Dragonnova
Well-Known Member
One section of Funky City near the outskirts used to be heavily industrialized. The company had (Perhaps foolishly) focused most of their assests in this area. What it was has long been forgotten and it is assumed that they went bankrupt. Not long after the buildings and plants were shut down, the ground beneath them proved to not be as stable as they had thought. The earth shifted, shook, and in someplaces simply sank. Most if not all the buildings collapsed with it. Most everyone was away at that time, thankfully. However now it has a silence that has settled over it, one that has a bit of a chilling effect to paranoid people. All that is left is the broken remains of man's creation, showing that nature still had some fight in it.
"Crazy motherfucker. All of you Malasians are."
"Just keep going and be quiet."
It was among these husks of buildings that a pair of Nepleslian men navigated through. In front was a young punk probably in his lower twenties, all spiky hair and black gothic clothing. He seemed to be leading an older man who looked slightly out of place with Funky City. He had one cybernetic eye that glowed a very dark purple and his left arm was completely cybernetic, his fingers narrowing into sharp tips at the ends. He wore a trench coat that had faded into a darker shade of gray and he wore a hood that seemed to serve no other purpose than hiding part of his face. (His organic eye was difficult to see.) His thick boots felt pieces of debris crunch underneath as he stepped over obstacles that the youth led him through.
The fact that is was raining pretty heavily wasn't helping much. At one point the youth slipped and almost fell on his ass. The man behind him pushed him forward to make him keep moving. The kid grumble. "Don't touch me asshole." No response.
They stopped in front of one of the last few (barely) standing buildings in the area. A warehouse that the roof had been halfway torn off and several sections of the walls were missing. The youth sighed with exasperation, "Well here you go, dick. The stupidly named Spectre's Haven. Aint no one here right now though so I don't know what the fuck you want here."
The man slowly approached the youth. He turned around and asked, "So how about my payment... huh? What are y-" His words were cut off as his throat was impaled by the claws on the man's mechanical fingers. He could only make a choking sound as his eyes started to roll back into his head. The man withdrew his daggerish hand and shoved him off to the side. The kid hit the ground and could only writhe as he bled to death. "Seek it in the next life." Was the man's only response.
He stepped into the warehouse, pulling out a slip of paper that vaguely detailed his purpose here.
Zahren put it back in his pocket and looked around. That was the problem with dealing outside your system. Lack of local information. He frowned a bit as he noticed the various possessions lying about both inside and outside the warehouse. Apparently the homeless or any bloke that wanted to just get away liked to lose themselves among the debris.
It appeared he arrived first, so he tinkered with his arm for a little bit. Checking and adjusting the settings on the somewhat outdated piece of machinery.
"Crazy motherfucker. All of you Malasians are."
"Just keep going and be quiet."
It was among these husks of buildings that a pair of Nepleslian men navigated through. In front was a young punk probably in his lower twenties, all spiky hair and black gothic clothing. He seemed to be leading an older man who looked slightly out of place with Funky City. He had one cybernetic eye that glowed a very dark purple and his left arm was completely cybernetic, his fingers narrowing into sharp tips at the ends. He wore a trench coat that had faded into a darker shade of gray and he wore a hood that seemed to serve no other purpose than hiding part of his face. (His organic eye was difficult to see.) His thick boots felt pieces of debris crunch underneath as he stepped over obstacles that the youth led him through.
The fact that is was raining pretty heavily wasn't helping much. At one point the youth slipped and almost fell on his ass. The man behind him pushed him forward to make him keep moving. The kid grumble. "Don't touch me asshole." No response.
They stopped in front of one of the last few (barely) standing buildings in the area. A warehouse that the roof had been halfway torn off and several sections of the walls were missing. The youth sighed with exasperation, "Well here you go, dick. The stupidly named Spectre's Haven. Aint no one here right now though so I don't know what the fuck you want here."
The man slowly approached the youth. He turned around and asked, "So how about my payment... huh? What are y-" His words were cut off as his throat was impaled by the claws on the man's mechanical fingers. He could only make a choking sound as his eyes started to roll back into his head. The man withdrew his daggerish hand and shoved him off to the side. The kid hit the ground and could only writhe as he bled to death. "Seek it in the next life." Was the man's only response.
He stepped into the warehouse, pulling out a slip of paper that vaguely detailed his purpose here.
Zahren put it back in his pocket and looked around. That was the problem with dealing outside your system. Lack of local information. He frowned a bit as he noticed the various possessions lying about both inside and outside the warehouse. Apparently the homeless or any bloke that wanted to just get away liked to lose themselves among the debris.
It appeared he arrived first, so he tinkered with his arm for a little bit. Checking and adjusting the settings on the somewhat outdated piece of machinery.