Scrap.INC

[Hellis]

Scrap.Inc Office

The woman on the screen was attractive, in the way so many TV personalities were. Touched up face, pleasant smile and iris coloring to catch the eye. Jung was one of the many faces of Channel 141. Currently, she was standing outside the UNE headquarters in Lower Manhattan. The shiny skyscrapers stretched towards the skies like modern day towers of babylon all around her, but none of them reaches as far skywards like those of Singularity city. There was still some reasonable people in New York, singularity city on the other hand, have long lost itself to ambitions of godhood. As the reporter spoke, Clemens woke with a start.

"For the first time since the Martian War of Independence, A martian leader will meet with Earth's Ruling Council on Terran Soil." Her voice rang crystal clear through the speakers of the Ultri-HD tv set but Clemens wasn't sure he had heard right. He leaned in closer, as if not truly believing what was unfolding.

"It is believed they will Discuss the future of the Singularity Program. Due to an increased anti-enhancement sentiment among Earths more brash populists, some politicians seem hesitant to continue committing to the mutual project. It is no secret that the earthside funding has dwindled the past five years." She spoke into the screen. Here eyes flickered to the left suddenly and widened. There was a loud screeching noise as a car barreled past her. Clemens eyes widened as he saw the way part of car was torn up. There was the sound of gunfire and the reporter ran together with the cameraman to somewhere safer. He watched, fascinated as she kept up her reporting.

"It appears the security checkpoint meant to keep this street clear for all but press nad security, was just hit by a remotely guided explosive." She looked over a corner and the camera drone followed her, it showed four men, armored but clearly human, advance against the checkpoint. However, armored as they were, two of them went down as heavy anti-armor rounds exploded their home made power armor. The remaining two answered with bursts of heavy duty small arms fire before they two went down, turning into pink mist as a UNE gun drown let its mingun loose.

"We have confirmation that the attackers are part of the more militant anti-modification groups called "Preservers of Humanity"" She said, her voice low. "We have been ordered to stay put as they look for any co-conspirator or traps."

"Holy shit." Clemens muttered fished out one of his cigars biting off the end of it while also shutting of the TV. "Are all fucking Naturalists Insane?" He spat out the end and took it to his mouth. Lighting it he moved over the fridge, he blew out a thick cloud of smoke before opening the door and fishing out a bear before heading downstairs to the office. The office looked like it always did, cluttered and messy. A massive oaken desk stood by the far end, opposite to the door. A door led to the office of their owner and lawyer Jacob Weiss did his paper magic to keep them out of jail. Today however, Weiss sat at his desk. Reading his reporters.

"Oi. What the fock? Those are my papers." Clemens protested. "And my chair."

"Well. If you had not taken a nap in the middle of the damn day like some old decrepid husk of a man." Jacob said, raising a eyebrow. Despite his german sounding name, Jacob was a man of dark skin and not a drop of european blood in him. His mother was a Nigerian salesrep from one of the Nigerian startups that been bankrolled by chinese money. His father was a Martian spacer who died on board the very ship Clemens had helped wrestle back from ADAM control. Clemens had never met the man, as the ship had a good 1000 crew at the time of ADAMs A.I hijack and Clemens was just part of what was being transported.

"Oi. Ok. First of, fock you. Second. Fock you." Clemens growled at the handsome lawyer. Jacob pointed to a chair.

"Sit. We are about to have company." He said, his voice calm and buisness like. A sure sign a lot of money was about to walk inside the office. Clemens stashed his beer away in one of the drawers and sat heavily onto the chair appointed him. He looked to the door, as if daring it to open. It defied his stare as it slid open. A man in the most expensively cut suit Clemens had ever seen walked in. Flanking at either side, was two brutes wearing some fancy looking clothes. Clemens eye confirmed their suits was nanoweave. Super expensive stuff that most didn't bother with because you could buy a hundred ballistic vests for the same prize. He threw a sideway glance at his business partner when he realized the youth was no other then "Micheal Ortiz. One of the city's wealthiest men and major shareholder in ZEUS and ARES."

"Have a seat Mr Ortiz" Weiss said, stapling his fingers. "This is SCRAP.INCs own Chief of Operations: Clemens Bartholomew Baychester"

"The fifth." Clemens added and Jacob rolled his eyes.

"The fifth? I thought you were a spacer, not a oldie from earth"

"I am. And I am also the Fifth. Now. How can we help you gentlemen."

"We need something retrieved."

"You do realize." Jacob started. "By coming here, you are legalizing the possible murder of a person." it was the basic spiel. "In approaching us, you are stepping into the legal gray area of material repossession." He continued, putting Clemens reports to the side and pulling up a computer terminal

"I do. You know who I am. You think I do this without research."

"No. But I think a rich person like you are so used to the boardroom politics and powerplays of companies you do not fully appreciate the weight of your own decisions have on the world around you. By asking us, Scrap.Inc to take someone down. You are putting out a hit on a for all intents and purposes, living person. We do not take them alive. We get the job done by any means we can get away with."

"I.." He hesitated, Looking to Jacob then back at Clemens. "I know that Mr Baychester. Let me assure you, the target is not some simple petty criminal or such. Mr Jacob, if I may?"

Jacob nodded. "Please."

Mr. Ortiz produced a holocreeen and enlarged it so they could all clearly see. A man, seemingly of slavic oriign, stared back at them.

"This is Kurt Szvarobel. Martian Cyber Combat Unit 1."

"That so?" Clemens almost dropped his cigarr. "Unit One. You better be sure?"

"Mr Baychester. Unit One were there when we Shut ADAM down for good, thety."

"You do realize they are supposed to all have died when ADAMS reactor went nuclear."

"Mr Szvarabel seems to have survived. Since the war ended, he and several unidentified agents have struck ARES factories, labs and facilities on both planets. As well as a number of other companies."

"Sounds like trouble. But how come this isn't more widely known. A man like this should be on everyone's list. Why didn't he come forward after. He'd be a war hero."

"Why didn't he come back, your guess as good as mine. All of Unit One were unenhanced, They didn't even bring electronics i to ADAMs central compound. Nothing to ping them on the sensors. It should have been impossible." Ortiz spoke, his tone silent. "Up untill one month ago. He was believed KIA by all agencies and actors of the war. Mr Barthalomew, this man managed to operate unknown and unseen, even though we have been actively hunting the tech he stole for almost 30 years."

"So how did he show up on your radar?" Jacob leaned back in his chair. By the look on his face, Clemens could tell the man was already trying to figure out how much they could bleed Mr.Ortiz for.

"Because one of his mercs was iced during a botched job against a Zeus affiliated facility. The mercs internal memory was intact due to a failure in the erasure mechanism. Pure. Dumb. Luck." Ortiz spoke with a sigh. "And It appears he is no longer a natural as it were. We can only assume his survival wasn't without serious damage on his body. It seems he has been slowly been rebuilding what was lost using military grade technology. A lot of it ours. A lot of it sensitive."

Clemens saw his opening to step into the conversation proper. "What technology are we talking about here."

"That is very sensitive" Ortiz started but Clemens stopped him.

"I am sure it is. But if you send us in against a guy who have cutting edge mili-tech you know off, without telling us. You better believe I will keep that tech as way to paythe damages your incompetence have cost me. Understand me?"

"..I Well yes. But surely."

"Surely nothing boyo. Let us cut the bullshit for a second. My lads and lasses has been doing this for a while. And this outfit is the best there is at what we do. If you plan to send us in blind, it will cost you more then it is worth. Trust me."

