SR4 Cyberpunk Campaign seeks 4 females [system, NC, Exotic]

[ShadowOfHeaven]

Seattle 2072

The force of magic returned to the world in 2012. It was pretty fuckin' crazy, but civilization didn't fall to the ground and we're not scavenging for beans in the carcasses of old department stores. The world got along just fine for the most part. Yeah, yeah - you have to deal with the fact that you might get some ugly Ork cab driver every now and then, and that Troll that works at the gas station stares at your rack every time you go in for a BuzzSoda, but those Elven porn stars make up for it as far as I'm concerned.

Technology has come along way and the world is fuckin' better for it. You can experience the Matrix (what the old timers used to call the internet) - sight, taste, touch, and sound. Shit, sometimes it's hard to tell where people and machines begin, but we got all those flying cars and robots that do your chores for you, and all the crap people used to whine about. The only problem is that you can't walk down the street without being bombarded with Augmented Reality advertisements for shoes and lipstick and cosmetic alternations to make you look like a cat or something.

The politics changed a bit too. Ever since the Mega-Corporations got their hands on extraterritoriality, everyone's favorite big brand names have pretty much become nations onto themselves. Fuck, even the police force is privatized now, and trust me when I say that that didn't make life better for anyone, especially not you and me, baby. Things have gotten down right cut-throat, and if the rumors are true, there are big power plays going on behind the scenes to determine which of the AAA-Corps are going to be at the top of this season's profit rankings.

Those big Corporations, they can't just leave the fate of their bottom line up to fair play and market currents. They like to nudge things here and there, if you know what I mean. The problem is, at least for them, is that all that sabotage and murder has to take place under the rug, ya'know? If some kind of war broke out in the streets, that would just hurt business for everyone. So, they hire outside the company to do the dirty work that they can't get caught doing themselves. You, though... if you get caught doing it... well, they just never heard of ya'.

So, I guess that's where you come in. 
I've heard the word on the street about you.
I've heard that you get things done.

I have a job for you.

_______________________________________

Adult Campaign seeking 4 females to form a group of "Runners".
Steal, Sabotage, Seduce, Assassinate, Get Paid.

Story elements will include: Adventure, Violence, Romance, Rape, Torture, Criminal Activity, and Intrigue.

Searching for the following character archetypes...

• The Gun Girl. [Lithium]

She likes it rough.

She's a weapons specialist and driver who spent a few years in a corporate security academy, but washed out because of her problems with authority. There are no legit jobs that are going to take her, but the only thing she really knows how to do is hurt people. She's in it for the thrill of combat, but at the end of the day and the bottom of a bottle... who is she?

• The Hacker. [Moraline]

All of her gadgets are custom.

This chick has always been on the cutting edge. Everyone always knew there was something weird and special about her. She gets off on the tech and staying up late hours into the morning reading about the latest R&D projects, the kind of stuff that never comes out in a press release. She's on the highest level of the Matrix subculture. She's cute like kittens, but when does a girl have time for romance when there's ALWAYS something new happening?

• The Mage. [*OPEN*]

The spirits dig her.

She used to get picked on a lot, at least until the first time she sent a school yard bully flying with a power bolt. Those imaginary friends turned out to be real and she discovered she had extraordinary awakened powers that let her manipulate physical and astral world. She has talent, but there's still a lot she has to learn. So far, though, being able to send a pack of Go-Gangers screaming on the pavement with a snap of her finger has made walking the street at night a lot easier.

• The Face. [Brittlby]

Baby, if looks could kill - Oh, they do.

Everything man or woman that gets a glimpse of this girl can't wait to get her clothes off.  She knows it, and that's her weapon. She's always been able to get the better of people, usually just by talking to them. She's an expert at making friends and accumulating favors. Sometimes she does it on her back, sometimes she does it with the retractable razors implanted under her fingernails. The regular life is not enough for her. She wants to get all the way to the top, whether she has to sleep her way to or kill her way to it.

