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Amada Rubi

"I.. oh, I really need some coffee."

0 · 471 views · located in Solar System

a character in “Rhapsody in Silver”, as played by MyEyesAreBlack

Description

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Name: Amada Rubi
Age: 29

Description: Amada is on the tall side. In fact, that's what everybody notices, before anything else, when they first meet her. To be precise, she stands five feet eleven inches. Her abdominal musculature is plainly visible, owed to an intensive physical regimen.

Personality: Regardless of what you might expect a corporate security and control officer to be like, Amada's close, but probably not a bullseye. Let's start with the stuff you might expect, shall we? You could probably describe her as being on the gruff side, in that she's rough around the edges. All right, to be fair, "rough" here means something along the lines of "touch her and get cut". Here, the value of "cut" can be translated as "oh, my sweet god in heaven, why is there so much blood pouring out of my fingers?" Not the most sociable person, bluntly put. That isn't to say she hasn't enjoyed a coffee break and a good chat now and again, but to more permanently reach that point one must first tread no-man's-land, navigating barbed wire and mines. Or just hope she's in a very amiable mood. Not her traditional amicability, either, as that just means she feels like taunting somebody. Emotionally, she's a bit distant, or perhaps disconnected. She makes it a point to not take her job personally, it's all just business. She doesn't know the people whose lives she's ruining - or ending - and doesn't care. All that matters to her are the numbers flowing into her bank account. As long as that sum keeps going up, she's content. To ensure that stream's steady, she molds perfectly into the job description. Ruthlessness, efficiency, and pragmatism. On the flip side of her coin, Amada's got herself a very definite sense of humor. Even if it's often a tad dark. She's overly sardonic at times, and tends to torment the people she works with. Despite this, she's not actually antisocial. One would be hard pressed to call her clammed up, and people don't inherently bother her - particular things do, but everyone's got those pet peeves.

Equipment: Amada's past, coupled with her profession, affords some useful benefits. Her best friend is her sidearm: A semi-automatic Delgado M7RG, loaded with 13mm slugs fed from a twelve-round box magazine. Recoil is mitigated via a K-PET "anchor" seated behind the firing mechanism. It's sleek, heavy, lethal, and and accurate out to seventy metres. At home in a holster strapped to her thigh, it's ready when needed. Also always within reach is her combat knife. The single-edged blade is six inches of high carbon steel, and has been a loyal tool for years. At her disposal, but not always by her side, is a compact SO5 PDW, loaded with the same ammunition as her pistol in a thirty round mag. She keeps a pair of tactical glasses on hand. Fitted with a comprehensive HUD, this device allows her to see in multiple spectrums, including thermal and night vision. It can also receive information, allowing her access to building schematics, and even waypoints, when synced with an assisting computer.

Abilities: A skilled martial artists, Amada is proficient in several styles, most notably kickboxing and Combat Sambo, foregoing flashier forms for - mind the alliteration - a veritable bulwark of offense and defense. She is also an excellent marksman, though she tends to dislike sharpshooting. Her extensive combat experience, and peak physical condition, make her a dangerous up close and personal opponent, which is where she feels most at home. While a competent tactician, she's no chess master. She has also honed her abilities as an interrogator. In an industry where information can make or break any struggle, there are times one must dirty themselves by doing a bit of digging. That being said, she finds torture tasteless, and generally is skeptical of anything gained from grilling sources. It is worth noting her distinct disadvantage - as she lacks any PET abilities - has forced her to adapt to fighting individuals potentially much more powerful thanks to said gifts.

History: Amada was nobody before she turned seventeen. Her father had worked on terraforming projects, and died in an accident when she was twelve. This left her mother, who was employed in the legal department of a major company, to raise her daughter alone. If Amada ever cared enough to describe that relationship, she would probably call it "empty". Her mother was distant. She managed to provide for her child, but showed little to no affection in the meantime. This left her frustrated, and somewhat resentful of her surviving parent. Feeling unfulfilled at home, she enlisted in the military shortly after her seventeenth birthday. This decision would come to define who she was for the rest of her life.

Adapting was easy for her, and she greatly enjoyed her time as an Army Ranger. Through her competence and capability, Amada eventually attained the rank of Corporal. A steady longing eventually grew into an overpowering need to go her own way. Finally, at the age of twenty-four, she resigned her commission, despite being on the track for further advancement. She knew full well that returning to civilian life would be difficult, so she sought a career that catered to her skills. As it turned out, megacorporations were often eager to hire on ex-military for security purposes. She was eventually contracted by Albrecht-Peterson. Primarily a technology firm, the majority of their resources go into weapons research and development, engineering, and biotechnology. Anyone who threatened, harmed, or even posed a plausible risk had to be removed. In this, Amada distinguished herself, diligently executing her responsibilities. Soon enough, she was even directing the operations of a small team of her own.

Extra: Her favorite genre of music is jazz.

