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deannawolInspired by Tuesday Night's Cyberpunk Game...
Don't ya hate it when you have a story going around your head?!
Edited slightly. Edits are highlighted in Blue!
A door slammed for unusual reasons. Instead of the trudge of hobnailed boots going into combat yet again or the softer stepping of people determined to approach sunrise thru a haze of the best alcohol an empty credchip can buy, it was what could only be described as a gait of someone who definitely did not want to be where she was. Unseen figures saw the figure stop just outside the house for a moment, looking back before spitting on the doorstep. They missed the snarled 'Peshka' mumbled just under audible range as the figure turned and walked off, huddling under her comfortably worn armored jacket.
Have you ever felt so angry that you just wanted to lash out and hit someone? Just wanted to plant your fist in their face? That's all very well with the random Pizda on the street but unless you are seriously deranged and have a death wish, you don't let your anger win when trying to face down a person who could wipe the floor with you, even if they are only a street samurai, a pretend solo, with delusions of grandeur. Even when thinking coherently is impossible, you should never stop listening to that last piece of sanity telling you to back down or be put down! That's one of the basic rules of survival in Night City.
Alexa “Lex” Markov silently seethed with anger as she wandered down the street. Wandered was a good word for what she was doing because she had no conscious idea of where she was going and no time to get there. The only thing she knew was that she needed to get away from the place she lived. Previously it had been her home, but she could no longer think of it in that fashion. Home would mean that she felt some sort of mental comfort there, which was no longer the case. It was now a place where she spent time with a few friends and some other people who helped with the utilities.
Lex thought back to the first time that she had seen the people who had brought about this walkabout. A thought clicked in place from the many years she spent learning about other cultures and recent encounters brought it to mind. Aborigine's believed that the spirit could be misplaced and a person must walk until they recover it. Such is life. A person can be so sure of what their role in life is until it is taken away from them. If that happens then they either adapt or fall by the wayside. Lex realized that she had been feeling impotent in the group. She had been effectively pushed to a secondary position by the cheerful, bouncy, money grabbing, self-centered Sukka that had joined the group. It was hard for Lex to fit Vogue into any other mould barring the Mall-Plexer who hasn't given up daddy's Am Ex. Razz was another matter. If Rom had not been so important to the group and so loved, Razz would never have seen the couch let alone been able to bring back that Kitty to keep the house awake with her mewling.
Further thought provoked the realization that the group was not a group anymore. A schism had appeared shortly after replacements were recruited. It had gone unnoticed for a few weeks until the stress levels of every member of the group had finally caused the cracks to become visible. Last years groups had been forged in the fire of Shaitan's trials but this years group seemed to be more like the bundle of reeds tied with a frayed rope, one more pull in the wrong direction and snap, the group would break.
A gust of wind whipped down the street, catching Lex' hair and coat in its travel and sending both whipping out behind her like a spirit in a bad Manga movie. Lex looked up, looking at more than the ground passing below her feet for the first time in blocks. A broken dataterm, a shattered wall covered in steel gray and blue graffiti quickly told her exactly where she had wandered. If that wasn't enough, the two gangers standing off to the side with their colours visible quietly chatting would tell even the most oblivious person where they were. Their baggy skater wear could only be classified as fashion suicide in more affluent areas of Night City. Here the oversized denims with patches of dark blue and gray screamed they allegiances.
Lex runs a hand thru her hair suddenly remembering what she forgot. Reaching for her phone to call her best friend, she suddenly saw in her minds eye that she had left it beside her on the couch before she stormed off. Lex felt very bad for walking off without telling Sansygh where she was going or when she came back. Guilt paused her steps long enough for the gangers to take notice.
The two gangers slowly got up off the wall and started sauntering over to her, malicious glints in their eyes. Lex mentally kicked herself for stopping. Calmness spread thru her body as she weighted up her options. They were hardly more than boys, this should be a cakewalk. She smiled sweetly as they walked closer, dropping her arms to hug herself as if cold. They walked closer, exchanging glances.
“What you doing here, Choomba? Don't you know where you're walking? You think just anyone can walk thru Piranha territory?”
Lex said nothing, watching both of them carefully. To all outward appearances, she looked scared when they mentioned Piranhas. Inwardly, she knew that they had only just joined if they did not know who she was. They stopped in front of her. The guy who spoke obviously thought of himself as a leader. The other one looked less sure. Something rattled him about the situation. He leaned over and spoke softly to his friend. His friend replied in a voice that was not as hushed allowing Lex to overhear, giving her the confidence, which she had not been lacking.
