft clink of metal on concrete, she made her way across the vast and darkened space, avoiding the pools of light that lit a few key junctures of the paths between boxes. It would strike a human how anachronistic the whole place was, as long ago most companies had figured out that lighting the whole room was better, but these were not people who operated in the light most of the time. After what seemed an eternity to the impatient thief, she came across the storage unit she wanted. This was not as secure as it should be, but was also disguised as simple electronic parts. She clawed a small area of the bottom corner to pieces within the span of a few seconds, the micro-edges of her claws meeting barely any resistance from the shipping crate's wood. Then she clambered into the secret space below the standard electronics boards and packing material and emitted a horrible gurgling sound through her voice emitter, which one could generously call a chuckle.

Slowly, she dragged her prize out from the depths of it's 'secure' area, revealing a short tube with an array of wires and a box on one end, connected to a cooling unit. She opened the battery pack deftly and emitted another strangled giggle when she saw that one was already in place. Now the slavers would really begin to suffer. She just had to convince one of them to attach this, and her revenge could commence in earnest. She was busy imagining their burning flesh and horrified screams when the sound of heavy footsteps approaching shook her from her fantasy. NO! Not when she was so close! The beam of a flashlight swept around a corner, and fell upon her.

Kevin was not having a good night, though he did not know how bad it was about to get. Sheila had broken up with him this morning, and he had had no desire to come into work, but considering the people he worked for, missing a shift meant going missing, and he had much less desire to end up at the bottom of the river. So he had come in. Paul was passed out in the front gate shack, so it was up to him to patrol the interior. Help was less than a few minutes away, in the form of five heavily armed and augmented toughs, but they usually played cards unless something went wrong. He himself had an autopistol, so he never worried too much, though if the police ever showed up he would definitely try and feign ignorance, as he had a vested interest in staying alive and out of jail. When he went to investigate the noise from the back that sounded like a paper shredder, and he figured rats, he was not exactly dutiful in calling for backup. He strolled along cautiously, but he was not at all prepared for what his flashlight illuminated, and he stood dumbfounded as Mittens hissed, a sound made all the more horrifying with the electronic accent from the modulator. The pause was all she needed.

She spent some time eating some of Kevin, because she had not fed yet tonight and her energy reserves were running low. After finishing, she licked herself clean, gathered up her newfound toy, and out of necessity walked out of the building on her two hind legs, something she despised doing but would not disdain from in light of its utility. Paul never woke up in time, and the skavers would find two of their own dead in this place in the morning. As she searched her small databank for local chopshops, she made her horrible laugh again into the night.

The revolution had begun!


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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Wed Sep 07, 2016 10:46 am 

The dreaded clopening shift.

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At the very top of a mid-rise apartment block, Igor Murray sat, silhouetted due to the darkness that was the New York City night. He was too high for streetlights, and other than the lone light shinning from the entrance of the staircase leading to the top of the building, as well as the lighted windows of the apartment rooms below, it was very dark. But that was the benefits of having an augmented right eye; it allowed Igor to see even in night-vision (very important to the man's career), which was why he was able to perch himself on the thick stone border around the edge of the building. It prevented people from falling off, even while drunk, and by that time those thoughts were no longer on his mind.

It was peaceful and quiet, and when it was not raining Igor liked to come up here, to think. Heights were always a comfort to him, and like a cat he always liked to perch himself on areas as high as possible, so that he would get a good view of his surroundings, enough to at least prepare if anything should occur. He was friends with heights; the higher he was from ground, the stronger, more confident he was. That was where his talents lay as well; the higher he was, the more effective he was in combat. Still though, one could never be more careful during these dangerous times, so he took his sniper riffle with him. It was close to useless in close combat, but at least he felt safer with it on his person.