So begins...

Amada Rubi's Story

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Character Portrait: Amada Rubi
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The fluorescent dark of the city night was punctuated by a hot, orange ember that grew into a fiery gold. Shimmering briefly, it faded back to a dim burn, a wispy, pungent cloud following moments after. Amada closed her eyes as she took another drag, focusing on the flavor of the smoke; the heat as it rushed into her lungs. Her shoulders slumped lazily, the back of her head propped against a wall, a thin smile curving her lips. It had been a long day, and it was not quite over yet. The cigarette helped to make her feel more relaxed - a quick escape, a temporary distraction to clear her head. Honestly, she would have preferred a hot cup of coffee, or maybe some gin, but one was currently unattainable, and the other for after she had clocked out. This was fine, for now.

Something reached her ear, and her eyes slowly opened. Shifting her weight, she leaned to her right and peaked around the corner. Beyond was an alley. Dark. Much darker than where she was stood. Nothing looked to particularly demand her attention. She settled herself again, sucking in another deep breath.

"Careful," a voice, coming out hollowed by the receiver in her ear, cautioned, "Looks like we've got some movement."

"Kindly be more specific?" Amada asked, barely moving her lips, voice kept low so as not to arouse suspicion.

A broken scoff, "Yeah, sure. Just lemme hit that magical button that brings up more precise info. 'Cuz that's a thing."

"Keep up with the lip, I'm gonna tears yours off." She straightened her posture, preparing herself regardless. Unspecified as the intel was, she would have been a fool not to heed it. Her gaze slowly roamed the street, passing over pedestrians, cars, garish neon signs, and storefronts. None of it screamed danger. Not yet. That was the worst part. "Mercer, can you hand me anything more concrete, or are your ears as bad as your dumbass friend's?"

"Don't rope me in with him, please," a tired sigh answered, sounding all the more weathered through the comm link.

"You're gonna throw me under the b-"

"Parker," Amada exhaled his name, along with a puff of smoke, "Intel. Until you have it, feel free to keep shutting up."

Mercer continued. "Reports of movement are all we're getting. Not sure if it's a stonewall, or nobody's got a solid lock."

"If somebody's not doing their job right, we've just got to set the goddamn example for them." Pushing herself off the wall, she was about to go on a little stroll, when she noticed the sounds of a struggle. Sharp impacts of something soft - bodies, more than likely. Then a gunshot, and a shrill cry. She had her gun in hand with a single, fluid reflex, tilting her head as she tried to see what was going on. "We-"

"Contacts! We've got confirmation, multiple contacts!" Parker alerted, tone urgent. His words were accompanied by a veritable rush of gunfire from behind her. Amada about faced and moved for cover as a nearby car exploded with a heavy clap and rush of intense heat.

"Christ, I'd like some decent goddamned warning for a change!" Amada snarled, performing a cursory assessment of the situation. She pulled out her tactical glasses and slipped them on. The HUD came online, quickly tracking friendlies by their IFFs and painting them in green. Anyone with a gun who wasn't tagged turned into fair game. She spotted a couple out in the open and lit them up. Four squeezes of the trigger, two rounds in each body. They fell, and she moved on for a better vantage. "Do we have eyes overhead?"

"Working on it," Mercer informed, barely any tension in his voice. The fighting seemed to be moving, and she bolted across the street, right into a guy as he stepped out from his cover. Before he had a chance of reacting, Amada kicked in his left knee. He fell, screaming, and then dropped as she stuck her knife in his throat. The blade came back out as easily as it went in, and she was on her way again.

"I'm not sure which is gonna be more interesting," she mused while repositioning, "The fight, or watching the cleanup."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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#, as written by Chari
Huey moved in closer to the fight one piece of cover at a time. Honestly, it might not have been that necessary to be so careful; the two sides were 100% focused on each other. As he got closer, he could see in far more detail about what was going on. He first saw a woman charge down and kill some of the mobsters like she was just going for a simple stroll. Another person was hiding behind cover-- was he taking notes? Huey supposed he must have been some kind of reporter or something. There was also... wait a minute, was that Guy? What on earth was he doing here, last Huey knew he had a nice job fixing up broken stuff. Why on earth did it look like he was trying to get into this fight with only a wrench?

He suddenly threw himself to the side as a bullets started to spray the area he had been standing. Some of the stray bullets that would have hit him were stopped cold by his kinetic dampening shield, which was good. What was not good was the fact that 2 or 3 people had turned off their current targets to focus him. They had him pinned down pretty well, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

First off, he was able to pick up a lot of the small chunks of road that had been shot off and fire them at the people who had him pinned with his telekinesis. The rocks weren't thrown any faster than he could throw by hand, but that was because these rocks were a mere distraction; one that worked, as it turned out. One of them dodged out of the way of the rocks, but the other two got hit. They staggered for just a second, but that was more than long enough for Huey to put a couple bullets in them. He went with nonlethal takedowns, but they were definitely out of the fight, judging by the way that their knees had been blown out completely. The person who had dived for cover popped out then, but he was taken down instantly. This shot was definitely lethal, but Huey did not have time to admire his work. Guy had charged into a group of men, and while he could take out those in front of him, he didn't see a pair of men coming up behind him. That was not good.

