The Best Laid Plans: Gameplay Topic

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

I arrived at Gearheadville, and the city really lives up to it's name. Over the entire buildings are autoshops, some probably with eight bays. Street racing here was the pride and joy, especially if you wan to move up in the ranks of some the street crews around here. Some are just junkies going for thrills, while others, will do anything to win the race.

 

I headed to a nearby shop and entered to find a slick racer up on the lift. It's wheels and chrome coat, couldn't possibly live up to the power under it's hood. I decided to investigate it when the shop manager calls me and says, "Don't touch that car. It's very valuable to this shops racing team."

 

"Racing team?" And here i thought everyone was street racers with no team.

[Techn0geist]

IC: Avolka / Gearheadville - Outside bank

 

'Sure thing. Are you going come back to the workshop with me, see if I can modify anything?' I genuinely was trying to help. I'm really a nice guy underneath all the shady business practices, honest!

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

"I'm rich. Filthy rich. So filthy rich, that I probably need a bath in more riches."

 

Aunae said this to herself as she danced around the rooftop. She'd counted the money she'd received from that Toa. She'd been able to count to a thousand dollars, but there was still more. She didn't know exactly how much, since she couldn't count over a thousand.

 

"I could buy a home in the plaza, and wear nice fancy clothes, and never go hungry again!"

 

She was about to give a shout of joy before a grim thought crossed her mind.

 

Fortis will know. If not Fortis, then someone else. They'll want the money. I have to get out of here!

 

Panic starting to fill her mind, Aunae started to jump to the next roof. Typewriter town probably had an empty building or two she could crash in overnight. Maybe the Gumshoes needed some help, and she could be guarded as one of their sources. That would be nice.

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: "Most agreeable," Gumokk said, writing something on a napkin before handing it over to Song, "Here is the address my associate lost my property. As good a place to start as any I would assume."

 

 

IC: "If it helps I thought your pursuit of the perp was adequate," Krax said, trying to be friendly, "You managed to keep on hi even when he switched the chase to a three dimensional plane

[Samus Aran-Bounty Hunter]

IC: Liluke (Street)

"Sure, why not. Lead the way, sir."

The Maxilos just watches the Ta-Toa, waiting for him to move. Once he does, she'll follow until they reach his shop, wherever it is.

After all, it's tough to find people willing to repair this thing.

Zakaro

[Void Emissary]

IC: Plaza Nuva

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed," I reply brusquely, absent-mindedly adjusting my jacket as I did so, "But at any rate, good luck Mr. Ensis; try not to mess up too badly before I get back."

And with that, I'm gone, through the door and outta this place.

Generally, I would walk over to Typewriter Town (a.k.a. The weirdest named sector of Phan-Metru since the Stab n' Grab) and enjoy the sights and sounds of the dying city that I was desperately trying to resuscitate. However, the urgency of the situation requires me to take the chute system over there, and endure the exasperating ritual of having my briefcase (made of protosteel; the metal that invariably sends security into a flurry) meticulously examined for weapons.

But at least someone's doing their job right around here.

Ten minutes of rapid-speed flight through liquid protodermis, and I find myself in the place I try to, as a principle, avoid. I may have nothing against Gumshoes themselves, but their work is not something a Suit wants to be part of, no matter the protection you could acquire from being a contact. The sheer capacity for scandal exploding around you and the rest of your cohorts is too high a risk.

And yet, Suits keep ending up with their crowd. Go figure.

There's a bar in the town, one of many, many, many throughout this place. But this one seems to decent enough liquor, is within walking distance and seems unlikely to send me home with pieces missing. I see two Toa, one gunmetal and red, and the other blue-silver and wearing a leather jacket, both just outside. Leather Jacket walks in first, with Gunmetal lingering for a little while longer.

Well, he doesn't look dangerous. Relatively speaking. I approach the doorway, keeping my gait casual so as not to arouse suspicion, bumping shoulders with Gunmetal before heading inside the bar.

It's dark in here, with the smell of smoke and liquor lingering around everything. I watch as pairs of eyes wash over me, and whispered conversations lower in volume in further. Murmurs of "Suit" waft through the air, but I take no notice, settling myself into a corner booth so deep in the dim light that I practically melt into the shadows.