Ortiz grew silent. Then his temper flared up, suddenly and violently. "I understand you. You think I step into a dump like this willingly? I looked over your 'lads and lasses.'" He said, his tone wavering from cold and smug to angry and wavering at this nobodies treatment of him.

"Default has clear traces of patented tech he should not be wearing. But his history is a mystery to us, which should be a major red flag for you all. And, well we know Bottles is washed up reject from the same idiots who created ADAM." He paused at the way Clemens eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Don't look so surprised, I have made thorough backgrounds checks. Ms Lau has ties with Triads, Kings Krew and a dozen fixers and underground street racers. And well. Gallows is a goddamn Goon." Ortiz went back to looking smug as he continued. "On your team you also have a decorated SCPD and T.A.C.U officer who decided to go apestit on a triad and dragging him in broad daylight to the station. A man whose career in T.A.C.U is punctuated by near pathological expression of violence towards all things Android. Your own nephew has former ties to various Martian extremists."

"You hold on now. Gallows is a good man, and sure, Jude is an asshole but he is a loyal asshole. And you better keep my nephews name out of your goddamn mouth." Clemens started but Ortiz continued.

"Felipe "El Torro" Novarro." There was a pause as he said it. "Former Los Locos." There was nothing more needed to be said so Ortiz moved on. "Kaitlyn Watson. Former Kings Crew. Young, impulsive, violent. You have more loose cannons on your team then you can steer in the right direction. You got two dirty cops on your unit as well. Mr Connor and Myles Powers. The only one who seem to remotely recommendable aside yourself Mr.Baychester is Mr Vage. I know who his parents are and their company has always been ARES good books. What he is doing with such an outfit as SCRAP.INC is beyond me. He smiled at Clemens, having finished berating him.

"Here is how this goes down." Clemens voice was hard as steel. "My Lads and Lasses are worth ten of TACOS bumbling idiots. And atleast twenty of your ARES thugs. So you are going to tell us what we are up against. Or you are going to let us sell your secrets to the highest bidder. YOu didn't come here first thing, you are desperate. He has something you can't trust TACO to keep clear or silent about."

Ortiz stared at the redfaced Clemens as his hired muscle went for their guns as casually as they could manage.

"That is cute gentlemen. But know that this desk has a 50cal gunemplacement wired to it. The second I press the button, you are all dead. Now, hands away from your guns and lets discuss this properly." Jacob said in a soft tone, almost friendly. Almost.

Ortiz shot his goons a look of angry disgust. He clearly did not approve of their attempt at being intimidating. "Fine. We believe he has installed three different systems that weren't even ready for closed market."

"High-Function Prototypes thne" Jacob said. "Go on."

"The First is a flexible nano shield. You are aware how nanites are only really good for temporary, timed tasks. Such as nanite swarmer missiles and superficially strengthening muscle and organic material. Nanoweaves and the like. You also know they break down rather quickly."

"Yes" Jacob glanced at Clemens.

"Well this tech provides its user a flexible reactionary shield. The moment hit by anything, the energy of that impact is dispersed in its entirely and used by the nannites to strengthen the field further. They draw power and store energy, particularly that of kinetic energy"

"An invisible, reactive, superadvanced piece of armor." Clemens swore. "See, If we had gone up against that unknowingly, we'd die." He growled. "What else have you lost tho this man."

"A portable railgun prototype, it's lighter than anything we have on the market. Capable to be… Mounted inside an cybernetic arm. The range is limited compared to a normal, larger railgun. But you know."

"IT is still a goddamn railgun. Yeah. What's the last" Clemens said. He was at full attention now.

"A portable implosion core. Stolen from ZEUS. It is a stable prototype, about the size of a fist. But if it were to… Go critical."

There was an audible silence as they all let that sink in.

"Hold on here just one minute.." Clemens began, his face red as a tomato. Jacob waved him into silence.When Jacob spoke, his voice was cold and his rage barely contained.

"You lost the equivalent to a nuke. To a possible terrorist. Let me guess. He needs it as a power source to the railgun arm and nanoshield." Jacob made a few adjustments to his calculations. Ortiz was quiet.

"Six million Martian RMB. Non-negotiable, We also claim full salvage rights to all non-specified technology. Out of these Six million, 3 are earmarked as deductible for whatever damage our pursuit of the target may cause. Two are not to be counted towards this by any means." As he spoke, he sent the draft over to Ortiz.

"Six Million MRMB. That is a lot of money." Ortiz mumbled. It was true. MRMB was the strongest currency in the world. Martian Renminbi was the result of heavy chinese colonization. ANd when the planet went independant, that was the currency they stuck with. After the war and the Martian economic boom. MRMB had become the currency of choice in most places.

"It should be less then ten percent of what those prototypes are worth to you I imagine." Jacob said, not wavering from his point in the slightest.

"We accept." Ortiz said with a sigh. The two men shook hands before Ortiz turned to Clemens.

"Why, Pray tell, do you have a Android head mounted on your wall." Clemens grinned a the question. The head swiveled suddenly and squaked out a mechanical laugh.

"Because Someone have to keep an eye of the office you idiot." The head snapped. Ortiz blinked, then frowned and turned back towards Cemens. Clemens simply motioned towards the door.

"We will get your stuff back. Now get out of my office, I have calls to make." The man said, his mind now on a very urgent, well payed mission.

---

When the men had left, Clemens hit a button on the desks underside. The signal would register across all his teams personal electronic assistant or ping their V-Net uplinks. He spoke calmly.

"Every Scrapper. Meet at the main office in two hours. We got a priority Red assignment, all boots on the ground necessary" He sat back and stared at the ceiling. "Six Million…" He took a swig of the cheap bear and put his feet on the desk while Jacob went to make a few inquiries with his own contacts.

 

[RJS]

At the moment that Ortiz walked into the Scrap Inc. office, Felipe was strolling through Locos territory on his way to a regular meeting with Perno Real, as he liked to be called. He never revealed his actual name, and Felipe had never given two shits about what it was. What was known was that while his shit was some of the expensive amongst the Locos, it was also some of the best quality and was almost certainly not cut with industrial solvents. His implants whirred softly, corroborating much of what his ears told him about his surroundings. Most Locos never bothered being awake this early, but Felipe had always enjoyed kicking in the door to find his marks just falling out of bed.

He heard the muted trance before the VNet cafe came into view. Faded and tacky, it was mostly used by those junkies who preferred digital hits to the chemical, and it showed. Paint was peeling off the door, and the whole place smelt of cheap air freshener undercut by stale sweat and vomit. A few junkies were sat twitching at the consoles - Felipe didn't know whether they had come early or just stayed in all night. The hostess, dressed in a skintight plastic-like dress wrap, had already pressed the button on her counter as soon as he walked in, which he acknowledged with the slightest of nods.

A section of the wall swung open shortly afterwards, revealing it to be a disguised door. A head popped out, beckoning him in with an impatient hand wave. Within, a host of throws supported a series of bodies in various states of consciousness and dress - those more intimately acquainted with Perno. The man himself slobbed in a large bucket chair at the far end falling out of a Hawaiian shirt, a pair of sunglasses slowly sliding down the sheen of sweat that adorned his jowly face. To either side were guards who bore the look of addicts - lunatics Perno had got hooked and paid for protection in the good shit.

