Difference between revisions of "Et tu Zeke - RPLOG"
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| − | <div></div> | + | <div></div><br> <br>The small gathering of agents eventually find themselves at the agreed meeting place, The Progress Bar. Every surface in here is stainless steel. Walls, floor, stools, tables... all coldly metallic. You walk in on the lower level, air conditioning blowing away the rotting night air outside. Above you, a steel grille catwalk leads to private booths. There's an empty stretch at the bar, and that's where you drift to. You can see your faces in the steel. as well as your contact, Zeke's haggared appearance. Your coms ping the tired looking lion beast as a member of the survivalists. Clad in old, ill-fitting sweatpants and a torn hoodie, the lion looks up as you all arrive at the scene.<br> <br>Another lion beast heads to the mission location, but this particular feline's fur shines with silver only obscured by the formal tuxedo covering his body. Dio peers around the area, taking mental notes of the curious area until he finally arrives at the target. "Good evening," the lion greets with a gentlemanly formal bow, deep enough to reveal the riot shield secured steadily upon his back. "We have received your request. Shall we go over the details?"<br> <br>Lizzie heads into the agreed building, eyes flicking around the shiny surfaces as she heads over toward where Zeke was. "Fuck, ain't ever been in this bar before. I wonder what the fuckin' house special thing is up in this bitch." She mutters to herself as she heads over toward the.. pair of lion beasts? One haggard and one quite a bit less so. Her own body was just clad in her normal clothing, combat armor stored in her pack along with the horde of drones and other weaponry she favored until it was time to go somewhere actually dangerous. |
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| + | "Heya, Dio. How the fuck are ya?" She asks as she slides into a seat next to their employeer without waiting for an invitation. Her hand waves over toward the bartender, assuming there was one on duty, and she turns toward Zeke with a little grin. "Yeah, who is this bitch, any leads on where to find em, how much does it pay, and what the fuck is the best drink here?"<br> <br>Edel shuffles in rather quietly, her outfit both regal and protective, consisting of a deep blue ball gown overlaid with protective plates. Definitely the work of more of her nanomagic. "Ah... It's been a while since I've gotten to do something. I was getting restless." The brown furred wolf rubs at her ears and glances around the room before making her ways closer to Zeke.<br> <br>Enkei herself yawns upon sight of the drowsy-looking fellow, rubbing her eyes roughly to scrape out tiny, gritty globs of metalic powder and mucous from her eyes' surfaces. Her clothing is the same as always, it seems. A tank top and cargo pants. Carried by one of her long and strong arms is a rather bulky, box-like object with a metal spike on one end. "So... I heard you've got a job for us, yeah? I'm rarin' to go, as you can tell..." She said absently, not even really listening to the lion or the others. "Debrief us, then. I ain't for standing around all night long."<br> <br>Anatia certainly hasn't found this the worst dive she's been in, even outside this wasteland. It almost looks clean, and presentable, and she takes a deep breath of clean air as the human wanders in to meet her newest contact. Anatia's been doing jobs all around the world for some time, and while project 'Survival' isn't her usual forte, here she is, and she may well make the most of it. With an easy shift, she sets her bag down against her chosen chair, kicks her feet up onto the table, and spears the pair of lions with a /look/. She's seen this a thousand times. The rich and the poor. The young and the old. The bankers, and the fighters.<br> <br>"You jokers may as well get it over with. Time is money, after all," she smirks, looking straight at the tuxedo-clad feline. At the sound of Lizzie's little statement, she grins at the only other human in the room, appreciatively. "Gotta say, I think we're going to get along /just/ fine." With a gimlet eye, she assays the situation - one wiseass (or two, with her), one mercenary with nothing to live for, one nutcase who's likely to slip his leash at the first sign of trouble, and one 'Johnson' along for the ride. Perfect.<br> <br>"Right.. thanks for coming guys. I.. I didn't know who else to turn to. Was nice getting out from the heel of the corporations but, well, when you need some help.." he pauses, scratching his matted, tangled mane for a bit. "Anyway, I.. I don't know if you guys.. er girls, whatever, remember Molly Harlequinn. Yeah, I know, it's not her real name but she's worn it as long as I can remember. No? She was a star, back in the day. Well, maybe not a star like the old ones but it didn't matter to me. You should have seen her. I thought I lost track of her after the plague hit. Things were messy, you know? But then.. then I found this." he says as he fishes out an old, crumpled poster from one of his pockets and slides it across the bar. Seems like a flyer for some sex club or others. Cast in black and white there's a bunny girl in what looks like a cage. Chained up and naked, the kemonomimi bunny's sultry mouth is sensually parted, looking like the very poster girl for naughty funtimes. The date on the flyer was only a few days ago.