And now, we wait.

OOC: Gunmetal is Drox, and Leather Jacket is Varren, by the way.

-Void

[Snelly]

IC: Leyana

 

I knew he was just trying to cheer me up a bit, and it was working, a little. "Well thanks, I suppose I did do a good job at keeping right on his tail. Though it would have helped if I had thought of what to do once I was airborne...he had totally control of the situation once I was hanging off of him..." I wasn't afraid to admit I had totally screwed up in that regard, since it Krax had already witnessed the whole thing it wasn't like trying to make it sound better than it was would help me any. And I prefered to be as honest about myself as possible.

 

"Next time I'll just shoot him down."

[Krayzikk]

IC:"Indeed."The Psionics Toa gave a brief look over the address, memorizing it, before it vanished in a slight flash. "Well then. If that's it, I have a few things to attend to before I get started."

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

"Yeah. We're the only one that does this. Everyone else just sponsors someone or whatever. Where in need of anther driver since our other one is jailed."

 

This could be the opportunity I've been waiting for. A way to finally get all my money back and take a position in this city.

 

"Sure I'll join your team. Just tell me where to start."

 

"Well for starters, do you know how to manage a car?"

 

I've completely forgotten about that.

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

"Well then, welcome to Ignika Motors."

[Techn0geist]

IC: Avolka / Gearheadville - Streets

 

'Okay.' I jumped on my Hoverboard, turn back to Liluke, and grinned.

 

'Try to keep up.'

 

I've had years to optimise my board. One of the fastest things on no wheels. It'd be hard, even for a Maxilos, to match my pace.

[Elrond of Rivendell]

OOC: Just so you know, I won't be on much for the next few days. Varren has bunnying permission for my character while I'm gone.

 

IC(Drox,Just outside Typewriter Town bar): Just what I needed: a Suit.

 

Suits were never a rarity around the bar. Reporters would invite them here to blackmail them, gain information if they were squealing, or to get a mercenary reporting job. However, a Suit seemingly walking in without an appointment was rare, especially for an obviously higher-up like this one was. Suits tended to avoid this place when necessary, due to the fact that there was high chance of being either smothered with questions, or spyed upon. There were so many listening devices in this joint, stepping on them was as common as stepping on a nut shell, which was also incidentally pretty common here.

 

Suit settled himself in a corner booth, away from most of the reporter crowd at the bar. Reactions ranged from subtle looks to not-so-subtle stares. Some didn't even look, which usually meant that they were using a bug in the booth. But no one approached him. Good. I love competition, but not for merc contracts. Things could get dirty with too many cooks in the kitchen.

 

I casually bumped into Varren, whispering a quick message: "There's our target." Without waiting for a reply, I boldly walked up to the Suit, and stuck out my hand, and delivered my entry.

 

"Name's Mantox. Investigative gumshoe, possibly up for hire. Now, what brings a big coat like you down to our little corner of this island universe?"

 

-Elrond

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

Ignika Motors? Ain't this a first.

 

"Can I take her for a test drive?"

 

"Of course, just don't wreck it will ya. This is the only racer that we have."

 

He pushed a button which lowered the left, which was then that I saw the beauty of this car. Single hop in cockpit, digital speedometer, telemetry, the works. I hoped in, and put it in reverse, but I forgot the grab the clutch. Which, was then that I heard something wrong.

 

"Forgot to tell ya that this car is a manual transmission."

 

"Thanks."

 

Some Po-Matoran he is. He awfully wore a mask that was shaped like the Ignika, but I could tell that it is Kakama, with the exhausts coming out if it. I drove out off the garage and onto the streets. I grabbed the clutch and out it in first. I let it go and sped off.

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

Varren stood some distance away from Drox and his new friend, watching over the situation, ready to glare at anyone who decided that a walk over to the booth would be a good idea.

[Canis Lycaon]

IC: Koglar

Cral failed to respond, and Koglar shrugged. He pushed his way through the horde of people, all vying to get to where ever the needed to be, and found himself at the entrance to his paper's building, a high standing tall place- it was quite successful.

 

The Toa of Crystal pushed open the doors, and found himself in a large lobby. The receptionist looked up and said, "Kolgar. The device is on the tenth floor." Kolgar smiled at her, and pressed a button to use one of the elevators.