Huey ran flat out toward Guy as he threw out his power. He pulled one of the men away violently, smashing them into a wall. The other turned in surprise just in time for Huey to smash the butt of his gun into his neck. The man collapsed bonelessly as Huey turned to fire off some rounds at the men in front of Guy. One went down to Huey's bullets as the others went down due to a massive swing of his wrench. Huey quickly pulled him down into cover before more people could fire upon them. He teased good-naturedly, "Well, what a place to meet again, eh Guy? Hope this isn't your day job, you need a little but more experience, and you are already looking like an old man."

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Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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From cover, Guy waved over to the nearest car. A young man opened the door and immediately burst into the alleyway he had been attempting to secure. Once he had gone from sight Guy made sure to return his shield to himself. Now that that was taken care of, and by now all the civilians left were either dead or gone, he turned to Huey.

"Yeah, well breaking stuff is for the young people. The old people are all the ones who fix everything for you kids to smash again. Do you realize how much paperwork someone's gonna have to fill on those potholes you just made?"

He flicked his cigarette into a pile of burning debris. For the past couple whacks of his wrench he'd been sucking on filter. He took a chance to look over the low wall they were crouched behind. There was still some back and forth fighting going on, but if Huey was here, from what he'd heard, there wouldn't be too much trouble wrapping everything up. Plus there was a woman in dark clothing that seemed to know what she was doing. Lethally, yes, but to each their own. The kid hiding behind a car with a keyboard was other news, however... he mumbled something under his breath about how kids couldn't put down their damn boards for a few minutes, but he didn't think Huey could hear.

"The one with the stabby-stabby-shooty-shooty, she with you? Because I'd hate to be on her bad side." He made sure his armor covered his kidneys for good measure. "And that writer better get out of here before some random guy shoots up that car he's hiding behind. Unless he wants awards. I hear dead writers get the best awards."

He peeked over again to confirm a pattern he'd seen. "Regardless, we need to take the rest out before the fight moves any further up the street. I'd hate for the Stallion to get too shot up." He realized they were moving closer to the orphanage, but didn't want to explicitly bring it up in case these guys were really after Huey. Wouldn't want to give them any tips for where to start shooting.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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Stalker had been walking the empty streets for about ten minutes, getting as far away as he could from the ArmuCorp Citadel as he could, when the gunshots started.

They started, along with the screaming, when Stalker was approximately fifty metres away from the source. Railguns, certainly; he could feel the magnetic pulses lightly fondling his exosuit. Something was amiss.

Stalker drew his handgun out of a coat pocket, the trusted Zenith, and looked around for a place to elevate himself to a position where he could view the situation at minimal risk. Failing that, his only choice was to advance forward, slowly cutting through alley and side streets until he could smell the blood. Finally, he was there.

By now the magnetic pulses were like waves breaking against a beach; the sheer amount of firing going on was nearly insurmountable. They were incredibly powerful railguns, too; almost certainly corporate. No one else could afford them, surely.

Turning a corner, the battle was finally visible: a group of corporate security guards, fighting some members of the criminal underworld. A curiosity, but one that required observation; could these criminals hold off the corporates? If so, Stalker was impressed; but not enough to prevent him from killing any survivors at the end anyways. That's what they got for making such a disruption. Stalker remained within the shadows, taking an opportunity to shoot out a nearby neon sign that exposed him somewhat; no one would hear the shot off to the side here.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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#, as written by Chari
"The stabby-stabby-shooty-shooty chick? Never seen her before in my life," Huey snarked back, "but I can definitely see where you are coming from with that one." She was certainly cutting down the gangsters pretty efficiently, far more so then they were doing in return. Only 2 or 3 of the corporate troops were down as compared to 15 or 20 of the criminals. So far so good.

But then guy pointed out something he hadn't noticed; they were rather close to the orphanage. "Yeah," he responded once more, "lets try to end this before things really started to get messy. You wanna make sure no one sneaks up on us?" Without waiting for a response, he took his rifle off his lower back. It was still in the compacted mode used to make it take up much less space (not to mention to be less noticeable) but it took only a moment or two for it to flip out into its full glory. And then, it was go time.

Huey braced the gun on the hood of the car that the pair was hiding behind, keeping his profile as low as he could. Through his sunglasses, he could see a basic HUD that told him various information such as distance to the target, wind speed and direction, time, and other useful things. At the moment, he didn't really need any of it; they were at such a close range that he would give up his rifle willingly if he missed. A deep breath later, he was already firing. He was aiming for non-lethal takedowns for now, which involved him taking out peoples knees and legs. Quite honestly, a good number of them would probably never walk again, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. At least they were still alive.

