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Snippet #2472508

located in Night City, a part of Cyberpunk 2038, one of the many universes on RPG.

Night City

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mark "The Sphinx" Parnasse Character Portrait: Imogen Trondeau
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A faint light shined through the dirty windows of the tiny cabin. A dusty table, filled with dusty tools and an old map occupied most of the room, which also contained a fireplace far too large for the size of the cabin, and a couple of wooden chairs that seemed older than the house itself, if that was possible. Atop the fireplace, a strange animal was engraved in the wood. It was like a lion, but it had wings somehow, and a human face. Its expression was immovable, which made the animal even more fearful. It was pitch black outside, but from time to time, something would flash out there, followed by a sound that resembled the ringing of a small bell and pouring the faint light in the room.

Mark knew what would happen next. He would reach for the door and step outside, in the cold air of the evening, and find himself standing on the porch of an old cabin, which was the only building nearby. He would look around and see a lake, surrounded by endless fields of grass and, in the other side of the lake, someone taking a stroll. He would then look up, as he always did, and feel the terror sink in as he saw falling stars cross the night sky and hit the ground with the sound of a tiny bell, but with the destruction of a bomb. The stars would keep falling, and he would run to the other side of the lake, trying to warn Rose to run away, but the ground would be muddy and his movement, impossibly slow, and he would just watch as a star fell right next to his sister and her body was engulfed in flames.

Mark awoke with a gasp, sweating. He had had nightmares again. Most of these were about his sister, and went about in the exact same way. If he was a different man, he would think his subconscious was trying to tell him something. But The Sphinx was not that kind of man, so he simply swallowed, feeling his dried throat, and went to the kitchen to eat some breakfast. All of his bad nights ended like this.

But somehow, Mark couldn't forget this one. There was something different about the dream this time. It was something about Rose... Her walk was different. It didn't seem like Rose at all. And she was taller, too. But why would he dream about someone other than his sister?

This time, he felt like he needed to talk to someone about it. The thought came and went in a flash, and Mark tried hard not to think about it. But as he went through the day, visiting his many identities on the internet, he couldn't forget the stance Rose had in this particular dream. Why did it change? Was there a reason for it to change? He went unconsciously to his contact list, and cursed the program when it showed him the contact that was last on the screen: Imogen.

Something went through his mind that moment, and he felt an inexplicable urge to call her. The same crippling doubts came: What would he say? How would he start a conversation? But Rose's strange walk that night was something that wouldn't go away easily.

He ordered the machine to call her, voice only, as he felt that it would be too much for him if Imogen's face filled the screens on his apartment. Against all his principles, he waited, ring after ring...

The cell phone vibrated on the table. She held papers in her hand and didn't bother to look at the number, she just reached for it.

Imogen lifted the cell to her ear. "Bonjour."

She was looking over the notes, trying to make sense of what they were doing there in the lab. It seemed so extreme, the tests and the way they modified the drugs. From everything she could see it was exactly what they wanted but the rest, the side effects, the agression that presented in many of the cases was alarming. That they would even try and produce something like this, field test it the way they were made the scientist in her cringe. She was angry and baffled. That humans would give this to each other...then she reminded herself who was a part of this project and Imogen knew there was so little involved in the way of humanity.

"Hello?" said the hacker, insecure. "Imogen? Is that you? It's Mark, I... Well, I just thought we could talk... If that's ok with you. I mean, you're probably busy, and this was probably a stupid idea anyway, but if you had the time to talk we could, I don't know... Talk?"

Imogen smiled at her phone, "Mr..I mean Mark. How nice to hear from you." She tossed the papers onto the table and moved the remaining folder there as well. "Busy? Non. Not to busy to talk at all. I would not...I mean I do not mind talking to you."

She frowned a little. He was saying 'talk' a lot and she worried that perhaps she was missing something. "Oh is it about work? Should we talk on the phone? Here or in person?"

Imogen grew slightly flustered and unsure.

