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[IC] Year 2372: The Cyborganics

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[IC] Year 2372: The Cyborganics

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Иanophяeak on Tue Mar 09, 2010 4:07 pm

((This is the IC thread for the RP Year 2372, a multiplatform robotic RP staged in a recovering post-apocalyptic world. OOC is reachable through the RP tab here. As GM, I do have a character, but am mostly in control of responding to character situations in which NPC's and world events are involved.))

First Bulletin:
UNAE begins three-way skirmish over shipping taxes in Death Valley warzone with NRF and EP.
World Population comes in at 2,423,230,853 reproducers.
Nations of the world announce Space Program to be undertaken for the first time since early 21st century.


China clinked against china as Megan set down a cup of green tea on it's saucer, the slight added weight causing the imbalanced coffee table to shift on it's legs. Lounging on a sofa with a book, she flipped through it's pages slowly as she read, lazy thoughts making her into her happy, fuzzy mind. I wonder when Myra will be home.

As the thought crossed her mind, her free hand unconsciously moved to her belly, which bulged slightly outward with a five-month pregnancy, riding up her sweater with it's size. Inside her, the baby she had made from a drop of Myra's blood and her own egg slept soundly in it's sac. A little girl, born of two women. Another lady in an all-female house. Lesbian pregnancies were uncommon, but not unheard of nowadays.

Hand still on her belly, Megan suddenly felt extremely, extremely tired. The summer sun was shining through the stained-glass windows of their third-floor suite, and the warmth it brought was like a cozy blanket, enveloping and lulling her to sleep.
Setting down her book, she shuffled lower on the couch, pulling down a throw pillow to rest her head on as she closed her eyes, no longer able to keep them open.

Being a Breedbot wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Sure, sure, you could fall in love with anyone and still make it work. And yeah, there was this wonderful sense of purpose, of rightness, that you got when you were expecting, and a burst of motherly joy at every kick of the life inside you. But hell if living for two didn't really take it out of a girl.
Last edited by Иanophяeak on Sat Apr 03, 2010 2:33 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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[IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby DragonSinged on Tue Mar 09, 2010 7:11 pm

It was a fairly busy evening in the Rusty Shuttle Pub. The sun hadn't even set, yet more than a few of the crowd were already sunk in their drinks. Orion grinned nervously as he carefully missed the bullseye on the dartboard. He laughed along with the other players at his apparent fumble. It was important to lose almost as many games as you won, if you didn't want to stand out.
He glanced furtively around the pub, but didn't notice anyone paying him undue attention.
It was entirely possible that no one was out to get Orion, but if so, he didn't buy it.
Orion was lucky, from his point of view. When he was young, Autumn had made certain that Orion didn't have any glitches or abnormalities that would make him stand out as anything other than a normal human. Orion had been raised on horror stories of the atrocities committed by Centurion Co. against escaped Bots, and as far as Orion knew, these stories were completely true. They probably weren't, but that was beside the point.
It didn't really matter whether anyone was actually after Orion. He knew they were, and he wasn't going to let them catch him.

"Hey! Nick, it's your go. Gaddamn starin' off into space, man, you gotta girl on your mind or somethin?"

Orion laughed, as he remembered that he was Nick here, "Heh, sorry mate.. Hah! Lookit that! Double-top! I might catch this one up, yet!"

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Saken on Fri Mar 12, 2010 5:06 pm

“I’d like a plate of eggs, scrambled, and sausage with pancakes and coffee.” The squeaky, annoying voice came from a stuck up woman sitting in a booth with ripped cushions. Heaven’s gaze was fixed on the yellow foam spilling out form a small tear in it as the small woman wiggled back and forth and prattled on to her ‘date’ a no good dealer. What he was dealing, though, Heaven couldn’t find out – not that she HAD too. No, Heaven was just always trying to find out things to feed to the people who she worked for.

