Non Specific
- A Day In the Life [Faze] -
Flashes of neon greens and blues lit the interior of an otherwise dim tram cabin as it flew between bridges and tunnels at blistering speeds. Four figures were making their way from one section to the next, two were leading the way, chatting to one another while the other pair hung back a number of paces, silent. "Red, man, I cannot believe how fucking easy that run went. Not a shot fired, not a hint of heat on us." The drawf woman rubbed at her nose with a wide show of her filed teeth as she finished speaking. She had a dark complexion with a mess of brown dreds spilling down her shoulders, not that either hid the amount of chrome and cyber she was sporting in that head of hers. She was the party's resident netbreaker; if there was something to be jacked or hacked, Calista was the answer. Spinning on her heels she pointed a finger at a tall man hanging in the rear, wearing a grey oni mask and a thick black shawl to cover his torso and waist. "You got the package, right, newbie?"
Singled out, Faze held up a slate red data drive in gloved digits to show the drawf 'the goods', returning it to within the confines of his person after she resumed facing forward, seemingly satisfied. Compared to Calista, standing beside her was Red, an imposing street samurai with a crimson motif attached to his punk attire. His most noticeable trait was his chromed out legs, showed off by wearing only a pair of red basketball shorts. "Hey, shrimp, we're ain't outta da woods yet. Still gotta get to da dead drop." He spoke gruff and low, but even with his hand gripping the sword at his hip, his overall demeanor was somewhat relaxed with each step further into the train. "Yeah, but the whole line is deserted, we're the only customers." A short series of laughs at her joke, since she'd hacked the ticket operator terminal for free passes.
"Use your head, Cali, for something other than netbreaking." Their final party member quickly rebuked, her voice sharp and accented with Slavic roots. The woman who was perhaps a step ahead of Faze, and a few inches shorter had features hidden by the navy blue hood of her coat, but Faze knew her to be quite the looker. The runner's leader, Lhara, a shaman who could channel old-world spirits and magics by using bizarre totems and chants. Faze was no spell slinger himself, but he kept rare respect for the few and far between that could. "Even at three in the morning, the red line to the blackout district should have someone besides us riding it. There isn't a damn soul here." Several feet closer to her team, of which Faze was not truly a part of, he was their ringer, so to speak, playing the role of scout and infiltrator. Red and Calista stopped in their tracks at the sudden outburst of their leader, turning to engage in the conversation. "This whole operation stinks, and I...."
A deafening bang echoed through the metal chamber, viscera showering Calista in the face and eyes as she was first to turn around in time to see Faze blast a fist-sized hole through Lhara's face with his bolt pistol. The breaker stumbled backward in shock, landing on her rear as she rubbed at her eyes, trying her best to clear her vision. A lesson to learn from this, if one was watching the scene and privy to the details, would be not to vocalize suspicions of a seemingly clean run, especially when one had their back to a relatively unknown fresh party member.
Like a puppet with its strings cut, Lhara's body slumped to the floor with a sickening thud. "A little early, but she was starting to catch on." Faze spoke in a calloused tone, holstering the bolter within with cloak. Red's features were a mix of emotions, though he was heavy on confusion and rage.
"What da fuck, man! Why did ya ice her?" His blade out, he reached out with a free hand and pulled Calista behind him to guard her while she tried in vain to see. In response, Faze whipped open his shawl in a fluid motion and revealed his grip on the sheathed katana at his hip.
"Sheet, you a sam like me. Fuckin scout my ass." Red spit on the dirty metal plates of the flooring and put one foot forward, leaning into it and placing both hands on the grip of his sword in a stance to strike.
Faze stood his ground, showing no change in his own form, though, he would uncharacteristically reply to Red. "You were all dead before I even came to join your crew. You are all the patsies to take the fall in the robbery. I'm merely the cleaner to ensure it happens." Faze knew of Red's opening attack. It was intended to be a one-hit kill, using his artificial legs to sprint faster and hit harder than his opponent could react to. Thumb on the hilt guard, Faze readied himself for the move.
In an instant, Faze had swung his blade and resheathed it, behind him Red lay face down in a growing pool of his own blood. A shattered katana, and part of his skull sliced clean through, Faze might not have had the chrome limbs, but he had skill beyond anything Red could muster, and a katana that was worth more than most of the cyber in his body.
