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Greg winked at his companion. “It's good to have someone who's on top of things. However, we have time to spare. Ahh, a Cou'en LetVie, a very exotic brand.”

He motioned to the travel bag and moved over on his knees to plant a loving kiss on its handle like it was a lady's hand. Then he stood and waved his arm about the kitchen with the regality and pride of a king looking over his domain, eyes sparkling and chin raised, with everything he could ever want at his fingertips.

“Pack up what you can, but leave all of the bottled drinks, the wine and such, in front of that small closet door to the right of the bedroom door. Oh, and find yourself something to eat in the fridge, perhaps cut us both a slice of cake. If we can't take it back to camp then we might as well enjoy it ourselves, there's no need to waste something someone else won't enjoy as much. I, my dear, am off to have a compelling conversation with the computer.”

The half-ghoul sauntered into the living room and once again waved the magic, golden key card that made the one he'd pickpocketed look dingy and powerless. A gentle tune sounded, and the coffee table slowly brightened until a lockscreen appeared, and so the thief began his work.

Lorin wasn't entirely sure she wanted to touch the bag without a glove after Greg had kissed it. The bag was made of some dead animal and was treated with all forms of potent chemicals so why had he felt so compelled to kiss the thing? Again she found herself questioning his sanity. As soon as he was out of her immediate line of sight though she took a moment to pet the leather. When they eventually or rather, hopefully arrived to camp she planned on cutting off a scrap of it and donating the rest of the material to be repurposed. This was made to last though this man was wasteful enough to have never utilized it. It felt like an peculiar cross between skin, scales, and rubber. Now that she was stroking it she couldn't help but wonder, "What animal does this come from?"

While waiting for an answer she resumed her task of food packing. Once the cabinet was empty she rummaged through the fridge for anything that might survive the trip back. The cake was much too malleable and would be crushed by the bag's contents. However the fruits and condiments would likely survive so she shoved those in as well. By now the bag was rather dense but they could fit a few more items inside. She'd save that space for the plates and utensils she planned of utilizing for the cake.

After assembling the cheesecake and necessary tableware she sliced and placed a generous portion on Greg's plate while only cutting a sliver for herself. It didn't smell like anything edible and after tasting it she nearly gagged. "This is disgusting! They must've poured the whole bag of sugar in this." It was much too sweet and preserved. She had grown up on mostly unseasoned and bland meat. After setting a fork on the other plate she shuffled over to Greg handing it over to him. The table was... the computer? The only computers she had seen were the bulky machines that were placed in scrap yards. As soon as she had managed to get him to grab the plate she had grabbed her own plate and rolled it in a layer of cloth before setting it in the suitcase. They couldn't leave any more evidence that they were here than they had to. The tableware was rather decent as well. Was is clay? Glass?  Metal? Straight up rock? She couldn't be sure.

“That bag is made from a very ancient species of plant, I suppose it's really a hybrid of some sort. My mother told me they had huge eyes and very brilliant minds, but when your skin's that nice not even the biggest brain will save you. Many of them were cut, killed, and turned into travelware.”

The computer complained as the halfbreed worked, flashing him red signs and threatening alerts, and he complained back until the red turned to green and the threats turned to welcomes. The USB was dropped carelessly by the corner of the table where a ring of light shot out and scanned it, turning the casing, for only a moment, transparent, and revealing the innards.

As the computer began its work, Greg stood and walked to the window to peer down on the cityscape. It was quiet and sleepy up in the suite, and the energy of the street felt far, far away and untouchable. He watched with a tilted head and pocketed hands, eyes staring hard into the distance like he was reading into the future.

A plant? With such a high quality hide she had simply assumed it was from an exotic animal or even fungus. Lorin had seen few forms of non native plant life. They lived in a city and the majority of the soil was trapped beneath a layer of concrete. Some of they few foreign flora she had seen had adaptations such as eyes, bioluminescence, consciousness, mobility,  or lungs. None though had a hide such as this. It must've been only able to thrive on it's home planet then. There was a wide variety of species out there that couldn't endure their planet's weather or gravity.