“Excuse me. Can you hear me?” The words broke through Heaven’s concentration and she looked down at her customer, a sheepish almost smile on her face. “S-sorry..” She let out, her voice soft and mousy. Everything about her was mousy, from the brown-black hair that became a gigantic frizzball the moment she let it out from the lax ponytail that hid it, to her frumpy clothing and the small amount of pudge on her stomach.

Twisting around, Heaven walked back to the kitchen and pressed the yellow slip of paper down onto the counter, allowing for the cook to pick it up and get to work on the order. Meanwhile she meticulously filled up the almost empty brown coffee cup and bustled around, cleaning already clean tables. It was just another day pretending to be someone else. A day that was being wasted by her. Oh how she wished for a job, and soon.
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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Иanophяeak on Sat Mar 13, 2010 1:55 am

Second Bulletin:
World Population comes in at 2,423,231,528 reproducers.
Reports of spies in UNAE commercial/residential areas are confirmed. Civilians are urged to be on the lookout but ordered not to engage.



Two hours later, Megan's eyes fluttered open, and with a great big yawn and much-needed stretch, she reluctantly awoke. Rolling over, her face, which had been facing the back of the plush leather sofa, swung over to face the rest of the room. One of the first things she noticed was that Myra was back. It was actually rather hard to notice, seeing as she was sitting on the coffee table, beautifully illuminated on one side by a green-and-red shaft of light from a nearby window.

Smiling, Megan sat up, slow and careful, the stiff muscles in her back complaining slightly as she pushed herself up. As soon as the place where she'd been laying was clear, Myra dropped her rainbow beaded purse on the floor and sat in the empty space, Megan immediately laying back down with her head in her lap. Immediately, Myra's soft, dainty fingers were touching her forehead, her closed eyelids, stroking her hair and cheek, lingering on her pinkish, rounded belly. This was a habit the two of them had fallen into since the baby had started moving around sometime late last month, and both still squealed like schoolgirls at every kick.

The baby nudged at them from the inside of Megan's womb.
Both girls immediately began giggling, interspersed with some "Eeeeee!"'s and "Ohhhhh!"'s.
It nudged again.
Quieter giggling, only a couple squeals, and Myra lowered her head, pressing it to Megan's stomach, cradling it with her hands as Megan was.
Another kick, and they just smiled at each other, looking as happy as two people can be.

After a few more minutes of silence, awaiting another kick, Myra kissed Megan's belly, then shifted over and kissed her again on her forehead before sitting up. "So, what'd you do today?" she asked, still speaking a bit softly from the tenderness of the moment, before her voice quickly roughened. "Work was terrible, I'm only on lunch break. There were these asshole Strongbots down from the building zone uptown, came in, made a mess, got really freaking loud, and then left a shitty tip. God, I swear, they must program the things to be stupid or something, because I honestly think a smart fucking Strongbot would be a malfunction. Sorry, little rant there."

Megan waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, nothing. Just eating, pissing, and sleeping all day while little lady rearranges my insides."
Myra smiled. "A good day, then?"
"Definitely," Megan replied, smiling back.
Just then, a small, incessant beeping noise rang out from Myra's arm. She rolled it up to expose the small tattoo screen on the back of her wrist, which was incessantly flashing, "WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK," in alternating red and blue colors. Curling her fingers into her palm, the screen shut off, and she sighed. "Damn, have to go. I'll see you at five with dinner, kay?"

Nodding, Megan sat up, letting Myra stand up and kiss her once more on the forehead. As she picked up her purse, Megan swung her legs over, stood, and spoke up. "Actually, I feel like getting out a bit. I'll come with you and just sit at the bar and read or something. I'm tired of being cooped up in this house all day."
Myra thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, come on."

Getting down the street to the Rusty Shuttle Pub where Myra worked wasn't overly difficult for Megan, though the weight of her full womb did take a bit of the spring from her step as she slowly made her way down the street, cradling her belly as she enjoyed the early afternoon air. When they arrived at the bar, Megan suddenly realized how long it'd been since she'd been in public. She felt slightly self-conscious as she shuffled past a group of laughing dart-players, trailing as closely behind Myra as she possibly could.