Perno stirred as Felipe approached, blinking rapidly. "Ahaha, El Toro!" he muttered, weakly pulling himself to his feet. "You missed a real great night last night - even the damn tortillas couldn't stop it." Felipe's jaw remained set, his senses assailed by the leftover scent from the pig's drugged-up orgy. The sharpened smell, coupled with the permanent pain across his body, sent a bolt through his brown, accentuating his resting scowl. "Cut the crap. You got the shit or what?" The fat dealer blinked before turning and looking into a small eyehole nearby. A couple seconds passed until a small hatch popped open from which a bag of injectors was pulled and flung in his direction. Felipe immediately began working through the first few, injecting them into the nose feed that sprayed a mist against the nasal surface, one of the closest points to the blood-brain barrier.

Perno scowled. "That's the last of the shit I owe you on credit, Felipe. Next time, you pay or you get fuck all." Felipe was about to reply when Clemens's message flickered into his mind. Well well, the old bastard had work after all. He hadn't paid much attention when he was told the codes, but Red must be good shit. The rising euphoria plus the message set Felipe laughing in anticipation. Perno slunk back at the outburst, his thugs raising their weapons. Felipe spun to face the dealer. "No worries, sounds like it's payday!" Continuing his mad laughter he headed out of the den, back to the streets. It didn't take long to get back to Scrap Inc. where he stowed the rest of his stash in safe places and yanked out his LMG. "Well, let's get to work, ya Bitch." he muttered affectionately. Checking the feed and the barrel, he placed it on the table before sauntering over to Clemens's office, the anticipation heightened by the warm buzz that deadened the pain and focused the world.

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]If there was one thing in Default's life he hadn't experience before, it was a sense of confidence that he now felt. Mainly because he had something to hold onto. Which was Scrap Inc. It gave him a somewhat home. While he knew there were mainly there for just business, it also gave him something to hold onto. In his mind there were so many different images that conflicted with each other. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Always combating for which one was the right one and which one was the inaccurate one. Sometimes there were memories from the eyes of an orphan on the satellites. Other times it was a soldier who died on battle. It was weird to tangibly hold yourself in that light. Like you knew you had died once. Sometimes you wake up from the thought, clutching onto a beating heart and asking yourself, what was that horror you saw.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]None of that mattered though right now. Not entirely. He spent the better of his morning training and navigating his senses in the city. He was standing at the edge of a building, looking like a suicidal victim. He didn't think those who saw him were confident, that he could make the jump. This was one of those moments he felt like a city walker. For those not privy to his linguistic language, that meant a cat.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There was something about their fearlessness that he understood. He use to feed the strays in the alleyways. They always seemed thankful for it, blinking their eyes at him a sign of trust, and flicking their tails in a question mark which always meant they were happy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There was a worried crowd now beginning to gather, since he was in full view right now. He wondered if any of them were shouting things at him. All he did was wave at them, before he got a good running jumping. It was like soaring. He landed on the other edge, with a roll and recovery. Dusting himself he began to go at a full sprint.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Even in a hoodie and jacket he seemed fearless. Not afraid of injury or bruising. His movements were always carefully decided. He swore he heard some clapping and whooping. Running, leaping atop a air conditioner like it were an obstacle for a running marathon, sliding across it top with careful hand movements. Leaping over one of those things the expels smoke. Hitting the edge. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Flying, once again to leap onto another ledge. Construction ahead and yet it didn't matter to him, as he leapt onto the beam. He began to balance on the beam, leaping off it, onto the scaffolding. Construction workers shaked their fist at him, as it was a highly unstable thing to do. But before they could caught him, he grabbed onto a rail and dropped down grabbing another rail of the scaffolding. He did this till he could swing onto a fire escape. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He stretched, and leapt over the railing onto the ground. A cat was startled by his sudden appearance, but Default merely waved at it. Calling it over as he took off his gloves. The cat walked over to him, smelled his fingers and nuzzled him with its whiskers.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He wanted to say something like good kitty. It wasn't just that he didn't speak, he couldn't speak. It wasn't like his words were stuck or that he thought he could speak, but the words trap. It was that he couldn't. He wish there was some way of communicating that to Arthur, Clemens, even Jude. He knew Felipe didn't care. Felipe made him nervous so often times Felipe only knew him when he was camouflaged. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Default looked up from where he was standing. It was always something magical to start off somewhere high. And then find himself back onto the ground. His sword was strapped across his chest, his hoodie draped over the scabbard. Memori went everywhere with him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Default began to shuffle out of the alleyway. He desired to take a shower after this. He was dusty and dirty. Like the top of the buildings. Discarded. People forgot they were even there, didn't they? That the buildings had heads. The idea amused him and he smiled. People were staring at him. They always did and it made him nervous when he felt eyes on him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Probably because people were always weird to look at. You could see their intentions directly in their eyes at times. You knew what they wanted from you. How they were going to use you. They looked at you with hunger in their eyes. Often that hunger asked,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] "how will being your friend, serve me the best". [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Though it wasn't the same in Scrap Inc. Everyone there was broken in their own way and the question in their eyes, often when looking at each other was, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]"how can I help put you together, when I too am broken. I can give you the pieces of me that have fallen off, but I don't know if that will really help you?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A car door was slammed shut. Which made him flinch. Reminded him of gunshots. A part of him told him that he was never part of that war. Another part of him affected by the war. His scrambled eggs acting up when he was in large crowds. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Spontaneity was not his strong suit, but he walked into a candy store. He was already getting looks at by children. Pointing to their parents. And their parents pulling away their hands. Like it wasn't nice to stare. Default knew why he was here.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Clemens a ½ pound of fudge[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jude a lollipop because when he stuck it in his mouth it looked like a cigarette [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Arthur a bag of caramel chews, and for Viviene a packet of jelly beans [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For Myles lemon sours [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Felipe got a chocolate bar [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Who was he forgetting? But Default was distracted when he heard via the Vnet the Scrappers being called in. Probably for a briefing. So he threw the list onto the counter as quickly as he could. The woman behind the register was a fair blonde and she was staring at him too. He felt embarrassed. He wanted her to hurry up. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She walked over to the fudge case. And cut out a piece of fudge for him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Your total sir," she said as the total popped up from the register.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]^ _ ^[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She looked lost. He felt embarrassed. He threw the money at her, didn't care for the change. And gathered up the bag, flying out of the store. And finding his way back to Scrap Inc. as he had done so earlier. From the top. Making his way back down.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Clemens asked him to start coming in through the front. So Default started doing so. His heart was racing though from the encounter with the woman at the register. But he walked into the main office and dumped the candy on the desk. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Writing which was for which, with post its. Before sliding into the corner before anyone else came. So he could remain hidden.[/BCOLOR]

 

[Beowulf]

While others were out and about doing things, Connor was at Scrap Inc. laying on the couch, Rudy taking up the space in front of the couch, sleepping. Hell, if he could fit, Rudy would probably lying on Connor like a furry, and heavy, blanket. Connor wasn't doing anything, the TV wasn't on and no book was in his hand. What he was, like his dog, fast asleep. The two of them would have been adorable, had Connor not been snoring and if drool wasn't coming from both of their mouths. For Rudy, they wouldn't have gotten mad at for drooling on the floor. Connor, however, would probably be yelled at for drooling on the couch.

Luckily for him, a call woke him up before anyone could find him. Grunting as he heard the message play right into his head thanks to his augment, he rolls onto his back and attempts to gather the energy required to leave the couch. "Wake up Rudy." he mumbled, flopping an arm down to slap/pet the dog. Rudy groaned in response, and also rolled over. The saying 'birds of a feather flock together' came to mind to the people that saw the times when dog and human acted so similarly, but Connor didn't real understand why they said that.