Now that a majority of this man's food stores had been bagged all they were waiting on was the computer to complete whatever sorcery that was required of it. She had already set the bags where they needed to be and had as reluctant as she was to, she had put her shoes on once again. The glint of red flashing had caught her eye and she was again standing near the table. "Greg it's red. Red is bad right?" Maybe it was manufactured by some variety of alien that viewed the color as a good sign? Before the light could stress her further it had become green. Technology was mostly out of her realm of knowledge so hopefully Greg at least almost knew what he was doing. Seeing as he was now just staring out the window he had hopefully successfully completed most of the computer tasks he needed to. Now it was just a waiting game. Lorin stood by the bags listening closely to the world outside the room's doors. "Hey, do we know what this guy does for a living?" Nothing in the home seemed to hint any any particular job profession. Hopefully it wasn't something that could return to haunt them later.

Greg moved over to a white door and opened it, unveiling the laundry shoot. One by one, he took the bottled drinks and dropped them in.

“No need to worry, Kliso's program knows what it's doing. As for our victim, he's a traveling salesman who hasn't traveled in quite a while, so we're giving him a little shove. He's damaging to business and has outstayed his welcome here in New Chicago.”

The last bottle disappeared into the shoot. Greg brushed off his hands and moved back to the table to tap his foot, huff through his nose, and dart his eyes across the monitor. A deep red flashed across the screen and infected the window panes, the far wall, the kitchen counter tops, each monitor waking just long enough to silently scream 'VIRUS' before breaking up into blocky, confused pixels. The color faded away in sections until there was no trace the computer had even been on. The table looked like a table, the windows looked like windows, and all else seemed right.

Greg snatched up the USB and moved to refit his shoes and tie the laces neatly. He didn't give Lorin a glance or even a grin the whole time, too far into his own head to notice what was around him. At the moment he took the handles of the bags the halfbreed took that chance to flash her a stunningly polite smile before opening the door and holding it for her.

“After you, dearest.”

The trip back to the elevator had been uneventful. For what was the first time in their entire journey Greg was mute. If they were within the fences of the collective she might have taken this as a reprieve from his usual banter and folly. When her senses were enveloped by foreign stimuli in unfamiliar territory his silence was unsettling. Soon they wouldn't be alone anymore but under the critical eye of the wealthy and the more intimidating hotel staff. By now her trust in Greg was beginning to crack. If he was going to shut down on her he had better be reviewing whatever detail he had overlooked that he hadn't dared to share with her.

The carpeting of the elevator now paled in comparison to the previous flooring they had trodden on. It was much too plush and made every step of hers feel uneven. The actual ride was as plodding as it had been previously, taking the stairs would have proven more exciting. Eventually the elevator doors had opened after nothing but minutes of pacing. They had arrived to the lobby. With an exit in sight she wanted to bolt to freedom but if she were to do that they would both seem suspicious and their bags would be checked. Oh, the bottles. Did they need to retrieve those? Knowing nothing of this Kliso she wouldn't know if there was already someone waiting to retrieve the bottles or if that was their task. She couldn't inquire about it to Greg now that they were in view of others so hopefully he could remember everything he needed to do through his silent pondering.

The elevator doors coasted open, and they were back in the glamor of the lobby. Greg wheeled the bags out and looked around, snapping rudely at a passing porter who skidded to a stop and took up the stolen goods like a clueless addition to the heist. The halfbreed clasped his accomplice's hand, ignoring any protest he was sure she would have, and guided her down the red carpet. With each step the air seemed to grow colder, sharper, wilder, and his grip became softer. By the time they'd stepped foot onto the sidewalk, the only thing left of their hand-holding were two linked thumbs.

Greg called to the porter and pointed at a red hoverbike with a commanding finger that speared the suitcases to the back mount and made the bag boy tremble nervously. As if to test his package-securing abilities, the halfbreed mounted the bike and tilted it sharply to the side, glancing back to see if the packages had stayed tightly in place, and, once satisfied, rewarded the porter with a hearty slap on the shoulder and a fat stack of credits.