<br> <br>Most of you seem to dimly recall an old soap opera called Days Passing By. The bunny on the poster does look quite a bit like the star of the show. Well, one of them. Before or after the coma though? Or was it her twin sister?! Far as you recall, watching Days Passing By was a depressing experience. It was a lurid little soap opera with people being mean and rotten to each other pretty much for the fun of it - that is, when they're not rolling around under strategically placed bedsheets in just about every combination possible. It's not exactly a testament to the nobility of the human spirit.<br> <br>"Ain't she that soap star? Looks like the bitch is movin' up in the world by the god damn poster. I take it she ain't volunteerin' for the position of house whore so we gotta go find her and drag her ass out if it looks like she ain't in there and wants to be?" Lizzie asks as she looks over the poster a little more. She had been to many bars through the city but they did all blur together sometimes... was this one of the ones? "You been to the fuckin' club and checked shit out or just call our asses over to check this out first?"<br> <br>"Quite well, my lady," Dio responds to Lizzie with a small dip of his head. "I do hope that you haven't gotten into too much trouble since we've seen each other last? I'm afraid it's been nearly a month or so!" The lion lets out a small laugh and pulls up from his bow to tuck and smooth out his formal attire. "And it's nice to see you all as well. And you, my lady," he comments with an eye towards Edel, "What a beautiful dress! But then again, your attire has always been quite impressive." | ||
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| + | Listening to the briefing, Dio pays attention dilligently while he finds a comfortable spot. Such is the curse of carrying something so large upon one's back. "Yes, I see. As a gentleman..." The feline's muzzle raises graciously to the sky as a balled up fist covers his heart in pride. "I simply can't allow such actions to take place. We shall save this lady using all of our skills and strength regardless of the pay!"<br> <br>Anatia raises an eyebrow at the sound of the name 'Molly Harlequin'. "I've heard that name," she muses. "I certainly don't recall much of it, though. Sounds a little like an old history novel. Or history, anyway." The woman kicks her legs off the table, spilling one drink and upsetting others. "Okay. So we're heading out to rescue a little old lady from certain death... or ferality, either way." With a light chuckle, she looks over at the old lion, disregarding the sudden surge of heroism, bravery, and sheer stupidity from Dio. "Half. Up front." | ||
Revision as of 05:15, 17 May 2014
Participants
Date
17/5/2014
Log
The small gathering of agents eventually find themselves at the agreed meeting place, The Progress Bar. Every surface in here is stainless steel. Walls, floor, stools, tables... all coldly metallic. You walk in on the lower level, air conditioning blowing away the rotting night air outside. Above you, a steel grille catwalk leads to private booths. There's an empty stretch at the bar, and that's where you drift to. You can see your faces in the steel. as well as your contact, Zeke's haggared appearance. Your coms ping the tired looking lion beast as a member of the survivalists. Clad in old, ill-fitting sweatpants and a torn hoodie, the lion looks up as you all arrive at the scene.
Another lion beast heads to the mission location, but this particular feline's fur shines with silver only obscured by the formal tuxedo covering his body. Dio peers around the area, taking mental notes of the curious area until he finally arrives at the target. "Good evening," the lion greets with a gentlemanly formal bow, deep enough to reveal the riot shield secured steadily upon his back. "We have received your request. Shall we go over the details?"
Lizzie heads into the agreed building, eyes flicking around the shiny surfaces as she heads over toward where Zeke was. "Fuck, ain't ever been in this bar before. I wonder what the fuckin' house special thing is up in this bitch." She mutters to herself as she heads over toward the.. pair of lion beasts? One haggard and one quite a bit less so. Her own body was just clad in her normal clothing, combat armor stored in her pack along with the horde of drones and other weaponry she favored until it was time to go somewhere actually dangerous.
"Heya, Dio. How the fuck are ya?" She asks as she slides into a seat next to their employeer without waiting for an invitation. Her hand waves over toward the bartender, assuming there was one on duty, and she turns toward Zeke with a little grin. "Yeah, who is this bitch, any leads on where to find em, how much does it pay, and what the fuck is the best drink here?"
Edel shuffles in rather quietly, her outfit both regal and protective, consisting of a deep blue ball gown overlaid with protective plates. Definitely the work of more of her nanomagic. "Ah... It's been a while since I've gotten to do something. I was getting restless." The brown furred wolf rubs at her ears and glances around the room before making her ways closer to Zeke.