 

The metal box climbed up, arriving at Koglar's destined floor. He exited, and walked across the room. The tenth floor was full of laboratories, and testing grounds. Matoran, Toa and countless other species roamed the grounds, all wearing lab coats and never looking up.

 

One called Koglar over to a cut off section. Kolgar followed him and found the room with the Antidermis-Detector. It was a medium sized device that had a large dial at the one end. The scientist said, "Hold this close to any Antidermis and the dial will go from green to red, and will have a louder static hiss.

[Samus Aran-Bounty Hunter]

IC: Liluke (Street)

"I'll make an attempt."

That was all she could reply with, it was doubtful the mechanic's hoverboard was just a standard model that she could keep pace with. Liluke was quite sure that the hoverboard instead had been upgraded, probably multiple times-in her experience, a mechanic that hadn't touched their own vehicles to upgrade them or even fix it wasn't to be trusted.

This doesn't mean she can't try.

Liluke settles into position, just waiting for the Ta-Toa's movement.

Zakaro

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

It went up quickly from 0 to 60 in 2.6. I immediately put it in second, making sure to grab the clutch before shifting. It sounded like an Indy car with the acrostic tuning made to the engine. By the way it came out of the clock, this had to be twin turbo with AWD. No way a car can go off the line easy with the horses it's putting out. Probably a V8 as well, since the engine was bleeding my ears. A speed down the road then hit the brakes after meeting the end.

 

I put it in reverse and turned around to the shop. In which I saw two racers come up to me with V10s.

[Techn0geist]

IC: Avolka / Gearheadville - Streets

 

I held up three fingers, flicking them down one at at a time, my Hoverboard beginning to rise with an almighty humming sound. On the last count, I threw my hand down.

 

Had my Hoverboard been capable of stirring up dust, Liluke would be eating it.

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

Ergh I hate it when this happens. I could just take them on in a drag race and beat them, or I could just blow 'em up and be on with it.

 

OOC: I choose the good side.

 

They lined up beside me, and I sped off. leaving them behind.

[Samus Aran-Bounty Hunter]

IC: Liluke (Street)

Three, two, one-

Annnd he's flying ahead of her.

She sprints forward, massive body moving to attempt to catch up to the Ta-Toa, however unlikely it may be.

But hey, perhaps the Maxilos can at the least keep him in sight.

Zakaro

[Canis Lycaon]

IC: Koglar

The Toa of Crystal looked around Gearheadville. Lots of activity had been going on here, and before Koglar dived into the Stab N' Grab to search for Antidermis, he was going to try and find a story. Meet some people, maybe get someone to come with him.

 

OOC:

Open for interaction.

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

Possibly unbeknownst to Koglar, Aunae trailed along behind him. She was following him, but trying to look like she wasn't following him.

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: "If you want my recommendation," Krax suggested, "Go for the mask. I have noticed it tends to drastically reduce the power of being like he who rely on them."

[Makuta of Time]

OOC: Here we go again Varren.

 

IC:

I apparently lost my location,, since I could not find the shop. Either way, I just went down on a leisurely ride. Then I saw a nice long street, and let loose down the road. I started reaching 120, when I saw two figures in the street. I hit the brakes immediately, shifting downward as well. I Barely hit the two, with the nose of the car. There was just one thing I noticed about one of them. One of them was the one I gave my entire savings.

 

What a coincidence.

[Hanako Herupa]

 

IC: Volo

Bar, Typewriter TownDing went the bell above the door as someone else entered. Volo waited till the door had clicked shut again before turning in his seat. The newcomer was scribbling in a notepad: another reporter? He paused after a minute of writing and sighed, covering his forehead in his left hand.Other than a few people sitting in corners, this bar was empty. This was as good a time as any to initiate a conversation.Volo removed the cigarette from his mouth, exhaled the smoke, which twirled in a wavy spiral over his table, and stood."Hey," he said as he approached, twisting the cigarette in the first two fingers of his right hand; a tendril of smoke still trailed from its end. He extended his other hand. "Name's Volo."

