Replicator

C

CMO__Ratchet

Guest
Original poster
The sound of his phone alarm, and the phone itself vibrating against the wooden side table it rested on had him groaning. Blindly he reached out for it, yawning as he made contact and lifted his head to shut down the blasted thing.

It wasn't early by any stretch, but his days often ran into late nights so he hoped the world didn't hold it against him. Eh screw the world.

Rolling over he moved to sit, black sheets pooling at his waste before being kicked off entirely as he crawled out of bed. Showering and what not were seen to with practiced timing, dressing and wolfing down an energy bar as he headed out to start his day.
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"Can I see that one?" He questioned, pointing at another diamond bracelet in the jeweler's display case, himself the perfect imagine of a late twenty something year old, clean shaven with raven hair intentionally messy and just shy of falling into his storm gray eyes. He wore a backpack which along with his college shirt and nice jeans completed the image of some lovestruck yuppie looking for gifts.

"Of course, now this one is 14 karat white gold with white and blue diamond settings."

"It's beautiful." He offered, examining the piece.

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"I'd like to sell this." He stated, pulling the bracelet out of his pocket, now wearing a baseball cap. Of course it wasn't the actual bracelet but that didn't matter. It would be inspected by the pawn shop dealer and he'd be offered $500 on what retailed for four times that amount. He'd take it and be happy, never cause a stir.

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His other business ventures operated much the same way, Liam Nix-has his current forged driver's license stated, was a man of many talents. He had power beyond compare so far as he knew, he didn't actively seek out information about what he was, what was happening to others like him, or what the government or private sectors had to say-seeking out information was just asking for trouble.

What he knew from the newscasts, playing in the various electronic store windows, as that compared to what was known about his kind, even among those just like him-he was something else entirely.

So what did Liam, Matter maker and unmaker, Replicator and Remove, do? He pawned replicated jewelry and sold a never ending supply of weed and other less than legal vices to New York's seedier side. Tonight would be no different from any other, so he assumed.
 
Clarissa, Clark as she was more recognizably called, woke early and made herself a full breakfast; ham, scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a tall glass of OJ. She sat in front of her computer, pouring through data and surveillance footage as she ate.

Combing through the data and her notes, she had gotten a relative feel for the type of Replicator he was. He seemed the independent type, keeping a rather low profile, simply replicating high end jewelry and pawning it, and dabbling in the drug trade. By all accounts it didn't seem like something she should be bothering with, but she had her orders. After a quick shower and change she was out of her luxury apartment, that acted as her primary base of operation, and made her way to her secondary local, which was in the operating area of the Replicator.
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Jeans bleached and fashionably worn out in places, a low cut black t-shirt with a Green Lantern ring in the center, clinging to her form and covered by a comfy and thin hoodie; She stood in the bathroom, deciding what to do with her long brown hair. A ponytail seemed efficient for keeping it out of her face for the time being, and after she was ready she hit the streets.

She had been in NY for a few months now, building her repor with the kind of people her target dealt with, as this would make it easier to make contact and not be seen as extremely suspicious. She had never yet been in the same place at the same time as we target, so as to make their meeting as genuine as possible, aside from the fact that she would know more than she would let on.
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Her day was spent simply wandering the street, checking her cellphone every now and again for updates. It was connected to her mainframe at her apartment and any and all new info was easily accessible through her phone. Her phone rang.

"Yes," she said as she answered the phone, "...everything's fine; I've read it and studied it thoroughly...Understood." She hung up and placed another call.
"H-Hello?" Came the tiring sound of Sylus's voice, "You've got a lot of nerve calling me this early, little girl. You're lucky I like you," he chuckled.
"Well aren't I a lucky girl," she responded in a playfully sarcastic tone, "I was wondering if your offer was still open, I'm inclined to take you up on it tonight," she waited for a response.

Sylus had been trying to get her to come out to his club for a while, and through some investigating she was able to find out that that club was the main hub the Replicator visited to make his profit in his dealings. She had opted not to make an appearance so she'd be able to make a longer lasting impression on their first visit. To a Replicator, recognition and memory were an important tool, meaning that their eyes and minds had to be sharp, and this also meant that it was better not to engage one without having throughout a plan.

Sylus sighed, "You better not be fucking with me," she could hear the rising excitement in his voice, "I'll make sure Bernard's got your name for tonight, so skip the line and talk to the doorman. He'll point you in the right direction."
"How curteous of you," she said playfully, "No woman likes to be kept waiting. See you tonight." She hung up without giving him a chance to say anything else.

Tonight she would make official contact with the Replicator, perhaps she might even show him a little something to pique his interest a bit. He didn't seem like the type that would willingly divulge his secret to a stranger, so she was gonna have to place this carefully if she wanted it to work.
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As the sun began to set and the club scene was beginning to come alive, she made sure that she was there early. Didn't want to miss her chance for introductions, and seeing as Sylus had her by his side in VIP, she figured it was going to be easy to make. She just had to wait and bide her time and pick the right move at the right moment. She had studied her notes, the data, and surveillance again before coming out, and while there was video of the guy she wandered how much better he would look in person. Video doesn't lie, but real life is so much different than a screen shot of someone.
 
His route was never the same twice and yet there was a sophisticated grace to it. Not all his clients ventured to the club he operated out of, not all of them were fit for such a place so between pawn shops and club he weaved his way through the dredges of New York pedaling his wares.

"Bless you Senor Liam, bless you!" Mrs. Hernandez, a fixed income elderly woman suffering from God knows how many medical conditions gave, clutching his hand as he passed her a carefully packaged baggie of the highest quality greenery he'd ever become acquainted with.

"Hey, No problem." He was far from a saint but he wasn't a devil either, or perhaps he was and just masked his evil ways with good deeds. Medical marijuana was legal in New York but it was expensive for someone living off meager social security. She always tried to pay but he'd wave it off and be on his way. One good deed did not an angel make him, and not all of his customers were as polite as her.

It'd be well passed dark by the time he made it to the club, that was fine, no point setting up shop in an empty club, it was best to arrive right around three hours after opening. Long enough for the place to be filled and yet for people to get bored of alcohol and each other and look to other means to enjoy the evening.

Before arriving he'd stopped at the subway station a few blocks from the club for a quick change, backpack that was mostly for show was gone, clothing too altered to fit the scene he was about to enter. Jean were a dark color, well fitting-none of that snagging shit. His shirt became a navy button up, perhaps still a little clean cut for a dealer but hey, Sylus liked sharp bodies in his club not riff raff. Silver colored watch with a navy blue face armed his left hand and it was completed by a lightweight gray jacket with some logo or another on it, he barely needed to think about such minor details in his creations and that was part of the key to his abilities
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"Bernie!"

"Ahhh Liam!" The two embraced, left hands slapping each other on the back while their right connected in a handshake that saw a nice little baggie going to the doorman. "Place is hopping tonight." Was given as they separated, the bouncer stepping aside to let him in much to the groan of the crowd.

"Thanks Bernaaard." He gave as he disappeared within, snickering at the shouts that came from his butchering of the other's name. Looking out over the sea of people he picked his vantage point, a small high top table, to set up shop, all he needed to do now was wait for regulars, word would spread from them and he could just enjoy the music and the money.