"Alright, up we go." After laying on the couch for at least another minute, Connor hoisted himself up and into a sitting position, which prompted Rudy to flip over, and wriggle out from under his legs. Another half minute passed before Connor got to his feet, and managed to slowly ease his way downstairs, Rudy quickly taking the lead and announcing Connor's arrival.

"Alright, what's so important that we all got to be here." Connor mumbled as he entered the briefing room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and staring at the candy. "Where's my candy?" he asked, making sure Rudy didn't try to sneak one of the sweets while no one was paying attention.

 

[CasketCase]

Out of all of his daily rituals, Jude's morning one was perhaps the most important for it set up the mood of the day, even if no one else noticed. At 5:00 A.M., his morning alarm went off and after the fifteen minutes devoted to letting his brain shake off the haze of sleep, he made himself a light breakfast consisting of toast with an espresso. By 5:30 A.M., he would leave his home, clad in a track suit as he made his morning run, alternating between the days whether or not he went to the gym. Aside from the exercise, it was much like the patrol routes he once took back on the force, allowing him to gather information about what was happening here on the streets of his "beat". By 6:30 A.M., he would return, taking a shower and would shave, allotting a half hour to hygiene and primping. Following that, he would cook "brunch" around 7:00 A.M., although one could just say it was just his proper breakfast. Today it was eggs, oatmeal, and assorted fruits, complemented by a cup of coffee during and a second cup following the meal once dishes were done. By 7:30 A.M., he would finally turn on his news stream, keeping its volume low with closed captioning in order to hear the music stream that was activated right after. Getting dressed in his familiar suit attire, he would sit down in his recliner with his coffee, and take in the atmosphere.

"...was just hit by a remotely guided explosive." She looked over a corner and the camera drone followed her, it showed four men, armored but clearly human, advance against the checkpoint. However, armored as they were, two of them went down as heavy anti-armor rounds exploded their home made power armor. The remaining two answered with bursts of heavy duty small arms fire before they two went down, turning into pink mist as a UNE gun drown let its mingun loose.

"We have confirmation that the attackers are part of the more militant anti-modification groups called "Preservers of Humanity"" She said, her voice low. "We have been ordered to stay put as they look for any co-conspirator or traps."

He sighed. Long ago, he had decided never to watch the news while eating since it would ruin his appetite; stories like this were reasons why he was thankful for making that decision.

"They call themselves "Preservers", but the greatest threat to humanity will always be humanity."

"Good morning, Simo." He said after a sip of coffee, not bothering to look to the one he was addressing. After all, Simo was where he always was, in one corner of the living, atop of a pedestal that acted as his charging dock. The android head didn't return the greeting, as always, but Jude never really noticed that subtle act of passive aggressive hatred. With his morning ritual complete, he continued to lounge, eventually turning off his news stream altogether and just focused on the music and his coffee. He allowed his thoughts to drift, his gaze turning to the world outside his window.

"Every Scrapper. Meet at the main office in two hours. We got a priority Red assignment, all boots on the ground necessary"

As abruptly as Clemens' voice had boomed through his communication device, it faded back into silence, drowned out by the sounds of classic rock. Glancing over at the clock, he found that a good chunk of time had passed, but he didn't regret that bout of relaxation. Rising from his seat, he approached the nearby closet and opening, he withdrew the webbing of leather that was his shoulder holsters and slipped it on. Within the same closet stood his gun safe, which needless to say, was also opened revealing the cache that contained the tools of his trade. The first to emerge was his Perun Cyril IFC, giving the pistol a glance over before slipping in a magazine and holstering it at his left, followed by several more magazines being stuffed into their respective pouches, situated right below the pistol. The mono steel bowie followed, carefully sheathed at the right side of his shoulder holster. Additional ammunition and his Keymaker found their way on him, their pouches clipping to his belt.

Taking a few steps back from the closet and safe, he slipped on his suit's jacket, concealing most of what he just put on. Last, but not least, was the large leather carrying case that remained in the safe. Taking it out and placing it on his sofa, he popped open the clasps and took a brief glance within before closing the case up again. Satisfied with his preparations, he turned towards Simo, "Time for work."

"I'm afraid I cannot make it in today. Your prolong presence has given me cancer."

"Can't afford the chemo if you don't work."

"I much rather let it run its course. Then I could finally be rid of you."

Only the faintest of smirks curved his otherwise stoic features. Despite Simo's rejections, the android didn't have much of a choice as the robotic head stuffed into his own hard-shelled carrying case. Turning off all of his electronics and lights, Jude would head out.

It didn't take long to get to Scrap Inc. since his commute was in the same layer of Singularity City, then again, he would have made the trip no matter the distance. He didn't really see how so many of them could live there, but trying to comprehend their warped minds wasn't his responsibility. Pulling into the parking lot, he stepped out and entered the building with his gear. Since he could only trust most of these freaks as far as he could throw them, he continued on carrying his things into the briefing room, placing them within hand's reach near the seat would claim for himself.