His shooting was smooth and mechanical, almost robotic. It was no surprised that in less than 8 seconds later, ten shots had put ten people on the ground. He pulled out his magazine to reload, but one he did he saw the fighting was over. The woman had taken out the rest of the main group, and looking behind him he could see that Guy had beat a couple more himself. Only one thing left to do then.

He re-compacted his rifle and slung it in its place along his lower back. He stepped out from behind his cover slowly and as smoothly as he could, his halfway up to show he was unarmed. He called out, "You mind not killing the ones that aren't already dead? It would be nice to see what kind of bounties they have."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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To say they lacked discipline would have been.. generous. As far she could tell, their "training" - if one wanted to call it such - probably amounted to little more than: "This end is where the shooty stuff happens." They had no control, and their trigger fingers were much too itchy. Popping off round after round in rapid succession in the general direction of the target. Sure, Amada had heard the term "spray and spray" before, but never actually encountered it. Mildly amusing, for sure. Leading shots also appeared a foreign concept, she imagined they simply pointed and fired, because all their bullets ended up just behind her. Even with the extreme velocity of a railgun slug, travel time was still a thing.

They were spread out, and scattering as the corporate troops thinned their ranks. That made getting up close even easier, and she took every opportunity. A gun provided a false sense of security. It presented a hypothetical comfort zone, allowing you to hold your enemy off within a certain perimeter of your effective range. Unfortunately for them, that only worked if you had the awareness to enforce it. All it took was a basic distraction. Their eyes veered off, locking onto someone or something else, and then she was behind them. She could not help but spare a quick, "'Sup," right before breaking a windpipe. He dropped his gun, clutching his throat, eyes bugging. His buddy swung around to meet her, and for his trouble he got a knife straight through his wrist. She wrenched the knife down, forcing him to his knees, and executed him with a single shot. The slug passed out the back of his skull, burrowing through the pavement below.

Up ahead, another group was just taking notice. Four of them had ducked into an alley. Her angle gave a perfect vantage of three, the last was just a head poking out from around the corner. Sidestepping apprehensively, she raised her sidearm and squeezed the trigger. The top of the fourth punk's head turned into confetti and a chunk of the wall beside the others shattered, spraying them with shrapnel shorn off by the force of the impact. The least affected went down first, and she dropped the others before they recovered.

"Okay, okay, okay," Mercer mumbled through the comm. "Finally got some overhead, that gives us a nice spectrum. Don't think you really need it, at this point. Looks like the festivities are dying down."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." Amada watched the IFFs as they bobbed around on her HUD, a map of the small section of the city the fighting occupied gave her their exact positions. "I don't think we're getting overtime for this anyway, so fuck it." Just as she was starting to feel like she could relax a little, another bunch that had been cornered pushed back. Slugs whizzed by into the street, and Amada went for cover before returning fire. To her surprise, gunshots rang out from behind her. Rifle rounds pounded the hostiles, but all the inflicted wounds were nonlethal. "Oh, great," she rolled her eyes. That could only mean one thing.

Once they had been thoroughly.. decommissioned.. Amada stepped out tentatively, warily searching for any more surprises. Spying nothing, she looked back to where the shots had come from. The gunman in question stepped out from behind a car, hands slightly up in a peace offering. "You mind not killing the ones that aren't already dead? It would be nice to see what kind of bounties they have." Her eyes swept over him in a cursory analysis, and then briefly hopped to another man a bit behind him.

"Shoulda known the gunshots would have the rats scurrying. Afraid someone's going to screw over your claims?" Amada flicked her knife, casting any lingering drops of blood onto the ground, before sheathing it. Her pistol stayed in her hand as a precaution, but it lingered at her side. "Look, I don't have anything against saving a few bullets. If you wanna get to scavenging, you're more than welcome to," she sneered, momentarily glancing aside to check her peripheral. "Just try not to do anything overly stupid, would you? Gonna have enough paperwork to file, as it is." She shifted her weight, sliding her right foot back a few inches.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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Brian's predominant thought as the fight went down was how much he detested the taste of bile in his throat. The blood just... everywhere from the gunshots. From experience with the aftermath of shootings he could tell this one was rather surgical for a fight of this scale, but still. The amount of blood spattered in the streets, and the SCREAMS. Oh god the screams of these people... it reminded him of the old adage "war is hell".

But he watched, transfixed on the action, his mind focusing solely on the battle unfolding before him, attempting to drown the combat roars and the screams of bloodlust, death, pain, and fear from bystander and combatant alike. He watched as the uniformed group began methodically destroying their opposition, even though from what he could tell they were attacked first. One thing of note he made as the gangsters (as he was labeling them) began retreating is the addition of a third group into the fray. Seemed to be a two-man team. They weren't uniformed in their combat or tactics like the corp.... WAS THAT A GOD-DAMNED WRENCH!? Some dude was in there hitting people with a WRENCH!?