When they reached the bar, Megan carefully pulled herself onto one of the tall barstools, which came up to about her belly button, feeling slightly ridiculous as she did so. Immediately taking out her book, she attempted to cover some of her embarrassment in the flipping of pages, while Myra had a quick word with her shift boss. Off to Megan's right, a mousy-haired waitress clipped a food order to the cook's list before starting to polish tables, and the dart-players to her right joked and laughed boisterously at their every miss. Sighing, Megan tugged her sweatshirt over her belly and buried her nose deeper in her book, feeling terribly out of place.
Last edited by Иanophяeak on Sun Mar 14, 2010 7:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Dreamalot106 on Sat Mar 13, 2010 5:03 pm

I zip up the front of my jacket and drop my sunglasses in front of my eyes and look around. 'The Rusty Shuttle Pub?... Odd name for a place like this... Oh well, a lot of these places have odd names,' I think to myself before walking into the bar. I notice a group of people, mostly guys it seems, back by the dart boards. I take in the old furniture, the few people sitting at booths, someone at the bar and a waitress who seems to be cleaning already clean tables all in one sweeping glance. I walk over to the bar, glancing a little more at the patrons, the micro-cameras in my sunglasses capturing each face.

One face in particular catches my attention as I sit down. It's one of the guys playing darts. I scroll through pictures the Superiors had sent me, hundreds of pictures of how some of the runaways might look now. There. That one. It looks like the Superiors were right, not that I ever doubted them, but apparently there really is some kind of Underground operation going on helping bots run away. Why they'd want to runaway though I have no idea.

I order a martini and sip it slowly, watching the dart game from the corner of my eye. I get several partial pictures of the one guy -Orion. There's an eighty-four percent match. Good enough for me. Time to go talk to him. I put the half-full drink down and slip off the bar stool, walking over to the group of guys, swinging my hips slightly as I walk. I push my sunglasses back on top of my head and smile. This is the part I always hate, flirting with the enemy.

"Hey guys," I say as I walk through them towards the board currently in use. I stop next to the Target. "You're not very good at this you know," I say jokingly to him. "May I try?" I hold out my hand for some darts, readying myself for a lasting and hopefully an at least somewhat succesful night.
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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Saken on Sun Mar 21, 2010 2:03 am

Heaven couldn’t help but to look up, and to wince slightly, as a very pregnant woman waddled into the bar/dinner/whatever it was, and sat herself down at a bar stool. The mousy young woman hurried over, her pad in hand and a sweet smile upon her face as she stared at the soon to be mother. Of course the waitress recognized her, the girl had seen millions upon millions of robot’s records, and this female was obviously a breeder.

“What can I get for you, suga?”

Questioned Heaven, in her server mode. Her muddy brown eyes seemed almost filled with joy, and she seemed as happy as she could be – that was just the way the female got around those who were pregnant, robot or not. It had something to do with the fact that they carried life within them.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Иanophяeak on Sun Mar 21, 2010 11:14 am

Megan looked up from her book at the mousy woman, slightly surprised that someone had approached her. Shifting slightly on the small seat of the barstool, which she was beginning to regret sitting on, she thought for a moment before replying. "Um, some apple juice and toast please. And could you put the butter on the side for the toast? I don't know if I'll want it. Thanks."

As the nurse took her order, her eyes darted around the room, trying to find Myra, finally spotting her over by the dart players, delivering their food. A couple of them were eyeing her with interest as she leaned over to place a tray on a table,and Megan felt a brief flare of protective anger. Squashing the urge to go over there and bludgeon the men with her book to teach them whom was whose, she quickly resumed reading.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby DragonSinged on Mon Mar 22, 2010 4:19 pm