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He hadn't gotten into a habit of a morning routine. Usually because he slept late because he was deliberating something else. Checker pieces scattered on the floor, and he mumbled a curse word something like "shit" or "fuck". [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You're alive!" a woman's chipper voice broke up the monotony of waking up at Scrap Inc, with the same dazed and confusion of "what time is it" "why do I feel like I got hit by a truck" and no it wasn't Flask adding some of his dumb alcoholic drinks into the games he proposed. It's because he barely got a wink of sleep despite being asleep. Like REM was completely phased out of his life.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Or we could be dead," Myles mumbled sleepily, "What time is it?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Only 11," Kimmy responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles groaned. No wonder he was still tired. They stayed up all night, they decided bedtime meant sleep at 6 in the morning. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Coffee?" Myles groaned like a zombie.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Already made it," Kimmy told him, how could she be so alert and awake right now? Myles finally opened his eyes. Taking in the visuals of her apartment. Kimmy had an eccentric taste, with most memorabilia of cartoons and collectibles, hanging on shelves she made herself. Her apartment, while small, was quite luxurious compared to the ones he got at Scrap Inc. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They hadn't quite worked up the courage of moving in with each other and he was unsure if he were a burden to her. On her door was the lock he got for her front door for their anniversary gift. He told he wanted her to be safe. She told him[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent], while sweet, this is also unhealthy, but I'll accept it.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Then she smiled. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Slowly rising from the couch like a cushioned graved he stared at Kimmy. Her hair was a mess, she hadn't bothered to put it up yet. Wearing a halter top, which was just a cut t-shirt, with a cute bunny on it. And some of those fuzzy warm pajama bottoms, with hearts on it, and what appeared to be[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Bonjour Puppy [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]on it. Winking stars and hearts it seemed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Kimmy always had interesting facts about that sort of thing. He didn't know much about cartoons, but she was starting to get him more involved in them. They'd sit on the couch together and she'd stop midday to say, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]"did you know that the first three seasons of Bonjour Puppy was just war propaganda."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And he answer with a [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]No[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. Then think to himself, cartoons are actually sort of interesting. Once you got the history behind them. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Then he'd talk to her about some gadget he was working on, and she'd remark with something equally smart or something he didn't think of. She made him calmer. Like the world could be seen with a lot less gray and black than when he was alone. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Not that Scrap Inc. didn't help a little bit with that too. But the world was not a trusting place. Not a safe place without the things he considered anchors in his life. Clemens saved his life, from going completely mad in that isolating, cement box they called a prison cell.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Except that he was worried those around him felt like they were chained down by him. By his fears. Clemens let him be himself. But after five years, sometimes Myles got worried. And all of this was brought up because of his own anxieties with Kimmy. They've only been together a year. This sleeping back and forth place was a trial.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A trial he worried would end in failure. Kimmy gave him one of her faces.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Come on Mister Zombie, get up," Kimmy cheered and grabbed his hand in order to guide him up. So he could begin the "morning" routine. The morning routine usually consisted of her and him going for a morning stroll. Sometimes though when he stared at the door, like today. The locks felt like a security tag. And the door panels, and decorations looked like the burning eyes of a demon. Which always set his alarms off.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Gimme a second to change, brush your teeth," Kimmy told him as she dashed off into her room. Him and the door were having a bit of a staring contest right now. Who would win. The door that grinned at him with a devious smile or the power of Kimmy's to turn things around.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He would have had an answer if not for the interruption with the Vnet communication.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Every Scrapper. Meet at the main office in two hours. We got a priority Red assignment, all boots on the ground necessary" He sat back and stared at the ceiling. "Six Million…" He took a swig of the cheap bear and put his feet on the desk while Jacob went to make a few inquiries with his own contacts.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"K, I got two hours," he called, which meant Scrap Inc won the door. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"O-kay!" Kimmy called from her bedroom. He knew Kim though, she was not the hurrying type. It take her an hour to get all done. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was often well worth the wait, as she splashed Eastern clothing together with western and a splash of cartoon paraphernalia here and there. Today she was wearing what look liked knee high laced maid socks, with a fluffy black skirt, with tools and tools of fabric laced underneath and a black bodice. Her eyes and her hair all done up in dramatic fashion.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ready?" she asked him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles shook his travel mug of coffee. She smiled and skipped on over the door. Myles kept beside her, but was mentally preparing himself to brave the world. His heart racing and his mind going. When the halls of her apartment complex looked longer and hallways dragged. Its when he was outside, it was like he could feel every voice coming from every look or stare. The apartment complex reminded him of the enclosed spaces in the dark. As lights flickered and glass shattered. He knew it was all fake, and it should be something he should be able to shut out. But he couldn't entirely.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He knew it was something he should say go away. But when the world around him felt alienating. Inhuman. He wasn't sure how to take it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Kimmy never seemed to notice. No she noticed. She just didn't encourage it or enable it. Sometimes he had to ask why she put up with him. Clemens, being the bitter old man he was. Would say something like, Kimmy with you because she wants a project. The moment she fixes you up, she'll leave. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While Kimmy didn't seem be the type of person. He second guessed his ability to understand people these days. She snapped her fingers at him, which brought a semblance of reality back to him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Don't leave a pretty girl to talk to herself," Kimmy teased him and kissed him on the cheek.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Oh, right sorry," Myles told her taking her hand and leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I have a gig tonight," Kimmy continued wherever she had left off.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Not good luck to you," Myles told her. She told him something about if you told someone to break a leg during the gig it was considered bad luck. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Kimmy shook her head and smiled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Thanks and you don't die tonight either," Kimmy told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'll try not to," Myles told her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I am going to have a strong talking to Clemens too, he hasn't accepted my keychain for his niece. I got one for Vivvy too," Kimmy cheered.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What did you get?" Myles asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Blueberry Poundcake, looking so sugary sweet," Kimmy gushed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Still think it's a strange that's their tagline for the show,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Kimmy snorted when she laughed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I know right!" Kimmy exclaimed, "The show is weirdly sexual sometimes, but it's why I watch it."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles smiled. It was good to have a good time. To put the demons past him. A bit more literally right now. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A little later;[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Hilariously, Kimmy lived right on top of Scrap Inc. So they never had to go too far when they traveled to the workplace. She didn't often walk in, but she gave him the keychain he was suppose to give Arthur for Vivienne. It was of a small figure of Blueberry Poundcake holding onto her skirt, doing a little princess bow. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Love you," Kimmy told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Love you too," Myles told her. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And off she went. Skipping practically. She had a habit of walking like she was in her own Eastern cartoon show. He didn't mind though. He walked through the front door. Heading to the briefing room. There was candy lying on the desk and he saw Jude had already taken a seat. Felipe was there as well. He was always weird to him. There was also Connor. The candy meant Default was here, somewhere. Myles dropped the keychain for Vivienne next to the candy for Vivienne. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Hey," Myles said lazily.[/BCOLOR]

 

[Hellis]

They didn't call her "Fastest wheeler south of Loco Street" for nothing. Lau took the corner with ease, passing the other car with inches to spare and burned past it after drifting dangerously close to the edge. Smashing the pedal to the metal, the wheels screeched and burned rubber. She righted it in time and blast past another car..She hollered and yelled "Suck exhaust Baby Tires. This is the bigs girls course now!" She shifted the gear and accelerated. The car shook from the way she pushed it on uneven and poor road. Another sharp turn, another near miss. She saw the goal. Then a loud beep overrode the entire world.

"ALL SCRAPPERS!"

She snapped out of the VR swearing "Fuck, I was so close!" She cursed and almost flipped the table with the little VR console on it. It displayed hologam of a flashy car with the text "Drift Warriors 4" in flaming letters above it. Looking around her, she frowned. Her flat was on the second level. Not to far away from the office, only twenty minutes by Gyro car. But her own ride was all rubber, no vtol to to speak off. It would take her an hour. Her apartment stank of booze and sex. Looking about her she saw no sign of her partner. She blew her bangs out of her face. "Fuck." She hopped out and set to make her representable.

"Replay last night, first twenty" She said as the security whirred alive and showed what girl she came home with. Or rather, what couple. "Oh. She said with a smirk. I just got double ditched. Fucking great. Video, purge everything from last night but save the sound bite of the guy swearing in japanese. That was funny." She said as the security purged any sort of digital trace of their actions. She stretched and took a quick shower. "Call my usual cleaning service. Decent tip. They might find… things." She said to the home system as it called up the usual people that would make her place presentable. Slipping into her work outfit, she attached the smg to a magnetic clasp on her back and covered it with her coat. She didn't actually have an conceal permit but she wouldn't flaunt her firepower around this neighbourhood.Putting her headphones in, she strolled towards the garage. A man wearing some rather expensive clothes for the neighbourhood tired to convince her to visit his club later. He followed her all the way to the garage entrence. Once she stepped in, he followed despite clearly not having a card in. She maced him as he tried to grab her arm. Her mace wasn't the simple pepperspray. it was her own blend that left less permanent damage but was somehow more painful. As the man clawed at his eyes in terror, she fished his wallet out of his pocket and picked out the little pack of needles she knew was hidden there. This was Triad territory. Their tricks of pricking girls with "synth feelings" was common knowledge. It was like being being dateraped only more invasive. Possessing it was a federal offence, yet Triads shipped it world wide and made a killing. Confirming she hadn't just decked some innocent club holler, she emptied the wallet, kicked him in the nuts and spat on him before moving on.

She heard him get up to his feet as she sat down in the car. As she drove past him, he went for his gun. She rolled down her window and pointed the "Sun Flower" at him, not even looking his way. "You know, if you go for that gun, I shoot you. If you call your buddies and wait for my return, my friends will shoot you. I pay my racket fee same as everyone else, I will take this to your boss. I am sure Lautz Zau would be thrilled to know his favorite driver became a 'club hostess' due to some shitty asshole and his drugs."