Brian raised an eyebrow at the curiosity in the fray and immediately began to look more closely at this guy... From what he could tell this man was a civvie, he seemed to have no real combat gear... but he seemed to be by FAR the greatest PET wave emission in this firefight. Even through the railgun blasts Brian could tell that. Guessing by the nature of the wrench (Brian still smirked to himself at the comedy in bringing a wrench to a gunfight)he guessed this guy was specialized in some sort of physical manipulaion PET waves. Either deflecting, or telekenesis, or something like that. Brian made a mental note of this guy as a potential "main character" for his story (sort of an everyman, caught up in the corporate-gangster shootout bullshit) and moved onto his partner.

This one seemed to be better equipped than "the repairman", armed with a pistol and it looked like a shield from what he could tell... He seemed to be a damn cool head too, shooting mechanically during the firefight, while it looked like just chatting with wrenchhead over there (it seemed like he was joking around, possibly friends?). This one also seemed to be using PETs as evidenced by the body throwing stunt he pulled as he went over to his current position. Specialized in Telekenesis most likely, rather strong to pick up multiple people at once as well, he noted. Other than that he didn't seem too specia.... Never mind.

It seemed like a switch had just been flipped. Suddenly the telekenesis guy whipped out a rifle and mounted it on the front of the cover he was behind. Brian immediately made note in his head about this guy. I mean, who carries a rifle with them on a daily basis? He wasn't corporate and CERTAINLY wasn't gangster (considering he was shooting them up) so... didn't leave many options in his head... perhaps bounty hunter he reflected on his initial thought of the shooting... He could dwell upon it later. But as he was thinking this he was transfixed as the guy launched ten rapid shots from the rifle with terrifying accuracy. Short story, this guy was DAMN scary.

And just like that, the fighting was over. He scanned over the battlefield and the carnage, bile once again rising to his throat, almost forgotten before in his focus on the fight and possible payday. It didn't seem like anyone was escaping from the side of the gangsters he noted as well, scanning with his own PET waves. It seemed a complete rout. Taking a glance over at the victorious groups he quickly identified the leader of the corporate force as she flicked away blood from her knife and shot a couple words at the other pair.

Scary. Maybe he could avoid interviewing her.

At this point he was nearly fully standing, leaning against what he now noted to be a VERY nice car he had used for cover. Oh well, at least he hadn't puked on it. He decided to let the cheering crowds and the adreneline die down a bit as he took a deep breath and sat on the car's hood determining he REALLY needed that drink later. Maybe it could get this shitty taste out of his throat.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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With the corporates victorious and the last dregs of the gangsters' forces in flight, the situation was clear. A small number of militarily-equipped corporates, the leader being the almost disturbingly efficient woman who had almost singlehandedly butchered the gangsters. Not a threat, assuming Stalker could get the jump on her, and the corporate soldiers themselves would be easy; he had survived hundreds of them in the past. Two heavily-armed men who seemed somewhat unaligned, crouching behind a car. They were slightly more unpredictable; one of them with a rifle was looking in the other direction and would take a while to turn it around, but he appeared to have telekinetic PET powers which presented a danger. His companion was armed only with a wrench, but the fact that he had charged into such a crossfire with it and survived guaranteed that he had some form of PET powers. Some distance away, an unarmed man with a notebook was behind a car, but he would be no threat at all.

Stalker shook his head; why was he considering butchering these anyways? What would he do with them at all? The corporates would most likely kill him should they recognize him, and as for the others, he had no vendetta against them.

Further observation was a must; Stalker had already bloodied his hands tonight and there was no reason to bloody them yet again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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Guy tried to avoid watching the battle as the both the woman in the black coat and Huey methodically took out the remaining gangsters in the street. He could stomach seeing the violence during a fight, that was normal enough... but this was a massacre. People dying left and right- Huey could try to go nonlethal if he wanted, but nothing was stopping the girl- and he could barely stand it. It wasn't so much the fact that it was chilling to see a grown man's head explode like a piΓ±ata at a 12 year old's birthday party, but the fact that he was becoming more accustomed to that brand of violence as time went on. He made sure to remind himself that he should move to a better neighborhood when he could afford it.

To keep his mind off the battle he focused on keeping a shield around the people who needed it. Protecting a corporate guy here, trying to lessen a fatal shot to only a debilitating injury there... that type of good guy stuff. He found himself mostly watching over the one other person who wasn't knee deep in a pile of some guy's blood, and that was that writer. He probably didn't notice all the shrapnel and other nonsense flying his way as he stuffed his face into that projected screen he was constantly writing in. Not that any of it made it within a meter of the kid with the invisible net surrounding him. He saw the kid's eyes darting everywhere on the battlefield, even himself for a few moments, and it made him kind of uneasy. If he turned up on some random blog somewhere it would be nothing but hell from his coworkers.