 

IC: (Adala, Bar, Typerwriter Town)

 

I stare at my notepad, tapping the eraser against the paper. Tap. Tap. Tap. It's a soothing and mesmerizing sound, I like it, so I continue. It's enough to lull me out of focus and slip into a familiar daydream, some pleasant, something removed from all of this.

 

I see the corners of his lips curving into a smirk as I lay there. His heart beats gently, he chuckles slightly, he's ticklish. I can tell, I'll remember this for later. I feel the warmth of his breath, hands reach down to pull me upwards and...

 

"Hey," The Matoran said, jolting me back to reality. It's the Ta-Matoran I saw earlier and he's extending his left outwards. He's a smoker, a trail of smoke following his cigarette. "Name's Volo." Do I really want him to know my name? Frankly I'm old news by now. I can already tell he's what the people of Phan-Metru like to call a Gumshoe, a real one, not these paparazzi that jump on anything they consider sensational, but as I said I'm old news. So much more important news happening right now. I'm a Gumshoe too, but he's not destroyed like me, he survives. I play off my initial as just a little discombobulation and a sheepish red tinges my obsidian cheeks.

 

"Sorry Volo, name's Adala, pleasure to meet you," I smile and reaching out with my right hand, firmly shaking his smaller hand. "Feel free to grab a seat. What brings you my way?" I push my notes out of the way. Nothing of real use on them anyways, just personal notes. A talk would be good, maybe get my mind straight, hadn't talked to anyone in a while, besides he seems pleasant enough.

 

OOC: Sorry Legolover-361, this weak got busier than I planned, but I should be responding much more frequently now.

Edited April 13, 2013 by Master of Masks

[Techn0geist]

IC: Avolka / Gearheadville - all over the freaking place

 

'Shortcut!' I yelled, riding up on to a wall, and pushing off, side-flipping over to the opposite rooftop. As I lept from roof to roof, I kicked a small switch on my Board, activating a trail of blue light that Liluke could follow. And trust me, she would be following. Assuming I didn't screw up one of these jumps and break my darned neck.

[Samus Aran-Bounty Hunter]

IC: Liluke (Following Avolka {all over the freaking place})

Even as the Toa of Fire flipped himself onto the rooftops, Liluke just plain jumped and caught the ledge with her fingertips, flinging herself over the top and onto the next building. The light-trail made things easier, in terms of following, but that didn't make Liluke any less at a disadvantage.

At least Maxilos leap well.

Zakaro

[Canis Lycaon]

IC: Koglar

The pastel yellow and black figure whipped around to see what was going on behind him. A Toa of an element Koglar didn't recognize was behind him, and so was a Toa of Fire, who was sitting in his car. That Toa have nearly hit the Toa of Crystal. Koglar activated his mask, changing himself into a large member of Axonn's species, keeping the Mahiki. He said, "Normally I disguise myself as a Toa. I don't want a trouble. Learn how to drive!"

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

Mata Nui...

 

Aunae scampered off. Now that whoever that was had seen her, there wasn't any chance of finding out where he lived. Or if he knew a safe place to hid. Or if he had any more money on him.

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

"Sorry, I was her driving too fast." I hopped out of the car. "I was just taking her for a spin after joining a motor company named, Ignika Motors." I can't even tell what this guy is. First a Toa of Crystal, now something that looks like the great warrior Axxon. Somebody better start getting me answers.

 

"So what are you entirely?"

[Canis Lycaon]

IC: Koglar

What appeared to be a massive silver warrior looked at the Toa of Fire. Koglar grumbled, "This. Now get away from me!" Koglar started walking away, trying to get away from the Ta-Toa.

 

IC: Unit #1

Sand lay across the floor of the black market. Only the most highly alert of the patrons of the stalls noticed it, and they paid no attention to it. Which was a big mistake. A very big mistake. If they knew what the sand was, they would be scattering the sand across the floor.

 

One by one, the granules of sand slowly moved to one central spot in the center of the black market. They started to accumulate in one big pile. Individual grains joined the pile, causing it to grow in size. The pile was getting more noticeable, and was being looked at by many.

 

Before any could move, all of the sand quickly whipped into the pile. The pile grew, shaping itself, and forming into a large, humanoid shape. Now, the sand turned into metal, hardening. The shape was now completely discernible. It was a Kranua. A Copper.