Orion smiles briefly at the woman wanting to join the game, "No problem miss," he says to the rather.. exotically dressed female, "I was just about to bow out, anyways. I think I've lost enough for one evening." So saying, he runs his credit chip past the winnings-tracker, passing off the credits he owes.
He taps the score tracker, signing 'Nick' out of the game, "Here you are then, you can take my place. Careful, though, this lot'll fleece you if you don't know what you're about." He's talking fast, as is his habit. "I think I'm going to get a drink, if they serve anything decent 'round here."
He glances around the pub while he's talking... if there's anyone else in here dressed in the same style as this woman, he can't see them.
What he does see was some little... (well, maybe not so little, considering her, ah, condition..) girl in an ill-fitting sweater sending murderous glares in his general direction, various regulars sunk in their cups of forgetfulness, and a few serving girls flitting about. No waitors, that he can see, but that's no surprise. They never can keep up in tips.
Speaking of tips, here was a pleasant distraction-in-a-dress, delivering diverse deep-fried delicacies to the waiting dart players.
He lifts his hand to get her attention, and will move to speak with her if he isn't interrupted.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Dreamalot106 on Wed Mar 24, 2010 1:27 pm

I laugh some at his response and take the darts with a smile. "Thanks," I say, turning towards the board. I shrug and put a slightly bashful look on my face and look at the others around me, allowing enough time for my glasses to continue snapping pictures. "I don't think I'll be very good at this," I tell the guys around me. "This is my first time playing."

"That's okay! Just none of us will bet on you!" One of the guys calls out, causing a ripple of laughter through the group. I laugh as well and pick up one of the darts. I look at the baord and carefully aim the dart. I through it and - Ping! - it hits dead center. "BULLSEYE!" A couple people shout out, a few cheers sounding out. I force a blush to my face, girmacing inside. 'I hate having to act like one of their common girls...' I think sourly, keeping the happy, excited expression on my face. I shrug again. "Beginner's luck?" This causes another ripple of laughter among the guys. I pick up another dart and aim. I throw it at the board, it whizzes quietly through the air and -Ping! Not a bullsyes, but close. The group cheers.

"I change my mind! I'm betting on you!" the guy from earlier calls out. The sound of several bing fills the air as I aim once more for the board. The dart flies through the air and hits the board, closer to the bullseye this time. More cheers fill the air as well as more bings from the electronic score trackers.

After several more games I finally beg out, my face slightly flushed from what may seem like embarrassment to the others, but really pride, for I had accomplished acting like on of their own kind - the commoners. I run my own credit chip and collect my multitude of winnings, adding more credits to my already expansive amount of credit under my new name. [i]Abbey McRay has been signed out
flashes across the screen. I smirk inwardly at the name. I mean come on. What kind of name is Abbey? Obviously one of the older names, but apparently these kind of people like using the older names. They don't trust New Age names. 'Like Ada,' I think pridefully, loving the sound of my name, both in my head and out loud. 'Noble... Like me...'

I smile both inwardly and out at the thought as I reclaim my barstool from earlier. I continue sipping my drink and glance over at the Target - Orion. I smile some and turn on the barstool, attempting to catch the guy's eye.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby DragonSinged on Thu Mar 25, 2010 1:09 am

Orion's eye is caught by the waitress. He approaches Myra, "Excuse me miss? I was wondering if I might accompany you over to the bar where you could get me a sasparilla, and perhaps answer a few questions I've got about the city? I'm new in town.."

Orion always liked to order a sasparilla. It made him feel like he was in one of the few surviving pre-war vids, the old westerns, like they had on the infonet. Of course, Orion had never actually tasted a sasparilla before, as no one ever seemed to actually stock it. But still, he liked to order it, if only to keep up appearances.

"Busy night tonight," he says, "Get all sorts 'round here, don't you?"

He glances nervously back at the strangely dressed woman. She seemed to be paying him a lot of attention.
Orion didn't have any delusions about his looks. He wasn't ugly. In fact, in photos (ones where he's standing up straight) he might even be called handsome.. but in person it was all the little things - the way he held himself, the way he walked, his nervous way of talking and looking around all the time.. It could make him hard to like.
In the background he hears a voice on the chatternet, some newscaster bulletin about spies in UNAE commercial/residential areas, warning civilians to be on the lookout.
"So.. work here long?"

