Role Play > Random Role Play

Blanking the Slate

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Serris:
Soren sat on the tattered couch with a bottle of soda in hand. He wrinkled his nose; despite the copious amount of air freshener and the spices from Uziel’s cooking, the sharp ozone-tobacco odor of chemical auto-cigs hung in the air. On the scavenged coffee table were the remains of lunch ó some plastic bowls of take-out ramen and some algae chips.

The program that was being played was some cheesy Spanish language telenova that Uziel happened to be a fan of. Speaking of which, Uziel was in the kitchen directly behind Soren.

“What’s for dinner?” Soren asked.

Uziel tossed some onions onto the hot skillet. “Rice and beans with catfish filets in tomato salsa.”

“Whatever, as long as it gives me energy for work tomorrow.” Soren threw his empty bottle of soda into the recycling bin without even getting up from the couch. “I’m going to work on my stuff.”

The Human got up and walked back to his room. Doctor Schatten’s room was clearly marked by his diplomas on the door. Soren rolled his eyes; he may have been proud of his cyberneticist license but he didn’t flaunt it like Doctor Schatten did.

Soren went to his room and closed the door. His room; the one element of Lanthae he kept. Sure Lanthae was a corrupt, crime-ridden hellhole but it was home. His bed lay in one corner of the room with his personal belongings stored in a dresser at the foot of his bed and in the closet. The space remaining was occupied by a workbench covered with all sorts of electronic bits and bobs.

He looked at the industrial-duty class-1 prosthesis on his workbench. It was pretty banged up but he was certain it was salvageable. Of course, he needed some parts.

Exiting the room, he knocked on Doctor Schatten’s door. The door opened to reveal a rather gruff looking Rhesus Macaque. “What do you want?” It was then Soren noticed that Doctor Schatten hadn’t changed out of his work uniform. His electrified baton and pistol were still clearly visible in holsters on his belt.

“Andyó”

“Doctor Schatten.”

“Doctor Schatten.” Soren emphasized the Rhesus Macaque’s title. “Do you have any spare electroactive polymer actuators for the wrist assembly of an industrial duty class-1 prosthesis? Model number CGE-631?”

Doctor Schatten scowled. “Quit being a brick and find your own fucking parts!” The door was closed in Soren’s face.

Soren sighed. “Well, time to check out the junkyard.” He disappeared back into his room where he retrieved his pistol from his safe and tucked it inside his pocket. The other item in his safe, a souvenir from his escapade inside a Purifier base: a stolen M-19 select-fire rifle Unlike Lanthae, it was relatively easy to get a pistol permit. All he had to do was pass a class and background check. In Lanthae, he had to personally bribe a precinct chief.

He looked at the cell phone on its charger. Picking up his phone, he decided to give Axel a call to see if he had any spare parts he could use.

aabicus (LettuceBacon&Tomato):
It was clear amber skies and warm breezes when Ashley Kinc came home from work at 5:00 pm on the dot. He never worked overtime. As far as he was concerned, he served his time when he was one of the groveling salesmen scrambling for sits and leads from the higher-ups.

Setting his hat on the hook by the door, Ashley tapped a few buttons on his phone and his autostove began pre-heating. He had some leftovers from his date last night with the shy woman from the gym. She wasn't anything special, but the ribs at the steakhouse had been the perfect level of moistness, just the way he liked it.

While waiting for the oven to beep, he slipped his virtual reality headset and sensor shoes on and played a few rounds of Arena of Glory. He'd recently unlocked the poisoned bayonet for his assault rifle and wanted to see some new death animations.

But he'd only just connected to a server when a different notification from his integrated house system popped up. It wasn't the oven; his guest was stirring. Ashley felt a twinge of annoyance, but he turned the console off and quickly got in character. This was his favorite part of a date. Mustn't let video games distract him from the real pleasures in life.

As the heavy door to his cellar slid open, the warm light from his living room revealed a shackled human woman strapped to the wall. The drugs were finally wearing off, and as she looked around the room her confusion was slowly being replaced with terror.