"Red? RED!" Cali howled, finally managing to squint through one eye. Her Krupp auto pistol was drawn and unloaded in Faze's direction. Nothing connected, the projectiles either missing their mark entirely or being deflected by agile movements of his blade, never being fully removed from its sheath. "Nothing personal, Cali, it's just business." Faze, before the now cowering woman did not hesitate in cutting her down like her teammates. Wiping his blood slick sword clean on the inner crook of his elbow, Faze sheathed his weapon and eft a dummy harddrive of what he'd been paid to steal, along with his usual calling card amongst the corpses. These jobs always left a bitter taste in his mouth, but better to be on the giving end of these situations than the receiving.
Bills to pay, mouths to feed, especially in these uncertain times.
Singled out, Faze held up a slate red data drive in gloved digits to show the drawf 'the goods', returning it to within the confines of his person after she resumed facing forward, seemingly satisfied. Compared to Calista, standing beside her was Red, an imposing street samurai with a crimson motif attached to his punk attire. His most noticeable trait was his chromed out legs, showed off by wearing only a pair of red basketball shorts. "Hey, shrimp, we're ain't outta da woods yet. Still gotta get to da dead drop." He spoke gruff and low, but even with his hand gripping the sword at his hip, his overall demeanor was somewhat relaxed with each step further into the train. "Yeah, but the whole line is deserted, we're the only customers." A short series of laughs at her joke, since she'd hacked the ticket operator terminal for free passes.
"Use your head, Cali, for something other than netbreaking." Their final party member quickly rebuked, her voice sharp and accented with Slavic roots. The woman who was perhaps a step ahead of Faze, and a few inches shorter had features hidden by the navy blue hood of her coat, but Faze knew her to be quite the looker. The runner's leader, Lhara, a shaman who could channel old-world spirits and magics by using bizarre totems and chants. Faze was no spell slinger himself, but he kept rare respect for the few and far between that could. "Even at three in the morning, the red line to the blackout district should have someone besides us riding it. There isn't a damn soul here." Several feet closer to her team, of which Faze was not truly a part of, he was their ringer, so to speak, playing the role of scout and infiltrator. Red and Calista stopped in their tracks at the sudden outburst of their leader, turning to engage in the conversation. "This whole operation stinks, and I...."
A deafening bang echoed through the metal chamber, viscera showering Calista in the face and eyes as she was first to turn around in time to see Faze blast a fist-sized hole through Lhara's face with his bolt pistol. The breaker stumbled backward in shock, landing on her rear as she rubbed at her eyes, trying her best to clear her vision. A lesson to learn from this, if one was watching the scene and privy to the details, would be not to vocalize suspicions of a seemingly clean run, especially when one had their back to a relatively unknown fresh party member.
Like a puppet with its strings cut, Lhara's body slumped to the floor with a sickening thud. "A little early, but she was starting to catch on." Faze spoke in a calloused tone, holstering the bolter within with cloak. Red's features were a mix of emotions, though he was heavy on confusion and rage.
"What da fuck, man! Why did ya ice her?" His blade out, he reached out with a free hand and pulled Calista behind him to guard her while she tried in vain to see. In response, Faze whipped open his shawl in a fluid motion and revealed his grip on the sheathed katana at his hip.
"Sheet, you a sam like me. Fuckin scout my ass." Red spit on the dirty metal plates of the flooring and put one foot forward, leaning into it and placing both hands on the grip of his sword in a stance to strike.
Faze stood his ground, showing no change in his own form, though, he would uncharacteristically reply to Red. "You were all dead before I even came to join your crew. You are all the patsies to take the fall in the robbery. I'm merely the cleaner to ensure it happens." Faze knew of Red's opening attack. It was intended to be a one-hit kill, using his artificial legs to sprint faster and hit harder than his opponent could react to. Thumb on the hilt guard, Faze readied himself for the move.
In an instant, Faze had swung his blade and resheathed it, behind him Red lay face down in a growing pool of his own blood. A shattered katana, and part of his skull sliced clean through, Faze might not have had the chrome limbs, but he had skill beyond anything Red could muster, and a katana that was worth more than most of the cyber in his body.
"Red? RED!" Cali howled, finally managing to squint through one eye. Her Krupp auto pistol was drawn and unloaded in Faze's direction. Nothing connected, the projectiles either missing their mark entirely or being deflected by agile movements of his blade, never being fully removed from its sheath. "Nothing personal, Cali, it's just business." Faze, before the now cowering woman did not hesitate in cutting her down like her teammates. Wiping his blood slick sword clean on the inner crook of his elbow, Faze sheathed his weapon and eft a dummy harddrive of what he'd been paid to steal, along with his usual calling card amongst the corpses. These jobs always left a bitter taste in his mouth, but better to be on the giving end of these situations than the receiving.
Bills to pay, mouths to feed, especially in these uncertain times.
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