“If we're going to steal, might as well do it in style, right?” Greg whispered to Lorin as the boy ran off to grab the suitcases of an irritable alien. “He was a good kid...”

The thief shook his head and turned his attention to their silent transportation, running his hand beneath a hidden panel and massaging the guts of the bike gently until it quietly purred to life, as if waking up a sleeping beast. The front and back propellers hummed and began to kick up a breeze, lifting the body of the bike into the air and well above Lorin's shoulders. Hand extended, Greg jerked his head to the spot behind him on the bike and grinned a toothy smile.

Lorin tensed and nearly whipped her head around to view what Greg had barked an order at. She didn't think it was possible for him to sound so harsh but he had just proven her wrong. The target of her associate's sharp voice was a meek and scrawny porter. For just a moment she hesitated to take another step and stood there bewildered. That was before he had snatched her hand and forced her back into focus. <I>Right, pretend. We're playing pretend.</I> It had taken a great deal of effort to remember that detail after he had acted so convincingly out of character.

As soon as they took that first step out of the door she was tempted to bolt. With her hand now free it would've been possible to do so. In such unfamiliar and hazardous territory it would be too rash of a choice to make. It seemed her colleague had a far more daunting method of escape in mind. A comment by him that concerned the porter had affirmed her belief that his earlier behavior was simply a convincing act. She could care less about the boy, if he couldn't handle his job then he wouldn't be working here. Working in a place like this practically guaranteed he was fed better than the common street dweller.

After what she assumed was some tinkering or hotwiring on Greg's part the vehicle gave off a variety of brassy hums and whirs. She slightly recoiled away from the machine. If beings such as themselves were meant to fly they would have wings or air sacs. Couldn't he just be content with staying grounded? Time and time again she had fought her instincts during this mission but this? Her life had been spent with her feet firmly planted to the ground. For a moment her eyes wandered down the street half tempted to walk off and leave before looking back up at the bike that now hovered well above her shoulders. She raised an eyebrow wondering how she was feasibly supposed to even mount the thing from such a distance. Little was she aware of the subtle dread pulling at her face which would have made it clear she didn't want to get on that bike. With no other choice though she had forced herself to clamber onto the machine. Now that she was actually mounted she decided it wasn't quite the height that had her acting skiddish, though the lack of contact with the ground was certainly disorienting. It was the unfamiliar clamor of the machine that had caused her to behave like a jittery youngling. Now that she was close enough to whisper she found herself asking, "Tell me, why did I agree to this idea again?"

“Because you're a member of the Collective,” Greg whispered back, smiling devilishly over his shoulder.

The engine exploded into noise, and the bike ripped away from the sidewalk with a wind that flapped skirts and tangled hair. For a few moments the wind threatened to knock them from their seat, but, like a touch of magic, it seemed to stem off and stream to either side of the bike, snagging at their hair but barely touching their faces. As Greg built up speed, racking up numbers that were far past the speed limit (that few kept anyways), the streets became a constant blur of color, and with each turn onto a new avenue the gravitational safety force grabbed at the two passengers and held them tightly in place.

As far as she was aware the majority of the Collective members didn't involve themselves in such questionable activities. Then again she knew so few beings and the few she did know seemed to have no common sense. To be fair Greg had gotten them in and out of the situation alive. Hopefully without the owner of this stolen bike recognizing it or noticing it's absence. They had stolen it in broad daylight with that porter as their witness. He could've decided on a more subtle exit strategy. One that didn't involve deafening machines that hovered above the ground preferably. But no, she had decided to go along with his idea to steal a bike in addition to everything else they had looted. If their earlier thievery didn't catch up with them in the future this stolen bike would.