"Hello again," he greeted, smiling warmly and causing her to jump. "Did you sleep well?"

The woman gasped. Or tried to; a muffle was preventing her from opening her jaw or fully using her windpipe. Her eyes widened as the gravity of her situation dawned on her.

Ashley helped himself to her body. He let his fingers run along her dark brown skin, tasted the fear in her sweat. The woman began crying (they always did at this point) but the muffle kept her quiet enough. Ashley played with his toy for hours...they always fought so hard at first, then slowly the hours wore them down. Ashley always felt disappointed when their inner strength finally gave out and they slumped, broken and unresponsive to his touch.

When that happened to this one, he granted her a second wind through application of a multi-tailed whip. His current date cried herself hoarse as he flogged her mercilessly, slicing open her skin in a hundred different places. Then he graduated to knives. Then meat hooks.

Finally, as the sun finished setting on the outside commune, Ashley took a deep breath and observed the shredded remains of his handiwork. This one had lasted longer than any guest before; he'd had to bring out almost every tool in his chamber. It was his best date yet. The emotional release was palpable, and he savored the satisfying feeling. He wouldn't have to kill again for at least a month.

Then Emilena shot him in the back with a silenced submachine gun. "Ashley Kinc," she announced, as he spasmed in pain and fright, recoiling at the sudden intruder's emergence from the shadows. "Your crimes are recorded, and your punishment is left to the mercy of the Seryet Police Department."

With a cold look, Emilena locked eyes with the terrified Andalusian Horse and emptied her clip into his chest.

bushwacked:
The fading light of the day managed to poke its way, here and there, through small patches on the window where the grime and grease was slightly less dense. From somewhere outside, the high, mechanical scream of a passing train rose to a piercing screech, and the paper thin glass rattled in its frame. After a while, the train’s cries faded away and the dull, distance moan of traffic replaced it, accompanied by the more immediate sound of metallic squeaking and the occasional grunt.

What little light that did make it through was able to, just about, push back the gloom that shrouded the room, its glow thin and hesitant as if unwilling to permeate any further into the tiny apartment. Just below the window, a clunky, cheap TV was perched precariously on a small stand that was struggling to take its weight. A frayed cable wound its way down and snaked across the dusty, stained grey carpet, swerving out of the way to avoid the occasional crumpled beer can or takeaway carton. The cable jammed itself into a socket next to a small, dull yellow fridge. The door hung slightly ajar, revealing a few more cans of cheap, budget-priced beer and a carton of milk that was slowly warming its way to room temperature. Adjacent to the fridge, a doorway led into another room and, as the light peered inside it was able to illuminate a tiny bathroom that was only just able to fit a narrow shower, toilet and sink – and maybe a person, if they squeezed in.

The sound of grunting and heavy breaths became quicker.

Opposite the bathroom doorway, a thin set of drawers hugged the wall, on which a small cell phone was lying. Above the drawers, a metal rail had been hammered into the wall, which was being used as a place to hang t-shirts, jeans and other worn looking clothes. A few had fallen off the hangers and lay crumpled on the floor. Next to these, a rackety metallic bed was shoved into the corner of the room. The loose, wearing springs screeched rhythmically as the two shapes writhed on the threadbare mattress and thin sheets, one straddling the other. The rate of their movements increased, the shape on top pushing down harder and faster.

Finally, the thin figure below gave a last groan, bucked once, twice, three times, then lay back still. For a moment, the only sound drifting through the small apartment was the sound of the breathing. From the streets below came the light, distant sound of a car honking its horn, the vague sounds of an argument.

The shape on top gave a sigh and rolled off, clambering off the bed, moving closer to the light and revealing it to be a woman, her blond hair slightly straggly, the make-up she wore making it hard to say how old she was.  The dim light cast a sheen to the curves of her body as she looked down, and then over her shoulder at the person still in the bed.

“I need to clean up.”