------------------------------------------------------------

APPLY WITH IN CHARACTER WRITING SAMPLE.
In-Medias Res, Off-The-Hip - Graded for Quality NOT Accuracy.

[AndyZ]

Do you allow male players playing female characters?

...wait, d20 system?

[Siereis]

*Eyes wide* Ok..definitely interested in this RP...I'll be making a character and hopefully have it posted by this afternoon.  Any particular types of details we should include in a character post?

Additionally, just a few quick questions about the content: Roughly how much will be social? combat based? sexual?  Additionally, even though you sorta describe it above, can you give us more details about the expected sexual content you have in mind?

[AKunoichi]

I might be intrested, I have a character idea that could be gun or hacker depending on how I tweak her.

[Moraline]

If your not full already, I'm interested in applying. I would be willing to play any of the archetypes.

Sent you a PM.

[ShadowOfHeaven]

*Eyes wide* Ok..definitely interested in this RP...I'll be making a character and hopefully have it posted by this afternoon.  Any particular types of details we should include in a character post?

Additionally, just a few quick questions about the content: Roughly how much will be social? combat based? sexual?  Additionally, even though you sorta describe it above, can you give us more details about the expected sexual content you have in mind?

I am aiming for an even distribution between social, violence, sex, and adventure.

Romance between main characters is up to their writer's discretion.
Romance between main characters and main NPCs is possible, but not foregone conclusion.
Romance between main characters and secondary NPCs is possible, but will likely result in catastrophe.

There is the opportunity for rape / light torture / sexual interrogation / etc at the hands of characters or NPCs.
Characters may at times decide to use sex as a method to gain advantage in a situation.
None of this is predetermined.

I enjoy an element of chance. Thus the dice system.

[ShadowOfHeaven]

If your not full already, I'm interested in applying. I would be willing to play any of the archetypes.

Sent you a PM.

replied :)

[Moraline]

My application: The Hacker...

"Danni get the line in place. Hurry the squibs are all over us. I keep getting this intrusion detection message over and over," he said impatiently.

"Alright, alright, don't pop a neuron frat boy. I'll have your little show back up and running in no time. All I have to do is phreak the cell tower and we're all rerouted. The corp can't track your little show," Danni said. "I've never let you down before you know. With all these cyber dolls I got rigged up for you here your way to spoiled. I think you should be giving me a bigger slice of the pie...  There it is. Your back online."

"Danni, I could just kiss you. You sweet little thing you," he said.

"Oh, so gross. Keep your sweaty lips off me or I'll kick you in the nuggets. Listen the next time the corp shuts down the firewall don't panic. It's just security maintenance and as far as they are concerned all our virtual cell lines are just redundant back ups for their own existing offices," Danni said.

She crossed her fishnet covered legs and rocked them as she twirled a long blond ponytail and waited for a program kernal to finish compiling. It was a little thing for decrypting a government corp security protocol that she started when she was repairing this guys virtual cell lines.

"I can't believe we've managed to a virtual cyber babe sex line for the last two years right under their noses. Danni your a rock-star," he said.

"You know it babe. Best part is that I've been using their own AI to create all the virtual cyber girls for our little escort sex line. Your clients just dial into the IP and they think they are in virtual heaven with real girls. They don't even know the difference. This corp's AI is so good, every girl in your system is unique and tailored to exactly what the client asks for. It even remembers all the last transaction and improves on it's interactions from the last encounter with each client.  I wonder if these guys will ever wake up and realize that their multi-billion dollar tax system is being used as a cyber sex machine," Danni asked as she started to laugh.

Danni grabbed her laptop and turned off the little holo screen then slid it into her black canvas backpack. It wasn't much of a backpack. The backpack was a slip of a thing designed to hold her laptop and a few data jacks. She tossed it over her shoulder and strapped it on.

"Kiss kiss, Mr Davis. Just send my cheque to the same place as always," Danni said.

"Alright, Miss Poulsen, your monthly dividend cheque will be on time. I couldn't do it without you sweetheart," he grinned as he eyed her backside.