"No, no, we can talk through here. I just needed to get something off my chest... I've been thinking about..." Mark stopped. He was about to say 'you', but he knew it would be innapropriate, so he quickly thought of something else, something that also had been bothering him. "About our mission. That day, we... I... helped kill a lot of people there. Innocent people. Sure, Anthony is a psychopath… but I opened the door for him. I let him in that room, and I watched him kill all those scientists who were only going through another day of their lives… What did they do wrong to deserve being shot down like animals? It’s just not right…”

Mark stopped, reminding himself that this was not pleasant conversation.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I had never done anything like that before. Robbing bank accounts, invading networks, but… never something like this.

Imogen listened and her heart sank for him. She understood why he felt the way he did, so did she but they knew when they signed the contract that it was going to happen and George had asked them if they wanted out. "Mark, we forget sometimes when we sign those contracts that we may not pull the trigger but we are helping it to happen. I-I stood there. I know how you feel I.."

Her voice hitched in her throat as she stifled the threatening tears. "Excuse." The sound of her breathing slowly could be heard on his end. "I too have had it on my mind. I can't stop picturing them standing there. We knew they were to die, we knew but words on paper is different than seeing it."

Just like newpaper articles about muggings and murders that don't mean the same until you have lived it.

"Are you sure this is what you wish? To talk over the phone I mean...I do not mean to be, oh the word...presumptuous but we have been through quite a bit of shock. I am free if you wish to get dinner?"

Imogen shook her head though Mark couldn't see her. "I do not mean to invite myself with you..I just meant that if you wished for this to be more personal. No, no...not that it isn't nice to talk to you."

She sighed heavily. "I am sorry Mark. I am having difficulty expressing my thoughts. The events have left me muddled and reliving things I thought long buried. Please excuse my clumsiness."

He called to talk about something that is bothering him and you fumble through a response like a bull in a china shop. Where is your head?

Mark blinked. Did that really just happen? Did someone just invite him to dinner? His mind crossed a thousand different places at once, as it usually did, before coming to the conclusion that a quick clumsy reply would be the correct way to adress the situation.

"I... Well, of course-I mean, if you're free, I'm free too... I mean, not in that way, I..." He sighed, a little too heavily. "Sure, Imogen. I'd love to. Would you, ah, would you like me to pick you up? Or, for that matter, where would you like to go? I know this great chinese restaurant... Well at least I think it's chinese... I order there all the time. But I'm sure the place is good, too!"

Imogen gave a light laugh of relief. "I would be honoured to go out with you for Chinese and what a gentleman to offer to pick me up."

Relief swept through her as Mark did not seem offended by her clumsy and what she felt was insensitive responses. "What time should I be ready?"

"I'll be there at eight. See you there!"

Mark hang up, barely believing what had happened. He got his best outfit out of some dark places in his wardrobe, and after yet another shower, was delighted to see it still fitting. By eight, he was at Imogen's place, surprisingly clean and impossibly nervous, waiting for her to get down. His 'ride' wasn't one of Riordan's fancy cars, but it would get them there. After all, they were just going to have a talk... God knew Mark needed it.

Imogen was dressed and ready when her doorman rang up for her. She pulled her dress coat over her simple but stylish black dress. Her heels clicked on her wood floors as she crossed to the door.

Her hair was down, a rare thing for her though it was still done up in soft waves. They framed her slender face. I hope he approves. It was that thought that made Imogen pause. He was a colleague, she was presentable so why the nervousness? Why the worry? Monde dieu... She shook her head and walked out her front door to where Mark waited.

"You look quite dashing Mr Parnasse." Imogen walked towards him, a smile on her lips.

"You look great, Imogen" said Mark, not knowing how exactly a compliment was supposed to be replied to. "Shall we be off?" I shouldn't have said that thought the hacker, while opening the passenger door of his regular, unimpressive vehicle to her.

Imogen placed a hand on his arm, "Thank you Mark." She slipped into the waiting vehicle.