“Don't worry, man, we can handle it!”
Looking back at Lex, he smiled, but the thin smile of someone who had already sized up the opposition in his head and declared himself a winner.
“I'm sure we can come to an … understanding. You be nice to us, and we'll be nice to you.”
His eyes did the slow crawl downwards; the look on his face betrayed his thoughts.
Lex looked him directly in the eye as soon as he had stopped looking her over and smiling said, “How bout you run home to your Mother? Shouldn't be running around the combat zone on your own at your age, might get hurt!”
The boy's expression changed from the thin smile to outright rage. He took a step closer and started to raise a fist. Lex took the opportunity to make her move. Drawing both guns from the holster she wore under her amour jacket, she aimed.
“I wouldn't even try it, if I were you…”
Lex let her statement hang as she gave the gangers time to sum up the situation. The guy who had been eyeing her up froze mid movement as he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his genitals. The second guy followed the line of sight of the second gun to find it pointed directly at his heart.
“How 'bout you both back off, right now and I leave you intact. I've had a very bad day and you don't even register as a blip on my radar screen, but I won't hesitate in blowing your balls off and then making you pick up the pieces.”
Lex listens carefully as she hears a soft noise. She looks down and spots the fabric darken in telltale marks down the ganger's leg. Stepping back, she rolls her eyes in disgust. Newbie street scum, she thinks. Even his mate is trying to not watch his friend empty his bladder on the street. He grabs his friend by the back of his scruffy denim jacket and pulls him out of the way. Lex re-holsters the two guns and straightens her coat over them. She looks back at the embarrassed boy who seemed to have lost about half a foot in height and about 3 years in age.
“Opezdal!” mutters Lex as she casts a final look at her would be assailant.
“Da!” replies his friend.
Lex nods slightly to her fellow countryman and starts back off on her journey, taking the shortest way out of Piranha territory. Dealing with stupidity was not high on her agenda.
The streets swam in decay and misuse. Dark alleyways stank of urine and fetid meat. Bullet holes punctuated the walls of this modern day hell! People scurried not checking faces, instead focusing on jacket pockets and trouser bands looking not for intent on faces but on whether they had the means to carry out what was surely written on their faces. Gang tags lined the street like multicolored tapestries of ownership. Welcome to Hell blazons a derelict building but goes unnoticed in a place where not even people are important.
She passes the last graffiti tag and is slightly relieved but of course would not admit it. Her thoughts returned to where they had been before her little 'encounter'. She spotted a dataterm on the corner of the street and slotted her credchip. Logging into her mail account, she tries to think of how to explain why she left to Sansygh. She opens a new mail message. Disengaging her brain, her fingers type a message out.
Sansygh,
Sorry I stormed out. I don't know when I will be back but don't worry!
Lex
p.s. I know how you felt when you had to get away from everyone.
p.p.s. Don't call the family! ;)
Quickly entering Sansygh's email address, Lex sent the email, hoping it would be enough to make the pixie not worry about her too much. As soon as the sent message appeared on the screen, the mail client returned to the inbox. Sitting unread in the inbox was one email. It was from some Japanese name that she had never heard of. Curiosity took over and Lex opened the email. Scrolling to the bottom, she saw the standard Arasaka disclaimer. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to scroll up and read the rest of the message.
“… Press conference … Wednesday … EB2000 … Arasaka … Dress presentably …”
The words floated over her and she caught only a few but even they were too much for her to deal with right now. Visibly, Lex slumped against the dataterm. She didn't need to deal with this right now. Working on automatic, she forwards the mail to everyone else in the group. Depression starts to sink in as she realizes that there may be no way out of the situation that Arasaka enrolled them in. She looked around.
Across the street there was a bar. Lex knew she probably wouldn't fit in but right now, for the first time in a long time, she didn't care.
Don't ya hate it when you have a story going around your head?!
Edited slightly. Edits are highlighted in Blue!
A door slammed for unusual reasons. Instead of the trudge of hobnailed boots going into combat yet again or the softer stepping of people determined to approach sunrise thru a haze of the best alcohol an empty credchip can buy, it was what could only be described as a gait of someone who definitely did not want to be where she was. Unseen figures saw the figure stop just outside the house for a moment, looking back before spitting on the doorstep. They missed the snarled 'Peshka' mumbled just under audible range as the figure turned and walked off, huddling under her comfortably worn armored jacket.