The man paled and put his gun back. "I didn't Know Miss! Please, forgive me."

"Yeah whatever." She said as she slipped her gun back into the car and drove out, heading towards the office.

 

[The_J]

Vage brought the soldering iron up to the circuit board, aiming it at the base of the transistor's third pin. He slid the solder wire in from the side, pressing it to the point between the iron's tip and the the pin, giving it a moment to melt...
"Every Scrapper. Meet at the main office in two hours. We got a priority Red assignment, all boots on the ground necessary" A message blared out in his earbud. The surprise made his hand shake, and he burned the casing on the transistor, the solder blob landing unwanted on another patch on the board.
"Son of a bitch!" He shouted at nobody in particular. He'd spent over an hour working on this board, and now just that tiny blob of solder had ruined it, several highly sensitive components now too burnt to function. Vage threw it in the bin, perhaps with more force than was necessary.
Checking the message, his curiosity was peaked. A new contract? An emergency? Something else? Something important. Vage needed to get his stuff.
Most of what he needed was already stored in various compartments in his legs. His SMG, the Locust, was sitting on a workbench nearby, having been recently taken apart and cleaned, not to mention having a minor change to the firing chamber. He'd finally gotten around to printing the parts from a hardened invar alloy, rather than steel. It wouldn't make much of a difference to anything other than making it more reliable, but it was something, and it meant needing to fix jams less often.
He retrieved the SMG and threw on more appropriate clothing than the vest he'd been wearing, before heading off towards Scrap Inc. HQ.

Jude, Felipe, Connor and Myles were already present, and some sweets were on the table - Default's work, he guessed. He looked them over, yet none of them had his name on... the arse forgot Vage. He was annoyed, but decided not to complain, for now. Leaning against a wall, he glazed over externally while he thought about mechanisms and devices he could make next, and how to improve those he had next. His hands occasionally moved and his fingers twiddled as he visualised designs and ideas, even mouthing words to himself sometimes.

 

[CasketCase]

Tears ran down his cheeks, getting lost in jungles of gray whiskers as he gasped out a mucus filled gurgle from a raw ragged throat. A few gasps of air were the entirety of his reprieve before he seized once more, his mouth wrenched open yet such torment producing nothing but spittle. A few seconds felt like an eternity, but eventually, it ceased and he flopped back, his back pressing against the cool wall while he remained firmly on the floor between it and the toilet.

"I dun know whatcha want..." He mumbled, "Evthin's out already."

This was far from his worst hangover, however, he'd be damned to try and remember which one that was. His skin felt sticky with sweat, that was only thought that came to mind during the waves of nausea, but the promise of a cool shower would be forever out of his grasp in this condition. There was something within his grasp, however, that might change things. Weakly, he reached upwards, pawing the top of the sink like some clumsy kitten and knocking aside several things in the process. A bar of soap launched off, landing on the bathroom floor before sliding off to some unknown destination, a tube of toothpaste doing the complete opposite by hitting the floor with a hearty WHACK! and moving no more. The familiar shake of a pill bottle brought hope but changed into a mocking taunt as he heard it slip into the sink basin.

The dry heaves returned, bringing the old man back to the cold embrace of the toilet, yet as before, it was an empty action design only to prolong his torment; a divine punishment for the modern age. It was clear that if he wanted to escape it, he would have to deep dig within and use all of his strength. With a groan of exertion, he rose onto his trembling legs, leaning against the wall as he reached the sink. Grabbing the pill bottle, he fought the urge to tear it open for fear of spilling them. Instead, with shaky hands, he gently opened them and retrieved a single pill from it from which he popped into his mouth, followed by a mouthful of tap water.

Plopping back down onto his rear, he curled up into a half-assed fetal position as he desperately awaited the effects of the pill to kick in. A metallic echo rang out, causing him to jerk in surprise before realizing it was the comm.

"Every Scrapper. Meet at the main office in two hours. We got a priority Red assignment, all boots on the ground necessary"

"Of course it'd be you, ya fuckin' punk." He said with a bitter chuckle, "Ya would scare an ole man dead on his day off!"

He would choose to ignore the call. Even if Clemens had wanted him present, most knew it was in vain to try and rouse up old Flask when asleep or in the grips of a hangover and today was no exception.

 

[TerribleName]

Kaitlyn's apartment reeked of sex. Of course, she couldn't smell it, since she lived in it and all, but anyone who walked in her front door knew exactly what went on in her home. Strangely, there were no... well, stains anywhere. Aside from the occasional miscellaneous item that may be on the floor, the place was surprisingly clean. Aside from the scent, it was rather uncharacteristic of a person like Kaitlyn would keep her living space so tidy.

Currently, the woman was in her bed. A slightly younger woman of European descent and no enhancements aside from V-Net related augs laid partially over her body, and the both of them were nude under the covers, though the covers were only up to their waists anyway. But unlike the woman snuggled up to her, Kaitlyn was completely awake. She just didn't feel like getting up. For one, this was the sexiest girl she had had over in ages, but she also just generally found it difficult to recover after any kind of sleep. And as she much as she kept her lids shut, she couldn't find herself going back to sleep.

After some brief millenium of time passed, she felt the woman she had spent the night with rise from her body, giving the bare Amazonian woman a kiss on her jaw and running a hand down her side. In response, Kaitlyn's eyes fluttered open, and she grinned at the woman above her, gently pushing her back so she could sit up against the headboard of her bed. "I'd love to oblige you, Olivia, but I've gotta get ready for work." Olivia pouted but then nodded.

"Well... I suppose I had better go home anyway," the girl responded, before giving Kaitlyn a little smirk. "Maybe this could be a little more than a one night stand?" she inquired as Kaitlyn rose from the bed, eyeing the taller woman's... assets.

"Mmm... maybe," came the response as Kaitlyn opened the door to her bathroom. "We could shower together, though." Olivia graciously accepted the invitation.

Surprisingly to Olivia, however, was the fact that nothing much aside from cleaning happened in the shower, and she stepped out behind her host somewhat disappointed. It only made her want some more action, though, of course. As the two dried off and got dressed, nothing much else happened, either, except a little bit of flirtation, and Olivia soon left the house hoping she may see Kaitlyn again some time.

That was unlikely. Not that Olivia would know. Her host sought sexy young women for one night stands, and very rarely did she have fun with them following that. The only instance she could ever remember was the girl that Emily had tried to get her in a relationship with. Suffice to say, Emily was not exactly a matchmaker.

Kaitlyn pondered such things as she slowly ate some instant scrambled eggs and sipped at some charcoal black coffee. Her mind was brought out of the past, however, by the high-pitched and annoying beeping of her tablet, which lay on her little kitchen counter. Grumbling some expletives, she pushed out of her chair and scooped up the device, deciding she would change the ringtone (she always decided to do that when it rang, but never actually did). Though, she discovered she had two messages: one from Clemens and one from Emily. "Messaging me so early..." Kait mumbled. Like father like daughter, she supposed.

She decided to check Emily's first. Which was abnormal, but... it had been a good week since she talked to Emily. Even longer since they had seen each other in person. It pained her to have such a good friend. She never wanted to risk losing Emily, of course. That was a given. But more than that, the girl tried so hard to help Kaitlyn, and it made Kaitlyn feel terrible that Emily's plans always failed. She wanted to distance herself from Emily to avoid the pain, but... was it worth hurting Emily?

