P
Poludnica
Guest
Original poster
Despite the society’s loathing toward his heritage, Popeye was grateful for many talents his father had passed on him: uncanny intelligence, wondrous spatial orientation. The dependance on AM’s drugs was the only downside, though one thing Pop certainly lacked. Predatory instinct. One reason he preferred to hide behind a wall of network anonymity. Deep down Pop was a coward with fondness to many psychoactive substances. He had inner, instinctive aversion toward killing and physical abuse of another creature. So when the building was attacked, the hacker simply ran for his life toward a person which had an armoured car and an armed driver.
The lift doors opened and only Pop’s inhumane reflexes stopped him from slamming into his boss. Magdalena looked cold and stoic, as if she was leaving the party out of boredom. The jokey took pride in his ability to read people, their intentions and expressions. He read between lines as good as he read the lines of codes. Magdalena was different - she possessed ability to hide behind a mask of deceitful smiles. A viper dressed in a human skin. The woman scared Pop on a very primal level, like his father always had. The young hacker wouldn’t be surprised if Magdalena had a vamp ancestor.
She stoically stepped into the elevator, her movements elegant and effortless. In many ways Magdalena and Anita were similar despite lack of blood relation. Pop had seen the heiress only on few occasions. The young woman had vivacious, youthful beauty but Magdalena possessed mature appeal of a confident cougar. After a short decision making process, Pop came to a conclusion he would bang them both. They had no time for such trivial thing when fighting for their lives. Popeye took a long, sharp breath to calm himself down as the woman moved next to him. His hands trembled and muscles tensed beneath the ghostly pale skin. “What?” Pop snapped, his features grew even more worried. Shots echoed from downstairs, loud enough to make the man coil. “I didn’t invite them.” He snapped, fear mixed with anger was tangible on his words.
Magdalena could hide many things, but Pop sensed the loathing disdain beneath the indifferently polite exterior. He knew it too well. Those well fed fish from the upper echelons, those stuck up rich assholes needed him more than they wanted to admit. Yet Pop felt judged every time they gazed at him with the aloof sense of superiority. If not for the free anti-Eucly’s, he would have dropped this job in no time. “Whatever, we need to get out alive.” Popeye was ready to add ‘pay me for the report, bitch’ but bit himself in the tongue before anything rude escaped it. “I got a message through a secured channel, friendly jockey warned me.” The young man turned to look at the woman. To think one of those had owned his grandfather as if he was cattle. In a way, she owned him as well, the leash was the same, only with human rights thrown in. To work he needed more anti-Euclys, which ate away money he had earned. Not to mention Magdalena wasn’t an employer you just ditched. Pop knew her secrets, enough of them to get rid of if stirring troubles. Promises of respecting Magdalena’s dirts wouldn’t matter, only a bullet to the head and a shallow grave somewhere in the outskirts.
They hurried to the car that drove over with a burning screech of tires. Not a minute too late as the garage filled with gunfire. The attackers were approaching fast, those who had stayed in the building soon would be trapped with no way out. Few bullets hit the car, took down a large, bold guard. Others rushed to protect their boss. In consequence Pop as well, albeit most of them would use him as a meat shield if they only could. The jockey pushed Magda into the car and closed the bullet proof doors. “GO!” He rushed the driver who was already turning the car around.
[-]
A danger from both sides. Roy knew how risky it was, to arm a predator. Most were terrified at the thought of AM standing next to them even with a shock collar on. The vamp hunter knew this danger well, he had fought armed AM’s before and one myth he personally busted: AM’s bled like everything else. They died, they could be crippled and maimed. You just needed to conquer the instinctive fear….Just. Roy remembered well all those boys who pissed their pants at the sight of an angry AM charging at them. Not everyone had a nervous system able to handle high stimulants dosages. Officially they were called a Control Unit, but behind the curtains of flattering PR his unit existed as ‘berserkers’, ‘frenzied’, ‘psychos’. Even worse than the monsters they hunted, because no one officially watched over them. An AM was killed, a deed was done. Nothing else mattered. Roy hoped this reputation would keep Zion from being short sighted and stupid. Low chances for that, AM’s of this personality structure were quickly killed off.
Ironically, now the hunter needed his prey to survive. They rushed into the hallway - Roy with trained, enhanced speed and Zion with elegant, natural swiftness his kind possessed. The hallway was dark, only red alert glow dispersed the shadows. The man’s optics immediately adapted - the world became grey and colourless but sharp. When hunting a nocturnal creature, Roy and his team needed this upgrade more than weapons. He watched AM taking a powerful military grade rifle. ‘Israeli’ The chief thought offhandedly but his focus shifted back toward the empty hallway. Distant gunfight erupted not far from them.
At first Roy wanted to punch Antoni for having around a veteran AM soldier who should have been terminated years ago. Now the chief praised the former boss’ stupidity. Nothing was more deadly than a trained AM…Maybe aside from him. Roy pointed forward, then touched the AM’s arm and wordlessly ordered the creature to keep close. He didn’t want Zion to get shot by their own security. ‘Go.’ Roy mouthed and hunched, stalked toward the noises. He peered from behind the corner of hallway wall and his eyes widened in a rare expression of fear. Prasko security was being massacred by an armed figure. It was an AM. Roy could see by his movement, by his indomitable strength. “Shit.” He whispered but not by the vamp presence. There was an upgraded warrior with them. Roy was sure of it, his optics picked up faint electromagnetic glow. A feature that let enhanced humans to recognise one another in utter darkness. The man had balaclava on, it was hard to recognise him. Unlike common gossip claimed, not all psychos knew each other. This could be a part of Russian team, Israeli team, Polish team, German team or just an illegal merc.