 

The patrons and vendors started running, but Unit #1 had other plans for them. A barrel attached to the robot's right arm was raised and pointed. Blue bubbles of energy emerged from it and hit the running criminals. The bubbles incased their victims.

 

The Kranua looked around. Some had escaped him, but many others were lying incapacited in their bubbles. All of the illegal weapons had been confiscated. Another job well done for Unit #1.

 

OOC:

Unit #1 open for interaction in the Stab N' Grab.

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

"Okay, fine." Geez. At least get some common decency to be nice to someone. Too bad he wont get much since somehow that Po-Matoran is calling via a comm link built into the car.

 

"Hey there my man. If you get to Riot Street, there's a race going in there. Some really big cash is going down."

 

Now's the chance to finally get some cash on me.

 

"Hey if you happen to go to Riot street, there's a race going down. If you want to see it, follow me. If not well continue going, wherever it is you're going."

 

For some great warrior, he sure didn't seem too friendly.

[shadow pridak money gang]

OOC: Posting from a phone is not easy. I can't even code fonts on this thing. Have to make this short.IC: Volanara"You wouldn't be king of the Ghetto if you couldn't." she replied. "I'll wait until I see the place to thank you, of course."Ooc: editing for you darkon

IC:

 

"Ye of little gratitude," the saccharine songbird sighed sadly, grabbing hold of a nearby pole-shaped lighting fixture that stretched up from the ground, reaching its apex about six inches from the dimly lit ceiling; the thief spun around on it lethargically, one leg raised and coiled around it like a knot of rope. He spun there for several seconds, finally kicking back and leaning down so that his spine was bent in a parenthesis shape, his face staring back at Volanara cheekily.

"Fine. I'll hit you up in the morning after I find a place. I'll snag us some breakfast. Emphasis on the snag."

IC “Esao.” His partner smiled good-naturedly. “Shut up.” She holstered her gun, squatted down next to the guy Esao had just made rather intimate with his own bag of stolen cash. Taking hold of his wrists, she concentrated for a second. A set of rough handcuffs pulled themselves into existence around his wrists. She stood, brushed metal shavings off her hands, face straight.“Drinks're on me tonight. Unless you'd rather go take some ballet lessons. That was a pretty halfhearted pirouette.”