Have you ever felt so angry that you just wanted to lash out and hit someone? Just wanted to plant your fist in their face? That's all very well with the random Pizda on the street but unless you are seriously deranged and have a death wish, you don't let your anger win when trying to face down a person who could wipe the floor with you, even if they are only a street samurai, a pretend solo, with delusions of grandeur. Even when thinking coherently is impossible, you should never stop listening to that last piece of sanity telling you to back down or be put down! That's one of the basic rules of survival in Night City.
Alexa “Lex” Markov silently seethed with anger as she wandered down the street. Wandered was a good word for what she was doing because she had no conscious idea of where she was going and no time to get there. The only thing she knew was that she needed to get away from the place she lived. Previously it had been her home, but she could no longer think of it in that fashion. Home would mean that she felt some sort of mental comfort there, which was no longer the case. It was now a place where she spent time with a few friends and some other people who helped with the utilities.
Lex thought back to the first time that she had seen the people who had brought about this walkabout. A thought clicked in place from the many years she spent learning about other cultures and recent encounters brought it to mind. Aborigine's believed that the spirit could be misplaced and a person must walk until they recover it. Such is life. A person can be so sure of what their role in life is until it is taken away from them. If that happens then they either adapt or fall by the wayside. Lex realized that she had been feeling impotent in the group. She had been effectively pushed to a secondary position by the cheerful, bouncy, money grabbing, self-centered Sukka that had joined the group. It was hard for Lex to fit Vogue into any other mould barring the Mall-Plexer who hasn't given up daddy's Am Ex. Razz was another matter. If Rom had not been so important to the group and so loved, Razz would never have seen the couch let alone been able to bring back that Kitty to keep the house awake with her mewling.
Further thought provoked the realization that the group was not a group anymore. A schism had appeared shortly after replacements were recruited. It had gone unnoticed for a few weeks until the stress levels of every member of the group had finally caused the cracks to become visible. Last years groups had been forged in the fire of Shaitan's trials but this years group seemed to be more like the bundle of reeds tied with a frayed rope, one more pull in the wrong direction and snap, the group would break.
A gust of wind whipped down the street, catching Lex' hair and coat in its travel and sending both whipping out behind her like a spirit in a bad Manga movie. Lex looked up, looking at more than the ground passing below her feet for the first time in blocks. A broken dataterm, a shattered wall covered in steel gray and blue graffiti quickly told her exactly where she had wandered. If that wasn't enough, the two gangers standing off to the side with their colours visible quietly chatting would tell even the most oblivious person where they were. Their baggy skater wear could only be classified as fashion suicide in more affluent areas of Night City. Here the oversized denims with patches of dark blue and gray screamed they allegiances.
Lex runs a hand thru her hair suddenly remembering what she forgot. Reaching for her phone to call her best friend, she suddenly saw in her minds eye that she had left it beside her on the couch before she stormed off. Lex felt very bad for walking off without telling Sansygh where she was going or when she came back. Guilt paused her steps long enough for the gangers to take notice.
The two gangers slowly got up off the wall and started sauntering over to her, malicious glints in their eyes. Lex mentally kicked herself for stopping. Calmness spread thru her body as she weighted up her options. They were hardly more than boys, this should be a cakewalk. She smiled sweetly as they walked closer, dropping her arms to hug herself as if cold. They walked closer, exchanging glances.
“What you doing here, Choomba? Don't you know where you're walking? You think just anyone can walk thru Piranha territory?”
Lex said nothing, watching both of them carefully. To all outward appearances, she looked scared when they mentioned Piranhas. Inwardly, she knew that they had only just joined if they did not know who she was. They stopped in front of her. The guy who spoke obviously thought of himself as a leader. The other one looked less sure. Something rattled him about the situation. He leaned over and spoke softly to his friend. His friend replied in a voice that was not as hushed allowing Lex to overhear, giving her the confidence, which she had not been lacking.
“Don't worry, man, we can handle it!”
Looking back at Lex, he smiled, but the thin smile of someone who had already sized up the opposition in his head and declared himself a winner.
“I'm sure we can come to an … understanding. You be nice to us, and we'll be nice to you.”