Soon enough the battle was over... or he at least guessed so from the uneasy silence that fell over everyone. He tilted his head back and took a massive swig from his flask of mystery drink before standing up next to Huey. Huey put his weapon aside when he spoke to the gunwoman, but Guy shouldered his 'weapon' casually and tossed another cigarette into his mouth. "You mind not killing the ones that aren't already dead? It would be nice to see what kind of bounties they have." Guy had to hand it to him; the kid had balls. Not that he probably couldn't handle himself, it was just a hell of a way to talk to a woman. Kids had no respect these days.

"Shoulda known the gunshots would have the rats scurrying. Afraid someone's going to screw over your claims? Look, I don't have anything against saving a few bullets. If you wanna get to scavenging, you're more than welcome to. Just try not to do anything overly stupid, would you? Gonna have enough paperwork to file, as it is."

Well, that was that then. Guy realized he'd been holding his breath and let it out. He wasn't sure how the kids would interact; it could have easily ended in another gunfight as far as he knew. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. "Well then, if you need me I'll be at the Stallion." The bar was not one to shut down because of a little gunfight, even if the streets were emptied. Likely the barkeep had made drinks half priced so people were more likely to spend all their cash for that one last drink before they were potentially blown away. The bar was fun on a quiet night, but the best stories were told (or made) when everyone there was borderline blackout. That was something he could hardly pass up. He started over to the bar, focusing on the swinging doors instead of the pools of blood gathering in the street.

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Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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#, as written by Chari
"Shoulda known the gunshots would have the rats scurrying. Afraid someone's going to screw over your claims? Look, I don't have anything against saving a few bullets. If you wanna get to scavenging, you're more than welcome to. Just try not to do anything overly stupid, would you? Gonna have enough paperwork to file, as it is."

"Well, I like to think of myself as a better scavenger than a rat... maybe a hyena, or a vulture." Huey took the jab with good humor as he walked over to the people he downed. As he heard Guy's comment, he responded, "Save me a seat old man, I will be right there after I am done with this."

Looking down at one of the people he took out, he pressed a finger to the side of his glasses. His shades were custom designed and state of the art, but it was only thanks to Eva that he could do this. A box formed around the face of one of the men at his feet and, after a brief pause, displayed connected to it his name, bounty, rapsheet, and all sorts of other things about his life. Really, it was amazing what you could get when you crossed cutting edge facial recognition software with the power of the internet.

In the end though, they were all pretty much small-fry. None of them was worth the trouble of waiting around for, so he went over to take a look at the ones that had been killed next. He glanced at a few of them, til he glanced at the one missing part of his skull.

It took a moment for the software to identify him, but when it did, he let out a whistle of appreciation. "Damn, this guy was worth quite a bit. Also says there is a reward for turning in something he stole." Patted the guy down, found what he was looking for in a pants pocket, and turned around to the women. He threw something small at her in a soft arc. "Well, your kill, your spoils. Don't spend it all in one place, Miss Amada Rubi. Man, I can't believe people still use jump drives in this day and age."

He turned and started to walk away. He went to flip of his facial recognition (it was funny what you could do with that), then, out of habit, flickered his infrared vision for a second. While he didn't make any obvious signs of surprise, he did raise a deliberate eyebrow at shady spot he passed, before he walked by the writer. He called out in passing to the poor guy, "You might want to get a drink too man, you are as pale as a ghost." And with that last comment, he slipped by him and straight down to the Stallion.

He took a seat next to his old acquaintance at the bar. He flicked his hand up to look at what he had stashed up his sleeve. It was a small electronic device, one that had been designed to do one specific task; copy the contents of an electronic device. He stored it back up his sleeve as quickly as he had taken it out, then turned to the scruffy mechanic. "Well, what a way to meet up again, huh?"

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Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi Character Portrait: Guy Clarkson
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Amada snorted, the corner of her lips quirking into a minute smirk at the bounty hunter's remark. He had guts, and she wasn't one to fault somebody for that. That depended on how exactly they used their nerve. Her eyes rolled to the other guy, the one with the.. wrench. He was quick to excuse himself from the proceedings, something she was a little envious of. Until they got an all clear, she wasn't going anywhere just yet.

"Cleaners are on the way, and the PR lackeys are going with them. Preliminary reports will be coming in soon after." Mercer relayed, sounding more worn out every time he opened his mouth. Now that all the action had passed, they were starting to feel the weight of the night bearing down on them, along with the rest of the day before it.

"Real glad they're the ones handling it. Shooting people's simple, easing their minds isn't really my forte." She watched the gunman check out the downed hostiles, living and deceased. He did not seem particularly excited about any of them, which was not a surprise. Most thugs on the street had little more than pocket change to their name, if that. Going out of your way to hunt down the big names just felt like too much work; especially annoying when everyone else would be targeting them, too. She preferred having a steady source of income, as opposed to the occasional big payday.