Enkei herself yawns upon sight of the drowsy-looking fellow, rubbing her eyes roughly to scrape out tiny, gritty globs of metalic powder and mucous from her eyes' surfaces. Her clothing is the same as always, it seems. A tank top and cargo pants. Carried by one of her long and strong arms is a rather bulky, box-like object with a metal spike on one end. "So... I heard you've got a job for us, yeah? I'm rarin' to go, as you can tell..." She said absently, not even really listening to the lion or the others. "Debrief us, then. I ain't for standing around all night long."
Anatia certainly hasn't found this the worst dive she's been in, even outside this wasteland. It almost looks clean, and presentable, and she takes a deep breath of clean air as the human wanders in to meet her newest contact. Anatia's been doing jobs all around the world for some time, and while project 'Survival' isn't her usual forte, here she is, and she may well make the most of it. With an easy shift, she sets her bag down against her chosen chair, kicks her feet up onto the table, and spears the pair of lions with a /look/. She's seen this a thousand times. The rich and the poor. The young and the old. The bankers, and the fighters.
"You jokers may as well get it over with. Time is money, after all," she smirks, looking straight at the tuxedo-clad feline. At the sound of Lizzie's little statement, she grins at the only other human in the room, appreciatively. "Gotta say, I think we're going to get along /just/ fine." With a gimlet eye, she assays the situation - one wiseass (or two, with her), one mercenary with nothing to live for, one nutcase who's likely to slip his leash at the first sign of trouble, and one 'Johnson' along for the ride. Perfect.
"Right.. thanks for coming guys. I.. I didn't know who else to turn to. Was nice getting out from the heel of the corporations but, well, when you need some help.." he pauses, scratching his matted, tangled mane for a bit. "Anyway, I.. I don't know if you guys.. er girls, whatever, remember Molly Harlequinn. Yeah, I know, it's not her real name but she's worn it as long as I can remember. No? She was a star, back in the day. Well, maybe not a star like the old ones but it didn't matter to me. You should have seen her. I thought I lost track of her after the plague hit. Things were messy, you know? But then.. then I found this." he says as he fishes out an old, crumpled poster from one of his pockets and slides it across the bar. Seems like a flyer for some sex club or others. Cast in black and white there's a bunny girl in what looks like a cage. Chained up and naked, the kemonomimi bunny's sultry mouth is sensually parted, looking like the very poster girl for naughty funtimes. The date on the flyer was only a few days ago.
Most of you seem to dimly recall an old soap opera called Days Passing By. The bunny on the poster does look quite a bit like the star of the show. Well, one of them. Before or after the coma though? Or was it her twin sister?! Far as you recall, watching Days Passing By was a depressing experience. It was a lurid little soap opera with people being mean and rotten to each other pretty much for the fun of it - that is, when they're not rolling around under strategically placed bedsheets in just about every combination possible. It's not exactly a testament to the nobility of the human spirit.
"Ain't she that soap star? Looks like the bitch is movin' up in the world by the god damn poster. I take it she ain't volunteerin' for the position of house whore so we gotta go find her and drag her ass out if it looks like she ain't in there and wants to be?" Lizzie asks as she looks over the poster a little more. She had been to many bars through the city but they did all blur together sometimes... was this one of the ones? "You been to the fuckin' club and checked shit out or just call our asses over to check this out first?"
"Quite well, my lady," Dio responds to Lizzie with a small dip of his head. "I do hope that you haven't gotten into too much trouble since we've seen each other last? I'm afraid it's been nearly a month or so!" The lion lets out a small laugh and pulls up from his bow to tuck and smooth out his formal attire. "And it's nice to see you all as well. And you, my lady," he comments with an eye towards Edel, "What a beautiful dress! But then again, your attire has always been quite impressive."
Listening to the briefing, Dio pays attention dilligently while he finds a comfortable spot. Such is the curse of carrying something so large upon one's back. "Yes, I see. As a gentleman..." The feline's muzzle raises graciously to the sky as a balled up fist covers his heart in pride. "I simply can't allow such actions to take place. We shall save this lady using all of our skills and strength regardless of the pay!"
Anatia raises an eyebrow at the sound of the name 'Molly Harlequin'. "I've heard that name," she muses. "I certainly don't recall much of it, though. Sounds a little like an old history novel. Or history, anyway." The woman kicks her legs off the table, spilling one drink and upsetting others. "Okay. So we're heading out to rescue a little old lady from certain death... or ferality, either way." With a light chuckle, she looks over at the old lion, disregarding the sudden surge of heroism, bravery, and sheer stupidity from Dio. "Half. Up front."