These few days, things had been especially boring for him. New York City was his home base, and he was stationed here. On call, for emergencies that required the army sweeping in. Yet it did not seem like the NYPD had everything under control. The crime rate was increasing exponentially, yet he had not been called into service. Of course, crime was the NYPD's area; it was hardly necessary to call the army in, but still though, he had been asked to remain here just in case things turned even more sour. It did mean, however, that he passed his days doing virtually nothing. Already, he was past relaxed-mode, dipping right into boredom, and unless something happened, he did not see any way of extricating himself from it. Bars, TV shows and the internet could only do so much.

He released a sigh as he continued to peer down. Directly opposite his apartment was a warehouse, and it was this warehouse that he set his sights on. It was just something to look at, to past the time, until it was time to go back in to sleep.


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 Post subject: Re: Midnight City [IC]
PostPosted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 6:55 pm 
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Gallante and Vinny chugged along the choked motorways, thick with traffic, as a slight mist began to settle on the streets. It was well into the night now, and everyone was either going home or starting the graveyard shift. They were of the latter, gallante supposed, off to do some business. Though he'd prefer to leave graveyards out of it. Gallante went through some checks on the compact sub-machine gun he picked up from ol Robert, while Vinny focused on the road, silently preparing himself for the job. this would be the first time he'd been out on a hit like this. gallante used to have him run cover jobs, changing ledgers and falsifying inventory so the gang could smuggle supplies from certain businesses. This was usually the job of any non-augmented member of Gallante's family. However, Vinny was around since the beginning, one of the first people who found Gallante when he was small time. One of the few humans Gallante kept in his employ. Despite the attitude he give him, Gallante respects Vinny for sticking around, and decided it was about time to take him on a more important job.

The target was an old associate of the family, a human like Vinny who would help with supply runs. However, he ended up turning on them, revealing his disgust at the mostly all cyborg group, saying he was looking to stop them for the good of humanity. He called in the cops on them and a good three of his men were brought down. Gallante made it out, but ever since then was very distrusting of anyone who wasn't augmented. He figured the cops must have payed him off, or sweetened the deal with a short prison sentence. He thought of himself as the only man with any respect left in the world. A relic of times, he would say. He had no problem with any cyborgs, mostly thought of them as the downtrodden in this society, and wanted to bring them up, give them a good life. And, if that meant he would get some strong grunts to do some dirty work for him, how could he refuse? Some practically begged to join up, wanting some revenge on society. Poor, misguided anger like that was very lucrative for business and he soon whipped them into shape, making a name for himself in certain street level districts.

Vinny slowed the car at a red light and spotted the mark, standing outside of an old general store. Vinny tapped the steering wheel twice and Gallante looked up, spying him out of the corner of his eye. He nodded once and rolled down his window, while Vinny stepped on the gas, peeling out of the stoplight and drifting alongside the sidewalk. Gallante set his gun against the door and opened fire, spraying bits of metal against the front of the store, a path of small dents painted across it as a splash of blood completed the scene. A tragic work of art, bright against the dreary gray of the city at night. There were screams, but they died down as Gallante rolled his window up again, storing the piece in his coat.
"Good work, Vinny my boy, now you're on the trolley! Let's stash this wagon and hide the typewriter, we can have one of the boys pick them up later. Don't want any bulls on our tail."

Later at Jorge's Rust Heap, a junkyard known for taking undesirables beyond that of cars and making them into cubes, Gallante and Vinny drive slowly in, headlights off, as the mist of late night boils over the streets. They pull up to a small, but sturdy shack in a clearing, surrounded by junk of every description, most unrecognizable from what it once was. Gallante stepped out, while Vinny waited inside, and knocked sharply on the door three times. A tall, pale man with shoulder length black hair slowly creaked the door open, spilling out both light and the rhythmic tones of a wrestling match. "What you want, Mr. Gunmetal, sir?" Gallante took his hat in his hands and glanced up at the man, squinting slightly to make out his face, slightly disfigured by large scar running from his right temple to the left side of his jaw. "My good Jorge, I require your assistance in making something very hot disappear for a few days till things cool off, see?" He hooked a thumb behind him toward the car.

Jorge scratched his jaw, then looked down at Gallante inquisitively. "Alright, sure, let's hash out the terms."


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