At every abrupt and harsh noise of the bike she found herself flinching. Since Greg didn't seem to be commenting on any of the noises she'd simply have to assume this was how these machines were meant to sound. Harsh and ear grating. She doubted that one of the hotel's inhabitants would park a damaged vehicle anywhere near the eyes of those in the same social standing as them. Eventually they were moving much too fast for her to make out most of her surroundings. The machine was piercing enough that she was certain she could've said anything and Greg wouldn't have been able to hear her even at such a close distance. Where did he plan on driving this deathtrap? She doubted Celeste, an individual who would risk her own life and the others in camp to care for a dangerous stranger, would approve of their activities. He couldn't be driving it to where they were going to meet up with the other two. For now she clung to the seat not quite sure how they hadn't been flung off yet.

Haphazardly, Greg reached back to Lorin and handed her a small device, motioning to where one of similar design was tucked around his ear.

“Have you ever heard of the Glasgow Gang? Weird bunch, but they started a street war a few months back over a stolen shipment of... materials. A mutual friend was running the transportation security, but things went awry and downtown has been one hell of a mess since then. Normally he would be the one to transport us and what I send down to Abya in the laundry room, but he went missing two days ago. There's a contingency plan, but... Well, this isn't that particular plan, if you understand my meaning.”

He smiled ruefully over his shoulder and swerved between two cabs, turned the bike sideways, and nearly clipped the ground. The GSF locked them both to their seats, but it couldn't correct quickly enough – someone's side view mirror went flying, and Greg yelled out loudly. A few profanities and a street later he reached down to grab at his knee and ripped the new tear in his pants wider. The mirror had certainly left its mark along with a few shards of imbedded glass and plastic.

“You get hit at all?” he called back, cringing in pain. “Thought I had more room between the two lanes.”

"And I thought you could drive," if she had growled her words any more her voice would've cracked. If they weren't on a vehicle and he wasn't already injured she might have considered smacking him in the back of the head. She had no control over the vehicle and was now expected to trust the judgement of someone who had just clearly proven himself to be reckless. Had the vehicle been traveling slower and the GSF been turned off she might have hopped off of the death trap right now and taken her chances in the streets dressed like she had money. Her hands still had the same death grip to the seat that she had when they had driven into a side view mirror. Now that her immediate thoughts had shifted away from survival she had noticed a few minor cuts and splinters, the worst splinter being a shard of glass in her upper leg. "I think you took the brunt of it, I only have a few scratches." Well, a few scratches, splinters, and a two inch shard of glass stuck in her upper leg that didn't seem to be bleeding yet. It was probably best not to pull the shard out yet, not that she planned on easing her grip on the seat anytime soon anyway.

"Where exactly are we driving this death machine?" She wanted to get off of the bike as soon as possible before any further accident could occur. They weren't even sure if the vehicle had sustained any damage yet. The thought of the bike breaking down while they were still in the air bothered her but she didn't dare to lean to check for any dents. How did Greg plan on explaining their injuries to the others? They couldn't claim they had jumped through a window as they had some plastic splinters as well.

“Gotta get back to downtown, lollipop, where the danger is. Too many gangs have crawled their way into this part of the city. The war has become a distraction, and it's allowing people to slip through the cracks in territory security. New businesses, new gangs, will do anything to get an adv-”

Greg's face twisted in terror, and he yanked the hoverbike to a sharp standstill. The street was filled with citizens and police, separated with barriers that made a distinct line between monochrome uniform and a billowing crowd of colors. There were cardboard signs, chants, bullhorns, flashing lights, and a congested avenue that was far past its carrying capacity and had begun to spit people into the alleys and side streets.

The half-breed snarled. “Protests, always protests.”

His eyes closed for a moment or two, and a new route built itself behind those two lids. The hoverbike was back in motion, and the world began to blur again.

“Lorin, the plasma colt, its inside my jacket. You know how to use it?”

Oh how lovely, protests. A crowd of people gathered to complain to the government in vain while others in the city actually did something productive like search for food or go to work. Even if their message got through to the police what were they supposed to do? They were one of the lowest forms of government, they had little power, they couldn't do anything.

How well did she know how to use a plasma colt? "Better than you know how to drive." Lorin had little experience with plasma weapons as they eventually lost their charge. When she had been living on the streets she didn't have the credits to buy a new battery pack every time the last one died or have someone repair a weapon. In comparison to plasma weapons knives were far easier and cheaper to maintain and were the weapons she usually had to make do with in the past. The little experience she did have with plasma guns was just enough to know how to operate one.