Danni had hopped up and turned to walk away. Her short little red plaid skirt swishing over her hips as she bounced towards the door.

Outside the door is when the call came in. Danni had already turned on her nano-music player and was sorting through song tracks. "Hello, Dark Danni speaking your on a secure line, go ahead..."

The voice told her that he wanted her for a job. He needed a "runner," but didn't say what for.

"So, I guess that's where you come in.
I've heard the word on the street about you.
I've heard that you get things done.

I have a job for you." 

It sounded like fun and she had nothing else to do at the moment. Her dividend cheques from the Virtua Girl World Hotline paid the bills and let her buy all her little toys but she needed extra funds so she decided to see what it was.

"Yeah, sure I'll take it. Just download me your particulars. I already got your number location, should I meet you there or what," Danni asked.

She tapped a little nano-circuit on her wrist to download a copy of this guys number and location to her laptop - it backed up automatically to her data warehouse. The location of that was a closely guarded secret. She had her secure line set to trace back any calls received. It was a little program of her own that she had created. The program was so proficient she could trace back and break through dozens of communication security protocols in seconds.

[Brittlby]

The Face - "They call her Origami."

Trent Merritt considered himself to be quite the aficionado, though unlike his squash partner who claimed to be a connoisseur of fine wine, the vintage Merritt favored was more... visceral. He was an expert in call girls and la femme de la nuit, or at least he liked to fancy himself one. A whore by any other name.

He had not asked her name, largely because it was a little game of his to chose a name for his consorts. She had come highly reccommended, her pedigree claiming Serbian and British heritage. His driver let her into the back of the limo, and he admired her almost giddily, her skin a tanned gold hue stretched tautly across a body that was the toned yet fragile build of a dancer.

Bright white teeth peeked from between her vibrant yellow lips, the garish color suited to her cleverly stitched miniskirt. It walked the tight line between tasteful and harlot, hugging her slender hips with a demure cut that left little to the imagination. Her hair was pitch black, highlighted with a yellow isotope that sparkled and pulsed in the dimly lit cab of the limo.

"Good evening, Mr. Merritt. My name is..."

"I think you're name is... Crystal for tonight. I think that suits you."

"... how ever did you guess?" She replied, not missing a beat as she slid into the back of the limo, "My name is Crystal." The rasp of fabric against the leather seats was somehow strangely tantalizing and Trent licked his lips as he shot a curious glance over at his bodyguard. A street samurai with a twenty thousand nuyen makeover, he had taken to calling the large blond woman, "Peach", although he seemed to remember Connie was the name on her application.

She had been in his employment for five months, and while he wasn't really interested in her thoughts or interests, he had forced her to participate sexually a number of times before. Peach was her unflappable self, holding a fairly good poker face, but Trent was a skilled enough judge of character to see she was also appreciating this little thing the agency had loaned them. She was evidently eager to be asked to join this time.

The event they were head to was a management meeting that had been coyly hidden in the midst of a semi-casual dinner. Usually, he was a fan of these round table meetings, but he had difficulty concentrating with the warm tickle of his companions fingers across his thigh. He shivered as the minutes dragged on like hours, relieved at last when dessert came.

He was forced to make a call to one of their investors as they made their way to the limo, and as the woman on the other line prattled on, he watched Crystal serve herself a drink from the minibar. The icecubes rattled merrily as she took a long sip of scotch and beckoned Peach. His bodyguard hesitated, eyeing him curiously for permission before she leaned into the slender young whore. Crystal's yellow lips parted as she kissed Peach deeply, prying open her teeth with a talented tongue.

The scotch passed between their lips, Crystal's fingers tightly wound around the larger woman's blond hair as her free hand strayed down the bodyguard's collarbone. Trent couldn't be off the phone fast enough now, snapping his fingers at the two. Crystal broke off the kiss, leaving Peach breathless as she stared at her employer. He continued to debate percentages on the phone while pointing down at his crotch.