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Иanophяeak on Thu Mar 25, 2010 8:43 pm

Third Bulletin:
World Population comes in at 2,423,526,395 reproducers.
Reports of spies narrowed down to Toronto and her suburbs, towns in the New York region, and nearby areas.


Megan's ears picked out the thread of Myra's voice easily from the chatter of the dart-players. "Of course, sir, I'd be glad to answer any questions. Though I don't think we have sarsaparilla. Here, follow me." Megan stifled a giggle at the formal tone in her voice. It was so official and professional and not-Myra. She snuck a glance as Myra led the patron over to the bar, noticing it was one of the ones who'd actually been playing darts, and not just screwing about. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him carefully as he continued to ask questions while Myra looked for a salsa umbrella, or whatever the man had ordered.

"Busy night tonight. Get all sorts 'round here, don't you?"

Bottles clinked as Myra searched. "Yes sir, all kinds. Blowing in from all over the Empire. You must be new to Toronto, we're used to strange people here. Everyone's got some business to take care of, it seems."

Megan noticed the man glancing around, a bit nervous. He kept looking at one spot in particular, and she wondered what. She couldn't turn her head to check without making it obvious she was watching him. Readjusting on her barstool, she jumped slightly as the baby kicked. Looking up, she caught Myra's eye just as the man asked another question.

"So, work here long?"

Myra winked at Megan. "Only for a few months. I have some money stored away that I use to live off of, but some new expenses came up, and I needed the cash." Turning to him, she threw up her arms in exasperation. "I can't find a sarsaparilla, sir. Would you just like a soda or beer or something instead?"

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby DragonLady on Fri Mar 26, 2010 12:34 am

Poppy edges her way into the pub with her elbow, fiddling with her PDA in one hand, her 'thumb' drive inserted in the bottom. Her other hand toys absently with the tyings of her untidy, flame red bun, attempting to let down her hair.
With a couple of deft flicks and a sigh, she unhooks from and pockets the device in the recesses of her long, fitted white trench coat, freeing her hand enough to help with the releasing of her mane from its barely held bonds. With a deep breath and a little shake of her head, she seems to unwind visibly, a smile warming onto her face as she surveys the room.
Looks like a busy night. That's good.
Spotting a likely looking empty table near a side wall, Poppy begins the winding journey through the chairs and bodies over to a place of solitude after a long days work.
Gin, tonic, and the daily crossword.
From another pocket she retrieves a battered and well loved looking little device, something that in a by-gone era might have been called 'Game-boy'-like, and turns on the black and white screen, side stepping to avoid a patron going past her.
Now... what's a nine letter word for "A grouping of animals"?

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Saken on Sat Mar 27, 2010 6:02 pm

Jotting down the order, Heaven beamed at the mother once more, rushing into the back to make sure that it was filled quickly. Calling out what was on the small yellow slip, “ Toast, with a side of butter, make it wheat and white.” Hurrying to fill up a glass with cold apple juice she put it before the woman, tucking a strand of lank brown hair behind the delicate curve of her ear. “It’ll be right up, Ma’am.”

Peering ‘round, Heaven noted the twitching man and the woman who watched them, blinking twice. Putting it away into her mental cabnet, the woman noted her co-worker helping the twitching male and walked over to the woman staring at him, her pudgy body blocking the woman’s sunglasses covered eyes from view of the man in question. A large smile tugged at the woman’s cheeks, deepening the corners of her mouth into dimples as she let out a soft, brisk question. “What may I get you?” Dark brows creeped up her forehead as she placed a hand lightly on her uniform covered hip, waiting for the answer.