IC: "If you expect ballet lessons out of me in this lifetime, there'd better be a lot of drinks on you." I took a look back at the thugs on the ground, and then back up again to the roof, where the mook had either bled out by now or strapped some sort of tourniquet to his screwed up thigh. Chances that he would walk or play sports normally again: minimal. But then again, there wasn't a lot of walking you could do in a prison cell. Or a lot of Kolhii sticks you could find lying around in Maximum Security. Or a lot of bending you could do if you dropped the...anyway. It was no longer my problem; it had become his the moment he turned around and tried to pop off on your boy. "Think we should scamper to the bar, let some beat cop book this one? My body's already great enough without another commendation hanging from it." IC: When juxtaposed against the gritty, smeared greys, blacks and whites of the Stab 'N' Grab, the rust-coated streets of Gearheadville, and the epileptic, multicolored Ghetto, the Plaza Nuva was sort of what would happen if an artist was creating a non-objective masterpiece, walked away, and his young, overeager assistant ruined the piece by painting a picturesque scene of a city centre. It was large and vivacious, laced with birdsong and the chattering of upper middle class and one percenters traveling to their places of higher education, to grab breakfast at a cafe, to attend business meetings, or even just into one of the large parks strewn throughout the city like chocolate eggs in a children's egg hunt. It was one such egg, emerald green and speckled with the colors of various Matoran, Toa, Turaga, and even Skakdi and Vortixx, that an empty Suit stared down on longingly with cold opal eyes, sucked clean of emotions and identity like the shells of oysters long ago. They were misty and cold eyes, and they snapped to attention at a certain change of the pitch in the murmuring that had swept across the room. The Suit, a member of the Committee on Community Revitalization and Refreshment (might as well go for three R's and tack on Redundancy to the end, a small speck of humor in the Suit's head snickered to itself before blinking out) processed the dull buzzing he'd heard in his ears for several seconds, translating it into words before drawing his own conclusions and looking up. "What do you mean, it's 'in the chutes?'" The buzzing shushed itself. The two men standing looked distinctly uncomfortable with the query; one, a man with a shovel-shaped jaw and a wide face so used to meaningless smiles that it had actually stretched itself to compromise, fidgeted with his fists on the table. The man behind him cleared his throat, shaking away the disuse: he had not spoken since the meeting had been called, and truthfully he looked as though he'd been waiting for just this opportunity to present himself. He was distinctly leaner and had none of the charisma necessary for politics; he balanced his weight evenly, calculating how much each foot could carry and occasionally bouncing over to one so the other could receive a respite from carrying its fleshy burden. "Allow me," the man - a typical cookie cutter physicist, striving for more funds while trying to seem as humble as possible; as soon as he opened his mouth, the entire room had him pegged quite accurately - said, raising a meek hand. "I'm Dr. Frazazi. For many years, one of Phan-Metru's leading experts on Protodermis, its properties and its uses. One of my papers was actually--" The empty Suit snored sardonically, the same spark of humor lighting in his soul for another moment; several snickers and low chuckles echoed through the Committee, and now the man standing in front of Frazazi looked distinctly uncomfortable at having called the quorum only to have the chief expert mocked and derided by the very people who were supposed to lend his words the most gravity. The scientist himself seemed more undeterred by the tough crowd (maybe he'd had this type of reaction before) and cleared his throat, speaking again. "Yes, well..." he began anew with slightly more gusto, "in answer to your previous question, I think it's quite simple. With the increased chute glitches - which have led to near record traffic and accident totals over the past seven months alone - and that four of the nine currently hypothesized sites for the initial Antidermis leak are at or near major transportation centers, my lab took samples - with money funneled from your paychecks, as a quick aside. Cheers for that." Now there was dumbstruck silence, not just at the claim that the labs were now laundering their money, but at the hypothesis that the lab was putting forward. Frazazi recognized the disquiet for what it was: fear. With that in mind he withdrew a small remote and pressed a red button in the top right, creating a small map of an Antidermis culture and long, sophisticated looking lab squiggles in a variety of columns and rows beside it. Instantly, the attention span in the room began to wane again, and the doctor flinched, desperate not to lose his audience just as they were starting to pay attention; he zoomed in on the Antidermis itself, plus the first half dozen columns of information underneath. "Some of you may remember that when the Phan-Metru project first 'made it off the ground,' so to speak, we ran several different tests on Antidermis cultures, picked apart what made it tick, and came up with a startlingly large amount of minerals and substances that it shares with Protodermis - hence the similarity in name. Now--" Another yawn. Frazazi looked impatient now, losing his collected calm quickly; it was clear he was running off pure adrenaline, probably mixed with a caffeine patch or five. His bedraggled eyes looked as though they had not been on a dalliance with sleep in days. "Now these are the samples from the Protodermis in the chutes this time, last year," the physicist continued as he pulled up a new culture on the screen, his voice now growly, with a definite edge to it. "And these are the samples now. Compare the data." It was damning stuff, to be sure; eight of the compounds had definite spikes that could not be chalked up to sheer equipment failure, nor could the blame be pushed on margin of error. One particularly observant government mook noticed with a start that the compounds with spikes had one gut-wrenching similarity, and his eyes scanned the cultures a second time, then a third. Frazazi noted the Suit and smiled grimly, pointing with a long, shaking finger at the man who had figured it out as he blew up the cultures. Sure enough, the Suit was right. Every material that had spiked inside the Protodermis of the chutes could be found in high doses inside Antidermis. "Mata Nui," the once-sardonic Suit whispered, his attention now rapt. "It could cripple our infrastructure in weeks." "Would cripple our infrastructure," the physicist replied, looking even wearier as the words left his mouth and the burden of truth left his shoulders, dispersed equally amongst the officials in the room. "And sooner than weeks. Mata Nui, indeed." -Tyler

Edited April 14, 2013 by Tyler Durden

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Enaltai)

"You oughtn't agree to this," I suddenly spoke, addressing Song, my voice laced with an anger as dark and deep as the Sea of Protodermis. I didn't like talking harshly, nor loudly. If I disliked something, I'd hide it away and then spit venom about the person I didn't like when said person was gone. This time, though, I was brought to the edge. "Do you know how many addicts there are in the Green? More than you can count. It's people like you," my finger flipped open from a closed fist, now pointing at Gumokk, "that contribute to the horrible state the Suits have pushed us to. It's your entire market and your entire trade. Tell me, have you ever tried Boom? Have you ever seen what it does to people?"