Roy slowly backed away, meaning to vanish behind a cover when the stranger vamp’s head darted upward. He sniffed his prey.
The lift doors opened and only Pop’s inhumane reflexes stopped him from slamming into his boss. Magdalena looked cold and stoic, as if she was leaving the party out of boredom. The jokey took pride in his ability to read people, their intentions and expressions. He read between lines as good as he read the lines of codes. Magdalena was different - she possessed ability to hide behind a mask of deceitful smiles. A viper dressed in a human skin. The woman scared Pop on a very primal level, like his father always had. The young hacker wouldn’t be surprised if Magdalena had a vamp ancestor.
She stoically stepped into the elevator, her movements elegant and effortless. In many ways Magdalena and Anita were similar despite lack of blood relation. Pop had seen the heiress only on few occasions. The young woman had vivacious, youthful beauty but Magdalena possessed mature appeal of a confident cougar. After a short decision making process, Pop came to a conclusion he would bang them both. They had no time for such trivial thing when fighting for their lives. Popeye took a long, sharp breath to calm himself down as the woman moved next to him. His hands trembled and muscles tensed beneath the ghostly pale skin. “What?” Pop snapped, his features grew even more worried. Shots echoed from downstairs, loud enough to make the man coil. “I didn’t invite them.” He snapped, fear mixed with anger was tangible on his words.
Magdalena could hide many things, but Pop sensed the loathing disdain beneath the indifferently polite exterior. He knew it too well. Those well fed fish from the upper echelons, those stuck up rich assholes needed him more than they wanted to admit. Yet Pop felt judged every time they gazed at him with the aloof sense of superiority. If not for the free anti-Eucly’s, he would have dropped this job in no time. “Whatever, we need to get out alive.” Popeye was ready to add ‘pay me for the report, bitch’ but bit himself in the tongue before anything rude escaped it. “I got a message through a secured channel, friendly jockey warned me.” The young man turned to look at the woman. To think one of those had owned his grandfather as if he was cattle. In a way, she owned him as well, the leash was the same, only with human rights thrown in. To work he needed more anti-Euclys, which ate away money he had earned. Not to mention Magdalena wasn’t an employer you just ditched. Pop knew her secrets, enough of them to get rid of if stirring troubles. Promises of respecting Magdalena’s dirts wouldn’t matter, only a bullet to the head and a shallow grave somewhere in the outskirts.
They hurried to the car that drove over with a burning screech of tires. Not a minute too late as the garage filled with gunfire. The attackers were approaching fast, those who had stayed in the building soon would be trapped with no way out. Few bullets hit the car, took down a large, bold guard. Others rushed to protect their boss. In consequence Pop as well, albeit most of them would use him as a meat shield if they only could. The jockey pushed Magda into the car and closed the bullet proof doors. “GO!” He rushed the driver who was already turning the car around.
[-]
A danger from both sides. Roy knew how risky it was, to arm a predator. Most were terrified at the thought of AM standing next to them even with a shock collar on. The vamp hunter knew this danger well, he had fought armed AM’s before and one myth he personally busted: AM’s bled like everything else. They died, they could be crippled and maimed. You just needed to conquer the instinctive fear….Just. Roy remembered well all those boys who pissed their pants at the sight of an angry AM charging at them. Not everyone had a nervous system able to handle high stimulants dosages. Officially they were called a Control Unit, but behind the curtains of flattering PR his unit existed as ‘berserkers’, ‘frenzied’, ‘psychos’. Even worse than the monsters they hunted, because no one officially watched over them. An AM was killed, a deed was done. Nothing else mattered. Roy hoped this reputation would keep Zion from being short sighted and stupid. Low chances for that, AM’s of this personality structure were quickly killed off.
Ironically, now the hunter needed his prey to survive. They rushed into the hallway - Roy with trained, enhanced speed and Zion with elegant, natural swiftness his kind possessed. The hallway was dark, only red alert glow dispersed the shadows. The man’s optics immediately adapted - the world became grey and colourless but sharp. When hunting a nocturnal creature, Roy and his team needed this upgrade more than weapons. He watched AM taking a powerful military grade rifle. ‘Israeli’ The chief thought offhandedly but his focus shifted back toward the empty hallway. Distant gunfight erupted not far from them.
At first Roy wanted to punch Antoni for having around a veteran AM soldier who should have been terminated years ago. Now the chief praised the former boss’ stupidity. Nothing was more deadly than a trained AM…Maybe aside from him. Roy pointed forward, then touched the AM’s arm and wordlessly ordered the creature to keep close. He didn’t want Zion to get shot by their own security. ‘Go.’ Roy mouthed and hunched, stalked toward the noises. He peered from behind the corner of hallway wall and his eyes widened in a rare expression of fear. Prasko security was being massacred by an armed figure. It was an AM. Roy could see by his movement, by his indomitable strength. “Shit.” He whispered but not by the vamp presence. There was an upgraded warrior with them. Roy was sure of it, his optics picked up faint electromagnetic glow. A feature that let enhanced humans to recognise one another in utter darkness. The man had balaclava on, it was hard to recognise him. Unlike common gossip claimed, not all psychos knew each other. This could be a part of Russian team, Israeli team, Polish team, German team or just an illegal merc.
Roy slowly backed away, meaning to vanish behind a cover when the stranger vamp’s head darted upward. He sniffed his prey.