Crystal took the hint, and crawled across the Italian leather with a slow deliberation that had Trent aching in his trousers. She straddled him, her thighs much stronger than he had imagined given her build. Fingers traced across his chest, her long black hair whipping about as she shook her head playfully. He was about to close the deal with his investor abruptly when he found he was having trouble breathing.

Crystal's knuckles were white, her little fists clenched around the length of her hair as she tightened it like a noose. He dropped his phone from numb fingers, eyes bloodshot already as he choked feebly. His tearful gaze shot over to his bodyguard, but his heart sank as he watched Peach slump over, blood dribbling down the side of her lips as she collapsed onto the carpet.

Frantic now, he slapped his hand on the buzzer for his driver more by accident than design, as he was actually just reaching for his letter opener. It was rare he received a paper letter anymore, but the opener had been in his family for three generations. The pain around his neck suddenly became sharp and he squealed as the ebony noose around his neck began to move. Crystal's hair was suddenly abrasive like sand paper, and it ground against his soft skin, cutting into his flesh like a chainsaw. As he began to choke on his own blood, the cabin was filled with a loud report as his driver tried to fire his pistol awkwardly from the front seat while driving.

Crystal turned to face him, her mouth parting impossibly wide as she hissed like a cat. A fine spray of fluid shot out of her throat, immediately etching itself into his skin with a chemical hiss. The driver clutched his face as the acid ate away at him. Trent tried to cut at his assassin's razor sharp hair, but the letter opener became tangled and simply snapped in half.

With its driver injured severely, the vehicle swerved erratically and the nimble whore stood up over Merritt as his blood spread across his seat, shorting out his phone. Crystal pulled herself up through the sunroof, eyeing the traffic warily as she took a moment to find a soft spot to land. She leapt from the roof of the limo,  landing in a pile of refuse. She was relieved to find there was no broken glass there to break her fall amongst the garbage bags.

The vehicle she had escaped careen across the street, dead ending two blocks away by crashing into a wall going forty. Rushing across the asphalt as quickly as her heels would allow, she could see the steady rise and fall of the driver's breath. Slumped across the wheel and unconscious as the acid continued its work, that was still a chance he would live.

Thankfully... she had had the foresight to not quit smoking. She lit a petite cigarillo, the purple smoke clashing with the smell of gasoline as she stared at the flickering blue flame of her lighter.

+++

"... on his way home from a financial meeting. Police suspect the accident to be alcohol related, but are currently awaiting the toxicology report from the coroner."

She turned off the television, in favor of admiring herself in the mirror. Crystal knew better. They would be looking for her. Thankfully, the lovely face she had chosen was no more her face than Crystal was her name. She pulled at her cheek, waggling her jaw as the pseudo skin sagged like rubber as she disconnected from her port. It came off in her hand easily, after all, it was designed to. She let it fall into the toilet with a soft plop, before she went to work choosing another. Back when she had worked for Nutech, they had run a study, utilizing statistical feedback and viewer polygraph tests to determine the most "Beautiful" face for their spokeswoman. They could statistically create the perfect face, but when the viewer polygraphs came into play, the results became less well defined.

Beauty was after all in the eye of the beholder, and given this subjectiveness, not one, but seventy-eight different faces were created, spanning various demographics. She reached for template 16, an Asian flavored mask, it was the one she most commonly used for her day to day routines. Fitting it into place, she winced at the brief but sharp pain of her nerves connecting.

Her actual nationality was native American, but then, she had taken great pains to distance herself from her past. She ran through her protocols, making faces in the mirror to assure the mask was connected properly. In the other room her phone vibrated impotently, the caller on the other end forced to leave a message.

"I have a job for you..."

[orderNchaos]

I'd definitely like to get involved in this.  I have a pretty good idea for the Gun girl.  Hope you still have a place open.

[AKunoichi]

I was also looking at gun girl but the GM has not responded to my PM yet.

[vin26m]

The Gun Girl - CJ

I took a deep breath and sighed. 