My voice, and my mind, was quivering with the need to grab a chair and slam it into someone's head. All these people who didn't give a single screw about us. All these people made me mad. And somewhere within me, an urge, no, a need to replace this whole system the good way or the bad way was slowly rising.

Edited April 14, 2013 by Eduard Bernstein

[Canis Lycaon]

IC: Koglar

After getting out of sight of Flaredrick, Koglar deactivated his mask, turning back into a Toa of Crystal. He leaned against a nearby wall, and pulled out the device. He looked at it for a couple of seconds, and went to the Chutes to get a ride to the Ghetto.

 

Koglar arrived in the Ghetto and flipped on the device. The traces read normal. No Antidermis was nearby.

 

OOC:

Koglar is open for interaction in the Ghetto.

Edited April 14, 2013 by Canis Lupus

[Makuta of Time]

IC:

Someone really hates me. So after being ignored by the shapeshifting giant, I made my way to Riot Street, which I can see why it got it's name. The masses of the people were so crowded, that it almost seemed like a riot. I headed into the crowd and my way to the start line. Many were still coming in, others, already lined up for the action. Every car was different sizes and colors, and engines.

 

OOC: If your a Gearhead and want to join the race, then I'm open for interaction.

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Song regarded Enaltai calmly, slipping the napkin into her pocket. After a moment, she glanced at her client. "I apologize for his behavior. I'll get to work as soon as I finish here."

 

Enaltai, seemingly further enraged by this, started to open his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by the equivalent of a mental slap. When the next words flowed, they were no less calm, but they carried an undercurrent of annoyance. Clearly, you've never heard of me. Song Beskar, more commonly known as the Ace. Former officer of the law, and current private investigator.

 

I've been working on getting these things off the street since you were wallowing in the Ghetto's streets. If I find it, I can get it off the of the street, and at the very least delay its deployment. And, if someone on the Coppers happens to get wind of it, then I suppose they'll have to move in, won't they?

That way, I get paid for finding it, and I get payed for tipping off my old buddies. Now, for the love of Mata Nui, shut. Up.

Edited April 14, 2013 by The Snark Knight

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Enaltai)

Enaltai leaned back, a slightly amused smile on his face. Alright. Just two things, or rather, requests, he addressed her mentally. First, you stop apologizing for my behavior, because that behavior has far too many opportunities to be apologized for. Second, buy me a drink.

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

If I recall correctly, I'm already buying you lunch. I don't think adding a drink to that will be too much of a hassle.

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Enaltai)

Lovely. Now, say... you don't have some way to mentally incite the waiter to come here sooner, do you?

[Highly Suspicious Person]

IC: Virg (Stab 'n' Grab, Black Market)

 

I stood at my client's side as he haggled with some weapons dealer. Or something like that. I wasn't really concentrating on his activities, as this was a particularly shady part of town, and assassinations were fairly common here. Besides, it was an easy assignment anyway. All I needed to do was occasionally glare at the pathetic excuse for a vendor if she began disagreeing with my client. In all honesty it was rather boring.

 

Suddenly, I felt something brush against my ankle. I looked down to see a trail of sand rapidly making it's way to the middle of the room, forming a big pile. Many of the other people in the room had noticed it by now, and a few were swiftly making their way to the exits. Thinking that they likely had the right idea, I shook my clients shoulder and was about to tell him to leave when the rest of the sand seemed to realise that it had been noticed and rushed to the centre of the market.

 

Before I even had a chance to react, the sand-pile had somehow turned into a large and very angry robot that had begun shooting up the entire room with a stun-bubble gun. I reached for my client to take him away and my hand felt something. Something that felt suspiciously like an energy bubble. That complicated things a little. Knowing I could do nothing for my client at this point, I sprinted for the exit and burst through the door, followed by six or seven others. This job was getting a little complicated.