"Damn, this guy was worth quite a bit. Also says there is a reward for turning in something he stole." Her interrupted her thoughts, and started patting down the corpse. She was about to comment on the matter, when he suddenly tossed her something. She snatched it out of the air, and furrowed her brow. "Well, your kill, your spoils. Don't spend it all in one place, Miss Amada Rubi. Man, I can't believe people still use jump drives in this day and age." According to her history class, privacy had used to be a thing. Then the internet happened. Still, she was marginally piqued at how casual he was about spouting her identity.

"How altruistic of you." Amada kept a steady eye on him as he headed over to a nearby bar, where his buddy had trundled off to before.

"You might want to get a drink too man, you are as pale as a ghost." The gunman called out to somebody hiding behind a car. Who in their right mind would be stupid enough to hang around who was not some bounty hunter or corporate security?

Tucking the unexpected reward into an interior pocket, she strolled slowly over and cocked an eyebrow at the kid. She had the answer the moment her eyes fell on his pad. "You know, using freedom of the press as an excuse to sensationalize this shit is pretty low. You about done, or am I gonna have to find someone to escort you out of the area?" Amada gestured around with her pistol. Never aiming it at him, but showing it off to let him get her meaning. If there was one thing she had learned from the bureaucratic dropouts responsible for the company's image, it was that subtlety and suggestion were preferable when dealing with someone not pointing a firearm at you. Mostly because it permitted deniability. No, officer, I was only asking if he wanted protection while leaving a potentially dangerous district.

Glancing around reflexively, she noticed a busted sign. Earlier it had been casting an ugly neon light over the immediate surroundings, but it looked like a bullet had punched through it. Gaze drifting, she spied what looked almost like a figure standing cloaked in darkness. Blinking rapidly, she readjusted her position, and turned her attention back to the reporter.

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Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi
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As the woman's gaze passed over him, Stalker tensed up instinctively, his hand twitching towards the holster he kept within his jacket. He scanned her facial expression; she was obviously suspicious, but without anything to reinforce it, she had obviously decided to leave him alone. All good.

The issue was escaping without notice; Miss Rubi, as Stalker had learned her name was, had no lack of good eyesight. One small untoward motion at this range and not even a repolarization of her weapon's firing rails would stop the bullet. Kevlar was only so effective as a lifesaver.

But then, was escape even necessary? If he was fast enough on the draw, he would easily be able to disable her long before anyone else could get him within his sights.

But first, a distraction.

Stalker's suit, so blessedly equipped with the ability to modify magnetic fields, had come in useful so often; from repolarizing the firing rails of railguns, changing their bullet's trajectory completely, to the movement of small and simple metallic objects, it had saved his life more often than not; and now, the tiny shake of a small object conveniently located within a garbage bin near Miss Rubi, would serve as the perfect distraction.

Hopefully.

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Character Portrait: Huey Gibbs Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi
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Brian looked over his initial notes as he dimly spectated the aftermath movement with his PET waves. To be honest, there was not much, just his hunches about gangster vs paramilitary and the basic rundown of the firefight. The most important notes he deemed were the ones on the oddball pair that had showed up. For sure they were his angle in this story he thought to himself as he mulled over the situation. And regaining his composure. That too. That was important.

That was also apparently obvious to the others around as he broke from his deep thought to an offhanded "You might want to get a drink too man, you are as pale as a ghost.". Brian inwardly cured as he noticed one of the three people he was trying to track go sauntering by him, and one of the others was missing. Great. Great job you are doing there Bry, way to step it up. He sighed as he watched the guy walk over and into some bar-type-thing or another. Seemed to be styled after the old west cowboy crap. Eh, good enough for him he pondered as he looked over and considered making his way over there.

That is, until he was rudely interrupted AGAIN by one of the three people he was trying to keep track of... AGAIN.

They say two out of three ain't bad? Well he just hit three for three in not being able to keep track of them. Way to go champ.

"You know, using freedom of the press as an excuse to sensationalize this shit is pretty low. You about done, or am I gonna have to find someone to escort you out of the area?" Ms. Scary herself grumbled at him as he stood up free of the car, and finally put away his pad that she was eyeing. Last thing he needed was her to try to confiscate that. His entire notes from his meeting earlier were on there too right now. Of course, the thing was armed to the teeth with internal security (can never be too careful) but depending on her resources... he'd rather not risk it. Whelp, looked like it was time to take his leave.