A bit of liquid fell on the tablet as she read the message. "Hello?" It was one of many over the past week. She wiped away another drop of liquid from the screen as she scrolled up through the fifteen messages she had gotten so far this week, all checking in on Kaitlyn and wanting to make sure she was okay. The woman wiped liquid from her eyes and began typing out a message.

"hey girl, im really sorry about not getting back 2 u... ilu but its just"

Kaitlyn sent the message and frowned. What excuse could she possibly give?

"idk... i dont have an excuse i guess. but look, i can make it up to you okay?? i should be free tonight so ill take you out somewhere nice to eat"

And then she swiped over to message from Clemens, sighing a bit as she read it. Hopefully it wouldn't interfere with her ability to treat Emily to something...

"im bangin ur daughter tonight, so if the job is tonight then i cant come"

He'd be able to understand that Kaitlyn was being facetious, right? Well, regardless, she could explain when she got to Scrap.INC. But getting chewed out by the old man was never fun... Deciding to take her chances, she turned the screen of the tablet off and went to grab her phone, transferring the data between her two devices with ease. Now, any messages she got would appear on her phone, although she never remembered to check the little archaic device.

She grabbed her handheld gauss cannon - the fifth iteration of the Rhino "hand cannon," all of which were custom tailored for Kaitlyn by a very "generous" underground gunsmith - and holstered it at her hip, making sure she had plenty of ammunition in the pouches clipped to her holster. Then she left and locked her apartment, starting the twenty minute walk down the grimy streets and alleys that made up the quickest route from her place to Scrap.INC.

 

[Dionysian Lumberjack]

Arthur stood in the middle of the frozen aisle of the food shop, holding a carton of ice cream in each of his hands. Each plastic box had a picture of three perfect scoops of nauseatingly artificial pink ice cream. It was going to be a surprise for Vivian, an award for doing well in school and celebration of her getting a leading role in her school play. A light smile played on his lips, before turning downwards into a befuddled frown.

The two dairy products in his hands were supposedly a higher quality than the regular old Jen & Berry, or the other crud that passed as ice cream. Both claimed to contain 100% real bovine milk, though Arthur was hesitant to trust labels ever since that time in the former Amazon Basin when he had received horse tranquilizers instead of anesthetics. Both brands we're almost laughably expensive, unsurprising given the ingredients.

As the former mercenary turned paramilitary was deliberating over which strawberry flavored, he felt a faint vibration tremor in his pant leg. It was a burner that he used for work, meaning Clemen's was worried about something. Putting both cartons in his basket, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out the rectangle of plastic.

"Every Scrapper. Meet at the main office in two hours. We got a priority Red assignment, all boots on the ground necessary"

Better haul ass to HQ then, thought Gallows as he put his EA and walked to the check out line. There was young man who was flipping through a magazine listlessly with a pair of headphones isolating him from the world. It was another oddity of the shop as well, the fact that they employed human employees. Something about charm or some other Earth concept that he had taken for granted in his childhood.

Placing the two cartons in front of the boy, because really he didn't look older than 16, he rapped his knuckles on the countertop.

"Yeah, yeah I'll ring yo-" The boy, Ethan if Gallows remembered correctly, paled when he looked at his customer's face.

"Ah, ah, I'm sorry sir. I'll ring you right up," he said hastily, hands blurring to put the ice cream into bags while muttering below his breath, "pleasedonthurtmepleasedonthurtme..."

Ignoring the boy, Gallows paid with a swipe of his card and picked up his bags. As he walked out of the shop, he caught his reflection in the window.

His expression was frigid and severe, blue eyes glinting and hard, promises of ruin and despair for those in his way.

His subordinates had called it his "happy times face", and as he climbed into his battered vehicle and drove towards Scrap Inc. Headquarters, he couldn't help but think of how appropriate the irony was.

~/~
​

As he pulled into hsi designated parking spot, because dammnit 10 years of service deserves at least a parking spot, Gallows paused and opened the glove department and pulled out his holster carrying his Mustang .45 pistol and sheath for his knife. Strapping the gun to his right thigh and the sheath to his left shoulder, he got out of his car and made his way into the building that had employed him for the aforementioned 10 years while carrying his plastic bag of ice cream.

Walking in, he saw he wasn't the first person there. Unsurprising considering he probably lived the farthest away from the headquarters in what could vaguely be called a nice part of Singularity City. Making his way to the medical officem he saw some of the younger members of the crew, and Jude, the only other senior member on the squad after Clemens, in the common area and around a table. Nodding to them, he noted the bags of candy on the table. He would have to thank Default later, and probably sign up of a dentist appointment for Vivian after the party. He turned away from the group went through a door labeled "MEDIC"

Walking into his "office", really a first aid station that could double as a surgical room in a pinch, he knelt beside his desk and opened a white cabinet. A puff of cool air blew over him as he placed his plastic bag into his personal fridge. As an afterthought he stuck a post-it note on the bag reading "anyone who takes this is paying for more and apologizing to Vivian. as well, blood work is due soon and i would like to remind everyone of the surplus of 18 gauge hypodermic needles that i have.'

Closing the minifridge, Gallows stood up and walked ove to the other sife of the room and opened a set of closet doors. Inside was his suit of grey Osiris ballistic plate armor, his Bastard and Potato Launcher, and ammo all neatly stored on racks and shelves. He slipped his holsters off, and the dozen pound armor set on with practiced ease, then replaced his holsters, and ended with the heavy steel boots that he laced up tightly.

With the same ease, he began slipping magazines and grenades into his armor's many pouches. Taking his Bastard rifle he slid a magazine into the bull-pup style gun, set the safety on, and hooked it onto his chest rig. He left his launcher and medical bag in the closet, those would change depending on the situation.

Having put on his armor, Gallows slid his helmet on. For an instant the world was covered in darkness before the billions of micro-cameras on the flat metal face synchronized and fed him a high definition image of the world around him. Grinning behind his face plate, he walked back out of his office.​

 

[Hellis]

Jacob stood leaned against the door to his office as the dregs they called their crew began to drop in one by one. The principal owner and office lawyer stood out among their motley crew in that he didn't smell of grease, sex, sweat or cheap excuse of cologne. His suit was pressed, his tie was straight, his face dignified and sharply featured. The tall black man was the epitome of control and class. Yet, the .45 revolver his hip showed that was indeed a Scrapper at heart.

"Sit" Was all he said as the first began to arrive. He had a unusually stoic face today. More so then usual. And that wasn't a small thing. Likewise, Clemens sat incredibly still, his face serious even as he puffed on a cigar. The large man was watching a holoscreen, projected so it was opaque and unreadable from their side. He nodded as the last one entered.

"Allright." He said finally, looking at his assembled crew. He noted his nephew was absent and groaned inwardly but pushed on. "None of you are amateaurs by now, in fact, I trust some of you with my life. OThers I tolerate on a proffesional basis. But only one of you us have taken on a priority Red before." He let them ponder that for a second before clarifiying. "That one is me. Some of you newer guys have have been on more then enough Yellows that I know I can trust you. And some of you older been trough the fire with that Orange Case a few years ago." He referred to taking down a triad run chop-shop to retrieve Virtua Rio technology that was meant to have been recalled ages ago. The security had been tough, and they had lost an old associate. Only Gallows would have been arround back then.