Poor me.  Poor CJ. 

I was tired.  CJ hasn't slept for more than a couple of hours at a time in weeks!

And CJ was hungry because I only had two soyburgers with all the fixin's when we stopped for food earlier!

And, worst of all, CJ was horny!  Like, really, really, really, really, REALLY horny, mostly because I haven't been in a good firefight in forever!

Being a DocWagon TRP seemed like it was going to be so much fun.  A TRP is called a terp and it stands for... Um... Uh...  Temporal?  Timely?  Temporary?  Temporary, that's it!  Temporary Response Personnel.  They're the ones who protect the real paramedics while they save people!  And that's what I was!  CJ the terp!  Tee-hee.  That's a funny word.  Terp.

I was the only elf though.  That made CJ sad.  At least there were no icky dwarves or trolls or orcs.  Only boring humans.  *sigh*

Our High Threat Response team was on our way back from a call at a warehouse that had a bunch of cockatrii on the loose.  They're like chickens but they make you sleep if you touch them and they tear you into itsy-bitsy ribbons with their beaks and talons!  Pik-pik-pik!  They were... Chickens of Doom!  But trained as security paracritters.

And there were, like 50, of them!  And there were, like, two clients and six other people!  Good thing those evil chickens were all sedated, though.  All we had to do was be very, very quiet and we managed to save all the people! 

But by the end the cockitrii got mad, so CJ had to use her Narcoject rifle and Williams capture net gun and Defiance stun baton and Ares Alpha underbarrel grenade launcher loaded with sleep rounds to save the day! 

But no gun battle.  No explosions.  Not even a swordfight!  CJ was very sad.

It was on the way back that the rigger of our Ares CityMaster received another call.

"Gunfire's heavy.  Powering cannon.  Deviants engaged with Knight Errant Security Services."

Ooh, a firefight!  Yay!  Orgasms for CJ!  Yippee!

I couldn't wait to get off!  It's been sooo long since I've had a really good one, the kind that I feel starting between my legs and going all the way all over me!  You know, the kind that makes CJ's toes curl up and my fingers dig in and my eyes cross and my tongue loll about and my hair stand on end!  Nothing gets CJ off like a good old gunfight!  I call them funfights!

That's how I got my name.  CJ stands for "Combat Jill."  It's like combat jack, but for girls.  When the bullets start whizzing by and the detonations make loud booms, I don't know what it is, but I just really have a nice spend!

"Where are the clients?"

"With the deviants."

Deviants are what DocWagon people call shadowrunners.  I've been called that a lot, but not because I was running the shadows!  Tee-hee!

"Destination reached.  Rear hatch unlocked.  Watch yourselves."

I jumped out of the big, armored riot control vehicle and escorted the paramedics to the client.  She was a cutie pie elf decker, but she was in sleepy land after some Black ICE played with her brain!  As soon as we arrived, the shooting stopped.  Knight Errant wasn't going to shoot at DocWagon because of some corporate thingie, and the runners weren't going to bother us while we helped their friend.

I had to follow rules to be a terp.  Set up a perimeter.  Protect the paramedics and clients.  Do not fire unless fired upon (drek!).  And use non-lethal ammo unless absolutely necessary (double doodie drek!).

The Knight Errant officers started yelling at us.  First it was boring stuff - Corporate Court this and lawsuit that.  But then they got mean and threatening!  They just wanted us to shoot first, which I totally wanted to do, but... couldn't.  Stupid Knight Errant.  I remembered why I left their academy, and by "left" I mean "got kicked out."

The paramedics stabilized the client and were carrying her away on the stretcher.  But her friends wanted a ride too.  I wagged my finger at them.  "Nuh-uh-uh.  No carjacking joyrides for you, you naughty deviants!  I can only take you with us if you make Mr. CityMaster spit lead at you!  K-thx-bai-bai!"

We got back into the ambulance and off we went with bright lights blaring and sirens going WAH-WAH-WAH.

CJ was sad.  No cummies for CJ. 