"Ah, sorry about that." He smiled sheepishly at her "Sensationalize may be the wrong way to put it from where I am standing though. Someone is gonna talk, I may as well make a living out of it and get the facts straight. Leave it to the big news guys to 'sensationalize'" He smirked out of the corner of his mouth at his unintended rhyme, though admittedly, that may be the wrong decision with how she was waving that gun around. It seemed she clearly didn't want him around any longer, and wise-cracks might not be the way to go. "But I hear ya." He continued, "My work here is done so I'll get outta here so you can do yours. I think I'll be fine finding my way out of here though. I'm just gonna head over there to get a drink first. Maybe it can stop my throat from tasting like shit. Have a good one." He said that last line as he started to back away and turn from her and let out another breath, hoping not to get shot in the back. He didn't have a really good read on her yet, but she didn't seem the type to just shoot a reporter like him being an innocent and all, but.... well he did say he hadn't gotten a good read on her yet.

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Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi
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Before her new "friend" could respond, something caught her ear. Her head whipped around, eyes narrowing warily. It had sounded metallic; hollow, even. A brief, dull echo. Nothing stood out in the least. It was just an empty, spottily lit street. Willing herself to relax a little, Amada focused again on the journalist.

"Ah, sorry about that." The kid said, obviously trying to act chastened. A good way to not get a bullet in you, that. Depending on who you were dealing with. As she stood, Amada was feeling somewhat humanitarian. The corners of her mouth quirked. "Sensationalize may be the wrong way to put it from where I am standing though. Someone is gonna talk, I may as well make a living out of it and get the facts straight. Leave it to the big news guys to 'sensationalize'" He smirked, maybe in an attempt at looking endearing. He was not about to win any awards with that route, however. "But I hear ya. My work here is done so I'll get outta here so you can do yours. I think I'll be fine finding my way out of here though. I'm just gonna head over there to get a drink first. Maybe it can stop my throat from tasting like shit. Have a good one." He started moving away cautiously, and she took slow steps to match his trajectory, but in the opposite direction. She was on the lookout for anything sudden, but it never came.

Nearly holstering her gun, Amada thought better of it and decided to keep the weapon at her side. The unexpected had the potential to do far more damage than a threat you already knew about. With the proper intel, you could raise your defenses, draw up contingencies and plan your defenses accordingly. The unknown - oldest of human fears, as it were - offered a game of chance and instinct. Right then, her gut was saying to keep the pistol firmly in her fist for as long as she was in the area.

After making sure the kid followed up on his word, she started on her way back toward the bulk of the security personnel. Some of them were performing sweeps, hunting for any tucked away pockets of their enemy. So far everything had been quiet in the wake, so the general assumption was they had all been cleared out.

"ETA on when we'll all be going home?" Amada queried, fishing for a cigarette case concealed in her coat. She hated staying on the job late. She preferred to keep a very strict divider between her work and personal life, and had long realized the necessity of balancing exposure to either. Too much work would make her angry, conversely enough down time was debilitating. Already the night had veered well into what were typically her hours. She really did not enjoy having her schedule tampered with, especially when there would not be any extra incentive to go along with nothing but a vapid smile.

"Nope," Parker immediately relayed.

"If I'd wanted the bush league bullshit, I would have specifically requested it. Mercer." Her request came out as a flat, but firm order.

"The first detail's set to arrive in a few minutes. A couple of birds, and one car. No telling how they're feeling. We might be off in ten minutes, or three hours." He was disgruntled, and it sounded like he was sinking deeper into his chair. Settling in for the long haul.

She made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat. "I swear to Christ, if I hear the words 'exorbitant' and 'force' in the same sentence tonight, I'm putting someone through a wall." Amada lit her cigarette, taking a deep drag immediately. Through a combination of psychological and physiological stimuli, it was already working. Her tightened nerves began to slacken, her head started to clear. She was walking along the sidewalk, eyeing the buildings, battered pavement, and ruined bodies scattered haphazardly. Her shoulders were loosened, gait fluid, eyes drifting aimlessly. Any sense of urgency had sufficiently faded, and nothing about her surroundings was of any real interest. "Let's just get this over with, already," she sighed.

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Character Portrait: Stalker Character Portrait: Brian Major Character Portrait: Amada Rubi
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It was obvious the corporates wouldn't clear away for quite a while.

Stalker stood, concrete-still, and observed his surroundings. Miss Rubi had let her guard down, but not sufficiently to subside in her manner of posing a serious threat. She would have to be the first one dealt with.

Secondly, the corporates. Many of them, as noted before, were fresh and survived only because of their fancy gear and the skill of their leadership, but said fancy gear were major cause for concern. Thus, they were threats as well. Stalker had heard chatter about reinforcements, but that was the crowning issue: if more men came, then Stalker's chances of escape would be made miniscule. Unacceptably so.

Thus, the only concievable plan was the one which involved a loud and potentially bloody escape. Something Stalker specialized in.

Stalker waited for one of the corporates to walk within a few metres of his position until acting, reaching out and seizing the poor man by the neck, broken by a swift twist. Holding him up as a shield, Stalker unholstered his handgun and began firing somewhat wildly; he had little control over the weapon when employing it with one hand while using the other to carry a dead man with heavy armour.

Slowly, he began backing himself into the alley even as the shots came flying.