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8/2/2015 11:02:39 PM
1
((Oh. I guess you're in Centra, then.))
The streets are crowded with business men and women rushing to their workplaces, checking their Tac-Pads and carrying suitcases.
Overhead, dark skyscrapers loom. One has a humongous hologram projector built onto the side of it, which depicts a faulty, neon pink scene of a young Asian girl holding a fancy bottle of soda, smiling. She then flips the bunny-ear fingers and it cuts to a profile of the soda she held, a strawberry-flavored "Whacko Jacko" as some poppy fonts tell you. Advertising.
You hear a metallic clanking behind you and you turn to see two Cyber-Police droids, each adorned in a carbon-fiber vest and toting Kriksboc-19s. They stride jauntily past you, swiveling their mechanical heads to and fro scanning the cityscape.
English
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[i]He continues walking, looking for an entrance to the sewer system. His armored gear stands out amongst the civilians, as does his cloak. [/i]
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You find a manhole in the middle of an alleyway. A man leans against a wall beside it, looking at his Tac-Pad.
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[i]He walks to the manhole, and easily lifts it, plunging into what waits below.[/i]
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You descend into darkness. You do have a flashlight application on your Tac-Pad.
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[i]The night vision HUD in his mask activates as he walks calmly down the tunnel.[/i]
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You find yourself in a rainwater tunnel, a stream of the liquid trickling forwards to the left side of the tunnel. Do you go left or right?
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[i]He walks to the right.[/i]
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You stride down the right passage of the tunnel. After a few turns and a drop-off, you soon find yourself in a large room where an intersecting rain reservoir is placed. There is also a doorway to another room up ahead of the reservoir. Commotion is heard from inside it.
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[i]He enters the door from which the commotion emminates.[/i]
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It is a small room, blank of any details except piping. In a corner, a group of about 4 young men with motorcycle outfits stand around an older man who cowers, crouched. One of the men yells and barks at their cowering acquaintance, looming over him and pointing a long red metallic object at him. "[b][i]You better give us the stuff, geezer! You want this thing in your fuçking throat?!"[/i][/b] the oppressor barks, his victim flinching away.
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Edited by Trashcan Jesus: 8/3/2015 12:15:41 AM[i]The figure looks to them, and says nothing. On each of his arms, four sharp blades extend from the gauntlets, and a blade each extends over his hands. Rushing, he swings and rips the aggressor's throat open, and kicks him to the ground. As the others move to assault him, he braces with his forearm, blades out.[/i]
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((Oh god, I had a pretty big story arc for the aggressor. Sigh...)) The other motorcyclists swing their metal pipes at you, surrounding you 3 to 1.
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[i]He slams the first in the stomach with his blades, and kicks him away. He disarms the second, and cracks him in the skull with his own pipe, hard enough to crack it. He stares at the third, and makes the "Come at me" gesture.[/i] [spoiler]Felt like making a sort of vigilante. [/spoiler]
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The third stares with wide eyes before running out of the room, hyperventilating.
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[i]The man drops the pipe, and looks to the old man, offering him a hand.[/i]
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[b]you see a woman run after the fleeing motorcyclist[/b]
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[i]The cloaked figure follows, sprinting fast enough to pass you. He jumps and tackles the other biker to the ground.[/i]
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[b]She throws you off of him with a telekinetic blast[/b] "He's mine"
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Edited by Trashcan Jesus: 8/3/2015 3:31:52 AM[i]He backs away, and stands, looking at you, confused.[/i]
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[b]picks the biker up by the thoat[/b] "Somebody's about to get flayed alive"
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[i]He looks back disgusted and angered with you.[/i]
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[b]laughs[/b] "What you scared that's a normal reaction" [b]drags the biker away[/b]
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The old man flinches away from him. "No," he says dryly, "get away from me! Take my drugs, just stay away from me!" He reaches into his coat and throws KAP-8 pills at you.
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[i]The figure looks at him strangely, and offers him the drugs back.[/i]
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He ignores you, whimpering as he faces the corner.