“Get it, aim it, shoot it – we're almost in lost Anain territory, and the police are distracted. It's perfect time to attack other raiders.”

Greg tightened his grip on the handles of the bike, slowing it from way-too-fast to still-too-far-over-the-speed-limit. Shops and apartments reformed back into individual buildings, and people were mostly distinguishable, though not clearly enough to make out features. The deeper into the area they progressed, the grungier the atmosphere became, and even the sky gathered grimy clouds that threw the alleyways into night-like shadows. Odd creatures lurked about, hiding hands in jackets and moving about with suspiciously shifty glances that made their neighborhood feel all too dangerous.

“You're time to shine, kötümser,” he breathed softly, body tightening with the tension in the air.

Tomorrow Came to Our Despair
Earth is a dangerous place, whether in the hybrid-infested countryside or crumbling, dark cities, but no place is more dangerous or rough than New Chicago. Whether out on the streets or high in the penthouses, no one's truly safe.

The world has become a new place. Some people call it impossible, but others just call it apocalyptic. There's barely a government, and what's left of it is corrupt and dangerous - the people live in factions, gangs, or try to survive on their own, and the only peace between them are through the pacts that have been made. The rich thrive and keep themselves safe, but anyone unfortunate enough to be less than that spends every day hoping to stay alive.

Ghouls - they're intelligent beings, humanoid in appearance. Their skin rots, and their lifespan is determined by how long their meat stays on their bones.

Zombies - they're dumb and benign unless angered or bothered. They're brainless, so essentially they don't do anything except wander around, bump into things, and (on the occasion) turn into a terrifying killing and flesh-eating monster. These aren't characters, but they can be used by any writer as a tool, the way one would write about a pet or object a character interacts with. If you plan on using a zombie, PM me to clarify what you want to use one for.

Humans - just like us, but now they share their planet with many other species. Many feel cheated out of their home, and most scramble to keep their kind from dying out.

Aliens - there are many, many kinds, and over the years they've adapted to the newness of the world. From tall to small, these creatures come in all shapes, sizes, and origins. (PM me to clarify what kind of alien you would like to be - it has to be your own creation or one that someone else in the roleplay has made up).

Mutts - an alien-human, alien-alien, ghoul-alien offspring.

Hybrids - always different, always weird, hybrids are animal-human-zombie creatures. Whether four legs or two, each species of hybrids are as oddly animal as they are humanoid. Some can talk, most can't, but all have a highly feral nature and are willing to 'defend' themselves quickly through force.

Additional - any species you think should be on this list that isn't. PM me if you have any ideas.

None yet.


THE ROLEPLAY SLOGAN: Falcon hug that piece of beef jerkwad

No godmoding, guys - be cool

Come up with your own, unique charater, but make their personality realistic. No one likes a Mary Sue or an impossible character.

You only get to kill another character, or injure, if you have the writer's permission.

Don't let things that happen in character affect or influence how you treat someone out of character, and please don't use your character as a way to get at another roleplayer. Don't be cheap.

If you want to write a huge post, go for it! Write a huge one! But, before you do so, write up a message in the OOC chat to let everyone else know it might be a bit and to wait to post until you finish.

If you need to write a post that connects directly to a previous post, but you're worried that someone else might post before you can finish writing, say something in the OOC chat and everyone will wait to post until your done, but you only have a 4 hour window to finish up and post.

Always check the OOC before you post, just so you know what's up.

Breaking the rules can end up in being expelled (kicked out, or whatever you want to call it) from the roleplay depending on the offence.

Lastly, if you have any questions, hit me up. If you choose to be an alien, mutt, or hybrid, send me a message giving me more information on your character as well as an example of what your roleplay post might be like so I can get a sense of what kind of writer you are. If I like your moxie, you're in.

Word Minimum
100 words per post.

Joinable Species
New Age Ghoul

Second RP Master
Nanave (#7827)

Current Characters
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