It may not have been her business to get in the way, but the woman could not help but to do it. This bar/dinner should have been free reign for anyone, and she wanted to keep it that way. It was her home away form home, work away from work, and she did not want the two to collide.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Dreamalot106 on Sun Mar 28, 2010 6:30 pm

I smile at the lady and pick up my now empty martini glass. "I'd love another of these please." The waitress takes the glass as I turn on the barstool and lean against the abr, watching her. She gives me a new one after a minute or two. "Thanks," I say sipping at it. I smile kind of sheepishly. "I've got a couple questions if you don't mind... One, is there a clothing store around here somewhere? I'm new to the area - obviously - and I kind of stick out." I lean in close to her and glance about, making sure no one is around to hear us. I look up at the waitress earnestly. "I ran away from where I used to live... And now well..." I frown sadly. "I don't know what kind of bot I'm really supposed to be right now... I think I'm supposed to be a sneak bot or something like that... But I don't feel like one..." My eyes look up at her pleadingly, as if asking for some kind of help. "I feel like a Life Bot instead and I'm so confused... So I ran away and came here 'cause I heard that there are others here like me, but even if there are they wouldn't trust me because I look so odd."I gesture to my clothes I'm wearing.

"So not only am I an outcast here, I have no place to stay, no normal looking clothes, I have nothing but the money I brought with me..." I smile kind of bashfully again looking down. "And I was also wondering if you knew who he is." I nod my head subtly towards Orion. "He's pretty cute," I say, still talking quietly, blushing some. "But kind of... twitchy." I laugh a little, kind of nervously, then let out a shaky breath before taking a sip of my martini, as if trying to calm my nerves. I hold the glass kind of tightly in my hands and let a small, sad smile rest on my lips, as I look up at the woman. 'Damn I'm getting good at this,' I think to myself, almost believing my story myself.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby DragonSinged on Mon Mar 29, 2010 4:36 pm

Orion listens to Myra talk as she rummages behind the bar, "Yeah, well.. new to this pub, I suppose, but I've been kickin around Toronto for a while now. And yeah, seems like there's always new expenses to deal with, but I guess that's just a fact of life. Something unexpected?"

Orion jumps a little as Myra throws her hands up, "What? Oh, yes, certainly, uh.. scotch, I suppose."
He picks up something mentioned on the chatternet, "Spies in Toronto? That's weird.. I mean, I guess Toronto's a pretty big urban center... Alright, I guess it's not weird, but.. I don't know, it seems kinda strange to me, spies actually existing. Seems so.. eh, whatever. Nothin to do with me. Probably after Centurion secrets or something. Although it did say they were in the suburbs.. Yeah, that's weird."

He clasps his hands together oddly, index and middle finger of his left hand wrapped around the thumb of his right hand, four fingers of his right hand wrapped around the thumb of his left hand, and begins rubbing his thumbs together in an apparent nervous habit.

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DragonSinged
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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Иanophяeak on Tue Mar 30, 2010 2:25 pm

"Thank you," Megan murmured to the waitress. Taking a sip of the apple juice, she glanced around the bar, noting a few new interesting patrons. To her right, a Techbot took a seat, immediately taking out some gadget. Not very approachable. Two barstools next to her, the man Myra was serving babbled on as she poured him a scotch, giving it to him and walking away to take other orders with a slight nod. Directly next to her on the other side, a woman was having a bit of a chat with the other waitress on duty, the one who'd been serving Megan.

"...No place to stay, no normal looking clothes, I have nothing but the money I brought with me..."

Megan's mind flew involuntarily to the empty guest bedroom, which was going to become a nursery sometime soon. It really only had a bare bed right now, but they had spare sheets and blankets. Glancing over at the girl, Megan checked her out. She looked about Myra's size, maybe she could...
Sighing, Megan turned back to her book. Ha, as if they could lend her money, though. The barmaid probably had all they could offer, and more. Best just to let her handle it.

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Иanophяeak
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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Ryand-Smith on Thu Apr 01, 2010 8:23 pm

“Boring boring boring,” the man said, as he rode down, his bike currently on “Off Duty” mode. Now of course the bike would be a standard motorcycle, its motor humming as he headed to the bar. Investing seedy hangouts was part of his duties, and today was no different.
“Well,” he said, his badge underneath his jacket, “Time to enforce the law.”

After legally parking and locking his motorcycle, he entered the bar, looking for anything odd, drug deals, prostitution, the usual deals. Even in the future crime still somewhat existed, even with all the programming in the world. He carried his main revolver underneath his clothes to not cause a scene, as he sat down at a table in the corner, just looking around.