The figure in bed shrugged, the bed springs giving another squeak as he sat up, leaning back against the wall. As the woman drifted into the bathroom, the shape in bed leaned over and pulled open the first set of drawers, pulling out a small carton and a lighter then resuming his slumped position against the wall as the sound of water splashing and toilet paper tearing came from the other room. A click, and the flash of flame as he lit the cigarette briefly showed a thin white rat, his messy hair falling over his blue eyes. Then it was gone and his features were once again concealed by gloom, the glowing end of the cigarette seeming to hover in front of his silhouette.

The woman padded back into the room, moved to the foot of the bed and started to pull her dress back on as the rat watched her in silence. When she finished, she stood up and cocked her head at him.

“So?”

The rat waved an arm to the drawer. “Same place as before.”

She crossed to the drawers and pulled one open and fished out a wallet, pulling out a handful of notes. She counted it, then nodded to herself and slipped it away. Heading for the door, she turned back to briefly look at the shadow leaning on the bed. “Same time next week?” From the tone of her voice, it was clear that it was a question she was used to asking.

A small pause. “Maybe.”

The woman snorted, as if in expectation of his answer. “At least clean your windows next time, I can’t see shit in here.” Rolling her eyes, she swung open the door, her shoes clicking as she stepped onto the wooden floor of the grimy hallway beyond, then pulled it shut after her, leaving the rat alone.

Axel sat in silence, staring at the door. As he dragged on the cigarette, his eyes started to wander around the room. He reached up and flicked a switch on the wall to his left. A solitary, bare bulb overhead flickered into life, casting a dusty glow on the state of where he was living. A muscle in his scarred cheek tightened, and he quickly switched the light off again.

The cell phone on the drawers suddenly chirped to life, and Axel jolted, recoiling against the far side of the bed, his shoulder knocking against the wall before his eyes narrowed on the small device vibrating on the wood. Axel’s expression darkened. “For fuck’s sake…” Taking a deep breath, he slid off the bed and picked up the phone, wandering closer to the window as he flipped it open and saw Soren’s ID on the screen. His expression grew slightly distant, his metallic hand moving slowly up the device to hit the RESPOND button. “Soren,” Axel said, his voice dull as he heard the human’s voice on the other end. Reaching the glass, Axel rubbed an arm across the surface, sweeping the grime away and revealing more of the sprawling city of Seryet far below him. The daylight, though fading as the sun sunk lower into the horizon, now poured in with renewed strength, revealing Axel’s lanky body.

 His ribs jutted out prominently, and here and there dark bruises were just beginning to fade. The blue glow of his eyes penetrated the lank white hair that hung over them. They were lined with dark bags, combining with the faint scars crossing his thin features to give his stare a slightly threatening look. His tail hung limp to the floor, and the rat’s left hand compulsively tightened into a fist and loosened again. Tightened, loosened.  His originally young face had grown drawn in, gaunt. In the year since Lanthae, his face had grown to look like someone much older than 22.

He shook his head to himself as Soren’s voice continued. His left ear, a long white mark along its base showing where it had been crudely sewn back, hung at an odd angle and twitched when he moved. “Actuators… No. No, I don’t think so. Sorry.” Axel muttered, looking around him. If he could feel another bout of anxiety creeping closer, burying himself in augmentation work could keep it at bay, and scattered around the apartment lay random assortments of augmentation parts he’d assembled in an effort to keep the panic attacks away… sometimes it worked. So in all likelihood Axel did have some of the parts Soren needed – but he couldn’t face seeing him again so soon. Only last week Axel had gone up to see him, and the anxiety for the next couple of days had been particularly bad. What triggered it seemed utterly random to Axel; phrases, sounds, smells. Small things that brought back memories of what he’d been through…

Axel took another deep breath, bringing his mind back to the present as he realised he hadn’t said anything for a while. “See you later Soren,” he said and abruptly hung up. Glancing at the time on the screen, he saw it was getting on for 6 PM - almost time to get to work. Bending, the rat picked up his ruffled clothes from the floor and started to tug them on, his body bent as if under immense pressure.