Again.

*pout*

[ShadowOfHeaven]

The Face - "They call her Origami."

Trent Merritt considered himself to be quite the aficionado, though unlike his squash partner who claimed to be a connoisseur of fine wine, the vintage Merritt favored was more... visceral. He was an expert in call girls and la femme de la nuit, or at least he liked to fancy himself one. A whore by any other name.

He had not asked her name, largely because it was a little game of his to chose a name for his consorts. She had come highly reccommended, her pedigree claiming Serbian and British heritage. His driver let her into the back of the limo, and he admired her almost giddily, her skin a tanned gold hue stretched tautly across a body that was the toned yet fragile build of a dancer.

Bright white teeth peeked from between her vibrant yellow lips, the garish color suited to her cleverly stitched miniskirt. It walked the tight line between tasteful and harlot, hugging her slender hips with a demure cut that left little to the imagination. Her hair was pitch black, highlighted with a yellow isotope that sparkled and pulsed in the dimly lit cab of the limo.

"Good evening, Mr. Merritt. My name is..."

"I think you're name is... Crystal for tonight. I think that suits you."

"... how ever did you guess?" She replied, not missing a beat as she slid into the back of the limo, "My name is Crystal." The rasp of fabric against the leather seats was somehow strangely tantalizing and Trent licked his lips as he shot a curious glance over at his bodyguard. A street samurai with a twenty thousand nuyen makeover, he had taken to calling the large blond woman, "Peach", although he seemed to remember Connie was the name on her application.

She had been in his employment for five months, and while he wasn't really interested in her thoughts or interests, he had forced her to participate sexually a number of times before. Peach was her unflappable self, holding a fairly good poker face, but Trent was a skilled enough judge of character to see she was also appreciating this little thing the agency had loaned them. She was evidently eager to be asked to join this time.

The event they were head to was a management meeting that had been coyly hidden in the midst of a semi-casual dinner. Usually, he was a fan of these round table meetings, but he had difficulty concentrating with the warm tickle of his companions fingers across his thigh. He shivered as the minutes dragged on like hours, relieved at last when dessert came.

He was forced to make a call to one of their investors as they made their way to the limo, and as the woman on the other line prattled on, he watched Crystal serve herself a drink from the minibar. The icecubes rattled merrily as she took a long sip of scotch and beckoned Peach. His bodyguard hesitated, eyeing him curiously for permission before she leaned into the slender young whore. Crystal's yellow lips parted as she kissed Peach deeply, prying open her teeth with a talented tongue.

The scotch passed between their lips, Crystal's fingers tightly wound around the larger woman's blond hair as her free hand strayed down the bodyguard's collarbone. Trent couldn't be off the phone fast enough now, snapping his fingers at the two. Crystal broke off the kiss, leaving Peach breathless as she stared at her employer. He continued to debate percentages on the phone while pointing down at his crotch.

Crystal took the hint, and crawled across the Italian leather with a slow deliberation that had Trent aching in his trousers. She straddled him, her thighs much stronger than he had imagined given her build. Fingers traced across his chest, her long black hair whipping about as she shook her head playfully. He was about to close the deal with his investor abruptly when he found he was having trouble breathing.

Crystal's knuckles were white, her little fists clenched around the length of her hair as she tightened it like a noose. He dropped his phone from numb fingers, eyes bloodshot already as he choked feebly. His tearful gaze shot over to his bodyguard, but his heart sank as he watched Peach slump over, blood dribbling down the side of her lips as she collapsed onto the carpet.

Frantic now, he slapped his hand on the buzzer for his driver more by accident than design, as he was actually just reaching for his letter opener. It was rare he received a paper letter anymore, but the opener had been in his family for three generations. The pain around his neck suddenly became sharp and he squealed as the ebony noose around his neck began to move. Crystal's hair was suddenly abrasive like sand paper, and it ground against his soft skin, cutting into his flesh like a chainsaw. As he began to choke on his own blood, the cabin was filled with a loud report as his driver tried to fire his pistol awkwardly from the front seat while driving.