Was he out of place? Probability said 20% of the time he was, and this might have been one of the 20 out of a 100 times that he was. This was the problem of being an officer of the law..

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby DragonLady on Fri Apr 02, 2010 1:38 am

Poppy paused in the act of sitting, taking a better look at the rest of the Pub as she contemplated the next word. Both of the servers seemed to be busy with the current clientelle. Perhaps she should make her way over to one of them before she sat down. She didn't always come to the bar after work; some days were easier to take than others, and home was a cheaper alternative. The bar was, however, her most frequented of non-home after-work hang-outs. It seemed busier today than it usually was (speaking from her relatively limited experience), and she didn't want the wait staff to be put out.

Who should she approach, though? The darker haired server seemed fairly occupied with the distraught looking blonde haired woman, but perhaps the auburn haired waitress wouldn't mind as much being distracted from the nervous looking fellow occupying her time; from the way he kept looking around, Poppy thought that it might be because he was one of those who had difficulty getting up the nerve to ask out attractive women. Maybe she wouldn't mind being freed from a prospective courter while she was on the job.

Poppy pocketed her game, heading for the bar.

"Um, hi. Sorry to interrupt, but when you've got the time, could you send a gin and tonic over to my table? I'll just be over there." Poppy looked back towards her table... and saw it occupied! Some asian looking man with oddly coloured hair had sat down at her table while she was walking over! The bar really was filling up fast.

"Hmm.. okay, maybe I'll be right here then." Poppy flashes the uneasy looking man beside her a quick, slightly apologetic smile, that she hoped said something like 'Sorry to interrupt, hope you're well, but I'm not looking to be picked up tonight.' instead of 'Hi, I think you're cute, please talk to me and try and get into my pants.' like it sometimes did...

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Dreamalot106 on Fri Apr 02, 2010 5:14 pm

I glance around a bit and flash the Breedbot a small smile and slight motion of my hand as a hello. I notice someone sit down in a booth and study him out of the corner of my eyes. The very slight buldges in his jacket suggest a badge and gun hidden away from eyes that normally wouldn't be able to pick up on minicule details like that, but when you have eyes trained to take in every tiny detail around you, you notice things like this.

I groan in my mind. A cop is the last thing I need here, he alone could blow my cover and ruin the entire operation. I manage to catch his eye and look back at the server, the small sad look on my face still. I shift on the barstool and brush the side of my jacket with my hand. Innocent gesture enough... Unless of course you're a cop or spy with eyes for details. The gesture was innocent, but conveyed a message. As I had brushed the side of my jacket, I had placed the end of my middle finger on top of the end of my index finger then switched them during the gesture. Friendly Undercover the message conveyed. If the guy really was a cop, he'd know the gesture.

I straighten on the barstool and look at the server once more. "You wouldn't by any chance know of anyone I could stay with do you? I'm willing to pay rent if necessary. Or is there maybe a motel with vacancies or an apartment for lease somewhere around here?" I look at her beseechingly. "Even if I can't get any new clothes, some place to stay would be better than having neither...." I trail off fiddling with the martini glass in front of me.

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Re: [IC] Year 2372.

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Иanophяeak on Fri Apr 02, 2010 10:38 pm

Fourth Bulletin:
World Population comes in at 2,423,628,572 reproducers.
Military movement reported in Toronto and New York City, suspected to be counter-spy methods.


Megan smiles politely back at the homeless woman, trying to look a smidge sympathetic before looking back down at her book. Another patron entering the bar pulls her away before she can even find her place again, and as she looks him up and down, she hears Myra talking to someone.

"Alright, I'll have it to you in a moment ma'am."

The man in the red jacket moved past her, and she heard a scrape of chair legs as he took a seat. Faintly registering the voices of the homeless woman and someone else talking in the background, and looked back at her book.

Trying to tune out the noise and smell of the bar, she quickly found her place and resumed reading.

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