Nick22:
marita took a swig from a soda can sitting on the desk her face illuminated from the glow of a computer screen. she sighed, her eyes tired from staring at the screen from so long, a small window looked out from the room, her small flat  was on the 6th floor of a 10 story apartment complex ' the flat was smaller than the one she had in lanthae, and the rent was more expensive. but there was one small consolation.
Marita wasnt living by herself.

she had reconnected with an old girlfriend - Rose, who was currently on her way home from theater rehearsal. Rose was currently going through the very difficult process of biproxytol detoxification, which was extremely expensive and painful, the longer you had been hooked on it the longer it took to clean you out from the drug. marita had undergone the process herself after graduating from college. it had not been fun, but - for her at least- it worked completely. her other roommate  marie had been a co-worker of Rose at a strip club called the electric sheep. she had been a waitress thee, servong drinks in a skimpy bikiini. after the club had been destroyed, she had latched on with  rose and Marita,surviving the pulse emp  and settling down in Seryet city. marie now worked as a grocer , bagging groceries. it wasnt much, but at least she wasnt oogled and fondled at this job. between Maritas computer gig ( she cleaned out computers of junk spyware, porn sites malware, keyloggers, the list was just about endless), Roses theater roles and Maries credits from her job, the 3 made enough to pay the rent, just barely. every extra credit went to Roses detox, they had set up a payment plan that would require every extra credit they could scrap together for roughly 20 years. but it was working, roses teeth were returning to the bright white color they had been, her face was losing the large bags under the eyes associated with biproxytol use, she had more energy and pep, and- most importantly to marita- her breath was getting better so that she and marita kissed it didnt smell or feel like she was kissing an ashtray.
 the door opened and close and Marita heard Marie call to her ' Hey! I'm home' the light flickered on in the kitchen, and Marie put a large pile of groceries on the table ' bought these off the half -off rack. still fresh, they were just made yesterday' marie said as she went into the entryway top the kitchen. Marita turned and saw a very fetching golden retriever, wearing a apron and green outfit,  a large nametag hung above her right breast, spelling out her name ' hows your new boss? Toors? right? " right hes a boa constrictor. nice chap on the whole.  things are going well,  hes cutting down on inefficiencies, and  sales  are up month to month, so the extra money trickles down to the cashiers and grocers. not much mind you, but an extra 250 creds  over a month means a lot to us.'
 he gets most of that I take it? Marita said. ' yeah a lot, but hes responsible for the whole store. anyway hes better than that macaw that was there when i first started . Penny. what a bitch she was. short -tempered and anal. next a good combo. anyway, how goes the computer business?
- working on cleaning a series of computers from a local business, its taking longer than i thought. all sorts of viruses and malware on there..  i've been whacking at it since 7 this morning and i;m still only 80% done.' but i might as well take a break and grb something to eat. ' i'm been living up a few cabns of pop . marita said. '

Serris:
"Thanks for trying bud." Soren hung up the phone and headed out of his room. It looked like he'd have to go to Egeson Street.

He groaned as he heard Doctor Schatten and Uziel argue about who has to sacrifice what to pay the rent this time. Soren knew all too well about this; he had resorted to selling the six-pack of moziafil for 1,000 creds he had bought two months ago to pay last month's rent -- a fraction of the actual price it was worth on the street but haggling with a shady street vendor who may or may not be armed was not a smart move. Despite their poverty, their furniture was actually rather nice.

Soren looked at the real sealskin footstool was in front of the flat-screen TV. Of course, they hadn't bought it; they had stolen it. It wasn't easy to come up with the 20,000 creds it took to bribe the bellhop to let them into the apartment building where a rich biotech executive had committed suicide but they managed to haul away some rather nice electronics and furnishings for their own use.

He shut the door and stepped out into the street. Unlike Lanthae, the houses at the edges of Seryet City were on elevated concrete platforms like much of the buildings in the core of Lanthae. That said, below him were numerous pipes and other infrastructure, including pedestrian walkways.

A gentle rain, illuminated by the cold white light of LED streetlights drummed against the grimy sidewalks. The air carried the distinct swampy-ocean odor of vertical farms.

Flipping the hood on his windbreaker up, Soren headed over to a call station and pressed the button. As he awaited the automated repulsortaxi, he wondered how his friends were doing.

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