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8/6/2015 9:21:58 PM
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You have received ordinance from Jack: collect human DNA and materials that are either "strong or dangerous."
English
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[i]'Strong or dangerous.' Well, I knew one of each. The psychotic woman on the train came to mind, but it'd be too soon if I never saw her again. That left strong. Fortunately, I had an idea.[/i] Gregori Markov is no scientist, or even an engineer. He has always, however, been very interested in augmented prosthetics. Looking for a strong material isn't a difficult task. After all, his arms are made out of one of the strongest materials per unit of weight around: graphene. [i]I could science babble all day about the stuff, but who would listen? The point is that the stuff is tough and light - roughly two-hundred times stronger than steel per unit. My arms were built out of it, along with a recipe of alloys. They were nearly indestructible. Plus they comes in black[/i] Liberating some graphene from a set of spare parts isn't difficult for Markov. He sets to work over the next day to create a sample. The tram ride that comes afterward is nerve-wracking, but without consequences. When the doors open, a fleet of dirty, hopeless human beings sail forth, each filled with a desperate need to define a better life through a soul devouring employer. Gregori lets himself get carried by the disconsolate crowd toward the Bio-Lab. He rides the elevator up with a handful of others, each of their faces lined with bitterness and despair. Even the ringing bell of the elevator when they reach their destination is flat. Stepping from within the dingy, ill-lit cab, Markov looks around for a scientist.
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You see a man with gelled black hair and glasses, his facial features angular yet smooth. He wears a grey lab coat, tapping away at a holographic literary tablet as he spectates what looks to be a naked human fetus sprout multiple limbs and tongues, seeming to wail behind the plexiglass that surrounds it in the orb it rests in with a gaping mouth. The scientist watches it beside the orb. He seems to documenting its actions. This guy could be some help with mutations.
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Edited by daveyboy_d: 8/8/2015 11:45:50 PM[i]Ethics. Did anybody in this town have any? I watched the glass separating monster from prey. Unfortunately, I was stuck on this side with the monster.[/i] Sick with revulsion, Markov swallows hard and puts on a hard face before moving forward toward the gray-coated man. Compared to the scientist, he looks rumpled and used, perfect for the ruined world outside. "I need something done," Gregori states, "and you look like the man who can do it." As introductions go, it's not the best, but the man still feels ill over seeing the once-human being caged and documented so casually. He holds up his sample of graphene and then tossed it toward the scientist. "How capable are you of splicing that into something like human skin, so that it grows naturally?" Gregori asks. [i]I was looking to build a great big pile of mean, and mean ain't mean unless it can take a hit.[/i]
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The man notices you with raised eyebrows and a straighter back. He fumbles clumsily as he catches the graphene. He studies it after he balances himself, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Um... Yes. Yes, we can splice this." he finally says.
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Those blue eyes watch the man fumble with the graphene. It's slightly satisfying, especially after watching the man document the fetus-thing. "How long will it take?" he questions the scientist, his tone pleased at the news that such a thing is even possible. [spoiler]In case anybody is interested in graphene: [url=https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graphene]link[/url] [/spoiler]
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"At least 8 hours." the scientist responds. "And it'll cost you 4,000 Credits."
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[i]Being broke was a hard game. I needed credits, or an opportunity to get ahead in this nightmare of a city would leave me behind.[/i] "How much is that sample worth, would you say?" Markov asks.
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"Hmm... About 2,500 Credits."
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"I doubt you'll need more than a scraping to put into your Petri dish. Consider it a down payment. I'll be back with more and a subject." [i]Somebody who wanted to be a lab rat would be hard to find, but everything in this city came with a price. Desperation makes everyone willing to bargain eventually. [/i] Gregori turns and leaves, assuming the scientist has nothing more to say to him. Once outside, he pulls his coat tighter around him, as if it can shield him from the grim despair that hangs in the air like smog. [i]I needed someone big, mean, and trained to kill. All I had to do was convince them to get back into the game. Telling them I knew a way to become practically invincible would help.[/i] Markov heads for what stands for the VA in the city. They might now officially help him, but there are always veterans in need. Who better to protect somebody than a soldier?
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As you search, you are informed that all veterans disappear after their service, never to be seen again. Some say that their minds are transplanted into Synth bodies when they're too old, but that's only a rumor.
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[i]I was surprised. I shouldn't have been. The idea of a transplant sounded like a golden reward for services rendered. I was having a hard time choking it down.[/i] Without any luck on the veteran front, Gregori decides to go for a slightly more brutal angle. He heads toward the Sewers, intent on finding somebody willing to do the job.
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You find a manhole billowing musty fog from small orifices poked into its cap in an alleyway. Next to it, a young man sits against a graffitied alleyway wall, sleeping soundly.
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Gregori tilts his head to the side, looking at the young man. He tries to gauge how big he is. [i]Maybe I was getting lucky. If I didn't have to go into the Sewers, I'd be a happy man. I didn't think I was going to end up happy.[/i]
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He looks to be about 5'11, and is elegantly muscled.
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[i]Not a giant, but not bad. Of course, looks aren't everything.[/i] "Wake up, kid," Markov growls. "You and I have a few things to talk about." Up above, it starts raining again. Great big drops that splatter around the man. The sky becomes dark, leaving their dank surroundings lit by only neon and the dull, unhealthy orange glow of a street light.
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The kid snorts as he awakens, startled as heavy rain drops fall on his head. "Ah...? Whaddya want, ya fuçking geezer...?" the kid says drowsily, pawing a sleepy hand at you in a rather sassy "go away" gesture.
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Edited by daveyboy_d: 8/8/2015 2:50:33 AM[i]Kids. They run their mouths before their brains are even awake.[/i] "I'm looking for the toughest, craziest son of a bitch around these parts, kid," Markov says, eyeing the young man under his heavy brows. "It's not you, so where the hell would I find him?"
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"How the fuçk should I know? I don't know anyone here because everyone hates me."
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"You're a reject, then," Gregori notes, looking the kid over again. "What did you do to earn that?" Tears from the sky soak into the frayed fabric of his coat, weighing it down. Dirty rain leaks down hands that will never feel again. It drips into puddles as a dull roar starts around them, a cacophony of water coming down from above in a wall of white. All the time, those blue eyes don't waver.
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"Why the hell do you want to know...?" the kid says, shrugging away from you.
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(( Updated =) ))
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"Because I've got a possible job offer," Markov explains. "And some intense dedication to it. A reject works perfectly...assuming you're any good at protecting somebody." [i]And, of course, willing to become a walking bullet sponge.[/i]
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"I'm no good at anything, old man. Now shove off." The kid then gets up and walks quickly out of the alleyway, hands in his pockets.
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[i]I didn't wait. I leaned back, made the mental adjustments to my prosthetics so they wouldn't kill the kid, and tried to plant a fist in his face.[/i] With a blur, Markov's metal fist comes flying in toward the young man's nose before he turns away. "This is an interview," he informs the punk jovially. "I'm here for your resume."
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The kid falls onto the ground, his nose bleeding. "Ah!" he gasps, "what the fuçk, man?"