"Well. That shit was a cake walk." He flipped a key on the holoprojector and the screen projected what he had been looking a way that all could see. A large image of Pre-War Szvarabel rotated in a accurate 3D rendition for them to see. "This man, Is a warhero." He said simply. "Unit One. The Heroes that ook down ADAM. And he, is our target." he let that sink in, seing a few faces grimacing. There were a few of them old enough to atleast appreciate the legacy of Unit One.

"Apparently he didn't die with the rest of the unit, and have worked as a Technology nabbing rouge agent." He enlarged the screen as it shifted to seven heavily armed men apperently breaking into a heavily guarded locale. "This is the A.R.E.S weapon labs at the Lea Kong private station. Lea Kong is practically owned by ZEUS and ARES, and hitting it is like trying to knock over the proverbial Fort Knox." On the screen the seven operatives move smoothly from check point to check point, elimating everything they come across. As they come up to a thick valve door, one of them raise his arm and points at the door. The frame freezes.

"The man pointing at the Door is our target. Watch." There is a sudden blast of air tha tseem to displace everything light enough to be knocked up by a decent gust. And the door explodes inward. The first to speak in the silence that followed was Lau.

"Railgun… arm?"

"Apperently a ARES prototype. One of the things we are retrieving." Jacob said dryly. "I won't lie. The chance we pull this off without casualties is slim at best." He paused. "But the pay is 6 million. 3 confirmed. That is almost retirement levels money for a lot of you."

 

[Beowulf]

Rudy, Connor trusted dog and companion, was making his way over to the rather angry looking Jacob, hoping for a pet, when the big man said "sit." And with ears stuck to his head, he sat. This man was possibly the only other person Rudy would listen to, especially when he had that tone in his voice. The kind of tone that suggested murder was on the horizon.

Connor, still half asleep and not fully functioning, simply nodded his head and found a place to sit. Shortly after he sat, he patted his lap to call Rudy over. Rudy quickly turned his head to look at Connor, ears perking up, and then back to Jacob, his ears sinking a little, before quickly getting up and hurrying over to Connor, and sat down next to him. With Rudy by his side, Connor, lazily stroked the dog in between his ears as he slowly became more and more awake.

Right as the last person came into the room was when he was fully awake. And that was when the mission briefing started. A code red, eh? And one that made that code Orange he's heard so little about seem like a code yellow, maybe even green. Well, he could see why. They had to kill a war hero. And that war hero had stolen tech that could easily tear him a new and unwanted hole. Wait...

"Six million? And we got three up front? How long do we got to take care of the contract before they want their money back?" He wasn't phased by the possibility of him or Rudy being hurt or killed. That was a job hazard, one that they were notified of before he signed up. But a job was a job. And boss man was the one that decided what jobs they did and didn't take.

 

[RJS]

Felipe watched the footage with a keen level of interest. With the pain shunted aside by the euphoric rush running through his veins, he could focus on the events being fed to his brain via his prostheses without being distracted by the permanent burn that accompanied life in the absence of...chemical compensation. Had his eyes been more than cybernetic implants, they would have widened at the sight of their target in action. He took a deep breath at the sight of the weapon in action, before releasing it as a low whoosh. No doubt this was the kind of challenge that he'd never have got beating on junkies for cash, but still...

"So, anybody have a clue how we deal with this guy? I mean, I like the sound of that paycheck, but dead men got no cause for the cash, and this bastard just straight up wrecked a top security facility in seconds. I'm all for it, but I wanna know that I got a decent chance of being alive on the other side. Otherwise, why bother? You get me?"

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His former job had made him listen carefully. When someone listened carefully, it wasn't listening to what was being said. Real world people often lied about the reason they didn't pay the parking meter, or the reason why they got into a fight with some random nobody on the streets. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Listening meant listening to the weight of the words. The way someone carried themselves. The way someone spoke. How their words sat in the back of their throat and how long it held on their tongue. Weight carried. It was heavy in the mind and allowed him to assess the level of threat.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When Clemens word were heavy and tended to draw out each syllable of the words as if they were as heavy as a paperweight. He understood the importance and the tragedy of a mission. Of course he heard the words too. War Hero, sounded dangerous. Code Red. He had been here only five years now to not even experience a Code Red. Dangerous words. Like flashing alarms before a missile strike. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And the video that played. While Clemens spoke. Like dread, the kind of dreadful atmosphere you get played with shrill violins in a horror flick. Impressive, yet it made the rest of them look futile and weak. Connor and Felip were first to speak, even if they didn't speak in the way Myles imagined. Words carried hesitation, maybe even a stutter or pause. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Meanwhile, the thing that Myles focused on was less about the budget, less about how they were really going to take this guy down. And what actually would punch a hole through a man who took down top security like he was cutting butter with a sharpened sword. It was excessive. It was overkill. It was danger. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was what looked to be a good fight. Perhaps because he gave up living a long time ago, Myles pointed up his pen that he had been using to take down notes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What's going to kill this guy?" Myles asked, "I am working on what to bring. A grocery list of death." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Meanwhile, in the corner where no one had yet not noticed him. Default watched the video and listened to Clemens. Clemens sounded mad. At least more mad than normal. Not crazy. But mad. Like anger. More grrr. Which meant this Code Red was very important. The video suggested even dangerous. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His helmet reflected Default's current mood[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]-_-[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Worse was they were paying them cheaply. To deal with a very dangerous person. ,Made Default think the people who hired them thought they were going to die. So an upfront cheap price, so they weren't losing too much money on them. Which made Default angry that they didn't think they could handle the job. He practically leapt out of the corner and pointed to where the screen had been. He meant to be gesturing to the War Hero.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Then made a slicing motion across his neck. They were going to kill the War Hero. That's all he knew. To prove these cheap bastards they were worth more money. He made a hand gesture for money. And gave a rather exuberant jump.[/BCOLOR]

 

[CasketCase]

It was shortly before the meeting began that he noticed it; a lone lollipop sat before him on the table and Jude was quite certain he knew who it was from. One would have to be a complete rookie not to know of Default's antics, but it was the choice of candy that annoyed him. For one reason or another, the helmeted child idolized the image of Jude smoking, a habit completely antithetical to his lifestyle. He had confronted the boy a while back, asking him if he was so set to see him die a slow death, but it appeared to be ignorance, not malevolence behind Default's actions. Still, he kept finding lollipops addressed to him, and so, his only act of defiance was to ignore its presence.

Thankfully, Jacob and Clemens were there to keep him from stewing on that topic, finally speaking to the band of fools and failures that they were. The latter brought up the color codes like he usually did, and like always, made a big deal about how dangerous each of them was. Surprisingly, today was different, a welcomed change of pace, although Clemens did not disappoint by metaphorically shitting on their past assignments. At long last, Clemens finally directed the holoprojection towards them, showing them just what target was worthy enough to end up on the top his precious color code chart. A rarity in life, Jude could not fault Clemens' judgment. A Unit One veteran taught in schools as being the best of the best, or rather, had been. If what a fraction of what they said was true, they would be dealing with death and misery incarnated, and that was before the modifications! Before he realized it, he was grimacing from the thought alone.

The others began to stir with their reactions, most noticeably Default, who jumped out from whatever corner he wallflowered from and began with his usual charades. This time, however, Jude could agree with the sentiment, another rarity right on the heels of the first. "I've seen frivolous lawsuits that paid higher than what they're offering, but I suppose a low-paying, high-risk job with slim chances of survival cleaning up their past mess is just what the the one percent would offer, after all."