Roslyn sat at her swiveling chair, her desk scattered with pages consisting of scribbled, messy jottings, some pages complete facial sketches, others paragraphs and paragraphs of handwritten notes. She scribbled at another piece, looking up at the wall of screens, all different models, all varying in size. Some were really old, some the most recent of technology. Anything she could salvage, really. She constantly alternated from looking from her notes to the screens above her. Each had a number written in indelible ink, from one to twenty two, she continued to write, almost violently now as she jumped to a facial sketch within seconds. Her constant obsession over her job was more of an addiction, for hours on end she sat and never stopped writing, her wrists were plagued with aches often, but nonetheless did this stop her. She stopped after a continuous hour of writing, smiling slightly as she zoomed into screen four; a news reporter stood outside in the center of the markets of the Lower Sector, her current residence. She turned on the sound to hear yet another report on her, when press was slow these often came about, it was nice to know people considered her a superstition, and that many think it's true.
'The Observer. This name is often whispered in hushed tones around the Lower Sector. Rumor has it that he has cameras everywhere, and see's everything despite the fact he's rumored to be eyeless. Apparently he charges major amounts of money to those who seek information. And despite the authorities attempts to track him down, wherever he is, he's never left a trace. Those who have met him before say that he moves from his two bases on a bi-monthly basis. But is this fact, or a widely believed superstition?'
A knock at the door made her jump, another customer, most likely. She was already scraping in at least ten thousand credits each month, her clients, or those who wanted to make an appointment, firstly had to pay off her broker, Morikei. A well known and trusted socialite here, no one would suspect him of working for her. He'd then blindfold them and drop them off inside her apartment building. They'd then have to pay to come in, then for every hour. But those who were desperate did.
The knocking continued again, Roslyn got up to reveal her biomechanical forearm and shin from the dark silk dressing gown she hung round her shoulders, along with a pair of grey shorts and a plain white tank top, she tied the belt of her gown and looked through the peephole of her door. Despite the fact that she sat watching screens all day, she managed to keep her toned, slim figure.
Jona Serin, the leader of Morphius, one of the Lower Districts well known gangs, stood at the door. Roslyn smiled as she propped herself against the doorway, her arms crossed. "Well well, look who's back."
"I need some info, T-O, now. I don't have much time." Her tone was serious, unlike her last visits. She walked in past her and sat on the chair next to her desk. Roslyn followed the tall woman back and sat in her usual chair. "Okay, what for, what information, be exact." She looked at her face once more, she was worried. "Don't have much time until what?" Roslyn questioned her.
"I need to see the activity of the police force here, they're on my tail. I need to know what they've been doing to find me."
Roslyn nodded, she recorded the Authorities' activities often."
Jona took the folder as Roslyn handed it to her and began to read through Roslyn's notes.
"They've been around asking alot of people, new members also were recruited. Higher Sector badges on their sleeves. They're after you, no doubt about it. But the little bitches are clueless about me, so they'll still be doing what they were doing last."
Jona nodded as she put the file down, "If you don't hear from me again, presume me imprisoned or dead.! She stood up now, she then left, shutting the door behind her.
Roslyn walked to her wardrobe, getting dressed into a casual leather jacket with her favorite
crop top which finished in a turtle neck, along with a pair of skinny jeans and high heeled boots. She always dressed up when going outside, or when meeting a new client. First impressions were, from her experience, actually rather important. Within the first fifteenth seconds of seeing someone, the mind begins to form a judgement of some sort. There weren't any meetings scheduled for today, but it was better to be prepared.
Another knock came from her door. Possibly Jona again. Though probably another unscheduled client Morikei forgot to inform her of. She looked through the peephole.
Authority Figures, from the looks of them. Roslyn reached for her pistol, keeping it hidden behind her back as she creaked the door open slightly.
"Are you Miss Roslyn Reteck?"
"Who wants to know?"
"We're investigating a local matter of crime, may we come in?"
"No."
"Miss, we are not asking now. Let us in."
"What do you want to know?"
"We need to see you first!"
"Okay, give me a minute!" She yelled back, rushing to the wall of screens in her room, switching the channel to Satellite TV and displaying a normal programme, then sweeping her notes into a backpack. She then walked back to the door, opening it to see the Policemen once more. She offered to shake the lead's hand, the standard tall male figure you'd expect to be in the force.
"Come in, then." She nodded towards her sofa before sitting down herself. "So, whats happened now?"
"This boy, named Joseph Sullivan was stabbed on this street corner last week. Do you know of any possible suspects?"
Of course Roslyn knew, she knew everything that had gone on here, well, in the majority of the Lower Sector for years.
"I think I remember seeing someone running down the street." She tried to sound as if she was unsure.
"Yes, what did they look like?"
"A short male, possibly female, I never saw their face due to their trench coat."
"Anything else?"
"No, sorry."
"Okay then" The Officer sighed before getting up, Roslyn hastily opened the door, showing them out. Back to watching her screens. The 'Hacker', or thats what Roslyn assumed her to be, appeared to be walking down the street on screen two, Roslyn recalled that not only a few days ago had another been killed, a possible relation between the two appeared, also. A sincere one, though. Most likely mere acquaintances. She began another facial sketch of the cyborg, her biomechanical hand moving quickly as she did so.