His eyes did the slow crawl downwards; the look on his face betrayed his thoughts.
Lex looked him directly in the eye as soon as he had stopped looking her over and smiling said, “How bout you run home to your Mother? Shouldn't be running around the combat zone on your own at your age, might get hurt!”
The boy's expression changed from the thin smile to outright rage. He took a step closer and started to raise a fist. Lex took the opportunity to make her move. Drawing both guns from the holster she wore under her amour jacket, she aimed.
“I wouldn't even try it, if I were you…”
Lex let her statement hang as she gave the gangers time to sum up the situation. The guy who had been eyeing her up froze mid movement as he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his genitals. The second guy followed the line of sight of the second gun to find it pointed directly at his heart.
“How 'bout you both back off, right now and I leave you intact. I've had a very bad day and you don't even register as a blip on my radar screen, but I won't hesitate in blowing your balls off and then making you pick up the pieces.”
Lex listens carefully as she hears a soft noise. She looks down and spots the fabric darken in telltale marks down the ganger's leg. Stepping back, she rolls her eyes in disgust. Newbie street scum, she thinks. Even his mate is trying to not watch his friend empty his bladder on the street. He grabs his friend by the back of his scruffy denim jacket and pulls him out of the way. Lex re-holsters the two guns and straightens her coat over them. She looks back at the embarrassed boy who seemed to have lost about half a foot in height and about 3 years in age.
“Opezdal!” mutters Lex as she casts a final look at her would be assailant.
“Da!” replies his friend.
Lex nods slightly to her fellow countryman and starts back off on her journey, taking the shortest way out of Piranha territory. Dealing with stupidity was not high on her agenda.
The streets swam in decay and misuse. Dark alleyways stank of urine and fetid meat. Bullet holes punctuated the walls of this modern day hell! People scurried not checking faces, instead focusing on jacket pockets and trouser bands looking not for intent on faces but on whether they had the means to carry out what was surely written on their faces. Gang tags lined the street like multicolored tapestries of ownership. Welcome to Hell blazons a derelict building but goes unnoticed in a place where not even people are important.
She passes the last graffiti tag and is slightly relieved but of course would not admit it. Her thoughts returned to where they had been before her little 'encounter'. She spotted a dataterm on the corner of the street and slotted her credchip. Logging into her mail account, she tries to think of how to explain why she left to Sansygh. She opens a new mail message. Disengaging her brain, her fingers type a message out.
Sansygh,
Sorry I stormed out. I don't know when I will be back but don't worry!
Lex
p.s. I know how you felt when you had to get away from everyone.
p.p.s. Don't call the family! ;)
Quickly entering Sansygh's email address, Lex sent the email, hoping it would be enough to make the pixie not worry about her too much. As soon as the sent message appeared on the screen, the mail client returned to the inbox. Sitting unread in the inbox was one email. It was from some Japanese name that she had never heard of. Curiosity took over and Lex opened the email. Scrolling to the bottom, she saw the standard Arasaka disclaimer. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to scroll up and read the rest of the message.
“… Press conference … Wednesday … EB2000 … Arasaka … Dress presentably …”
The words floated over her and she caught only a few but even they were too much for her to deal with right now. Visibly, Lex slumped against the dataterm. She didn't need to deal with this right now. Working on automatic, she forwards the mail to everyone else in the group. Depression starts to sink in as she realizes that there may be no way out of the situation that Arasaka enrolled them in. She looked around.
Across the street there was a bar. Lex knew she probably wouldn't fit in but right now, for the first time in a long time, she didn't care.
KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 04:19 am (UTC)Poor Lex...
*Inner Sansygh struggling to emerge....oodles of huggles*
That is fantastic! (And at some point I'll stop drooling long enough to think up a proper response)
Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 04:32 am (UTC)Thanks hon!
Incidentally, the foreign words in italics are genuine curses in Russian just not in cryllic lettering :)
I got really bored!
Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 05:00 am (UTC)Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 05:07 am (UTC)Incidentally, translations provided on request
Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 05:39 am (UTC)Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 06:13 am (UTC)You may be surprised!
*grin*
Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-25 07:08 am (UTC)"Sukka" means "Slut"
"Opezdal" means "Idiot"
"Da" means "Yes"
More to come ;)
Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-26 02:19 am (UTC)Re: KEWL!
Date: 2004-03-26 02:46 am (UTC)