Once in the restaurant, where Mark's heart had stopped beating like a huge drum, he finally felt comfortable enough to discuss what had been bothering him. He felt that Imogen would be the only person to understand, being that she was a member of CKSD, and more over, someone who had been in the same place he had.

"Imogen, when you... When we carried George back to the RV. Did you think about what would happen if we died right there?"

She looked to the table a moment. "Non. I..."

Imogen looked up at Mark after a moment. "I have faced far worse and lived through it. I did not think for a moment about myself." She licked her lips lightly. "If I had died there no one would have noticed for a very long time, I mean the clean up crew obviously but I mean in my life."

She reached out to place her hand on his. "Years ago I was in a situation that made me face my own mortality and now..." Imogen squeezed lightly on Mark's hand. "I understand though I have been there."

Mark looked at her, finding warmth in her eyes, and in her hand. He felt safe. "I thought the same thing. That if a stray bullet were to get me, and all of a sudden, end me... No one would take notice. The world wouldn't take notice. No one knows who I am. Sure, everyone knows The Sphinx. But no one knows Mark Parnasse. And there, with George wounded, I felt... afraid. So terribly afraid of dying... and being forgotten."

Mark looked down, and pulled out his hand. He looked at Imogen again. "I had a family once. A sister. I... I often dream about her. Or rather, I have nightmares about her. I don't know where she is now, or what became of her... And I never thought I would care. But recently, and especially after that night... The nightmares have been getting worse. I've been thinking, what kind of brother I am, if I have every means of finding my sister... But refuse to do so?"

Imogen let her now free hand run through her hair. "If you wonder about her you are not refusing to find her, you just haven't set out on the path yet. Perhaps this is the nudge you need to follow up on your dream of her. It might take time but if you want to find her you will. Maybe you are more afraid of what will happen when you do."

Her eyes found Mark's face. She felt for him, she understood how he was dealing at the moment. "I am sorry to hear you are having nightmares. Your subconscious is telling you something. Whether it is find her or that you are afraid of the result. Maybe you need to have people in your life."

Maybe he did, thought Mark. Maybe that was what he had been afraid of for so long. It was painful to realize it, but it was true. And if he did need to let more people in his life... Why not start now?

"Imogen, would you... Would you like to help me find her? To be someone in my life?"

He was uncertain what that was supposed to mean, but it did mean something. It meant he was ready to change... However difficult that might be.

Imogen tilted her head, hair falling off her shoulder. She looked at him questioningly. She was not entirely sure what he meant about being someone in his life but she was surprised that he trusted her so much.

"Mark." She reached out to touch his hand but hestitated. "I am flattered that you think so much of me to tell me this. Of course I will help you."

She kept her hand poised there for a moment before slowly retracting it. "Whatever I can do to help." Imogen gave him a smile. "Family can be a very nice thing."

The rest of the evening was surprisngly pleasant, which was impressive, since Mark's standards of pleasant always included a computer. They talked about their work, and Mark went on about videogames and computers for far too long until he realized he was probably bothering Imogen, at which point the conversation turned to general topics until Mark's head began to feel light from the wine, and he offered to take her home.

At the front of her flat, Mark opened the door for her, because that was something people did in the movies, and made a ridiculously clumsy bow as she went inside, partly because of the alcohol and partly trying to make her laugh.

Imogen smiled and gave a light chuckle. "I had a lovely time Mark. " She stopped halfway inside the door. "Mark, would you like to accompany me to a gala?"

She had had a good time with him and the thought of taking anyone else to a gala with her friends made her very uncomfortable but Mark would at least be very good company.

"A gala?" thought the hacker for a second, out loud. "Is that where people go to meet each other in fancy dresses, drink fancy drinks and say fancy things to each other while doing nothing at all?" He pondered for a moment. "Sure, I'd love to!"

"Really? That is wonderful Mark! Thank you! I will email you the details." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You are a wonderful man."

"Ah... Thanks." He blushed so utterly and completely that there was nothing more he could say. "I'll see you then!"

He waved her good night as he returned to his car, as happy as a fifth-grader who had just been kissed on the cheek.