Crystal turned to face him, her mouth parting impossibly wide as she hissed like a cat. A fine spray of fluid shot out of her throat, immediately etching itself into his skin with a chemical hiss. The driver clutched his face as the acid ate away at him. Trent tried to cut at his assassin's razor sharp hair, but the letter opener became tangled and simply snapped in half.

With its driver injured severely, the vehicle swerved erratically and the nimble whore stood up over Merritt as his blood spread across his seat, shorting out his phone. Crystal pulled herself up through the sunroof, eyeing the traffic warily as she took a moment to find a soft spot to land. She leapt from the roof of the limo,  landing in a pile of refuse. She was relieved to find there was no broken glass there to break her fall amongst the garbage bags.

The vehicle she had escaped careen across the street, dead ending two blocks away by crashing into a wall going forty. Rushing across the asphalt as quickly as her heels would allow, she could see the steady rise and fall of the driver's breath. Slumped across the wheel and unconscious as the acid continued its work, that was still a chance he would live.

Thankfully... she had had the foresight to not quit smoking. She lit a petite cigarillo, the purple smoke clashing with the smell of gasoline as she stared at the flickering blue flame of her lighter.

+++

"... on his way home from a financial meeting. Police suspect the accident to be alcohol related, but are currently awaiting the toxicology report from the coroner."

She turned off the television, in favor of admiring herself in the mirror. Crystal knew better. They would be looking for her. Thankfully, the lovely face she had chosen was no more her face than Crystal was her name. She pulled at her cheek, waggling her jaw as the pseudo skin sagged like rubber as she disconnected from her port. It came off in her hand easily, after all, it was designed to. She let it fall into the toilet with a soft plop, before she went to work choosing another. Back when she had worked for Nutech, they had run a study, utilizing statistical feedback and viewer polygraph tests to determine the most "Beautiful" face for their spokeswoman. They could statistically create the perfect face, but when the viewer polygraphs came into play, the results became less well defined.

Beauty was after all in the eye of the beholder, and given this subjectiveness, not one, but seventy-eight different faces were created, spanning various demographics. She reached for template 16, an Asian flavored mask, it was the one she most commonly used for her day to day routines. Fitting it into place, she winced at the brief but sharp pain of her nerves connecting.

Her actual nationality was native American, but then, she had taken great pains to distance herself from her past. She ran through her protocols, making faces in the mirror to assure the mask was connected properly. In the other room her phone vibrated impotently, the caller on the other end forced to leave a message.

"I have a job for you..."

sold

[ShadowOfHeaven]

My application: The Hacker...

"Danni get the line in place. Hurry the squibs are all over us. I keep getting this intrusion detection message over and over," he said impatiently.

"Alright, alright, don't pop a neuron frat boy. I'll have your little show back up and running in no time. All I have to do is phreak the cell tower and we're all rerouted. The corp can't track your little show," Danni said. "I've never let you down before you know. With all these cyber dolls I got rigged up for you here your way to spoiled. I think you should be giving me a bigger slice of the pie...  There it is. Your back online."

"Danni, I could just kiss you. You sweet little thing you," he said.

"Oh, so gross. Keep your sweaty lips off me or I'll kick you in the nuggets. Listen the next time the corp shuts down the firewall don't panic. It's just security maintenance and as far as they are concerned all our virtual cell lines are just redundant back ups for their own existing offices," Danni said.

She crossed her fishnet covered legs and rocked them as she twirled a long blond ponytail and waited for a program kernal to finish compiling. It was a little thing for decrypting a government corp security protocol that she started when she was repairing this guys virtual cell lines.

"I can't believe we've managed to a virtual cyber babe sex line for the last two years right under their noses. Danni your a rock-star," he said.

"You know it babe. Best part is that I've been using their own AI to create all the virtual cyber girls for our little escort sex line. Your clients just dial into the IP and they think they are in virtual heaven with real girls. They don't even know the difference. This corp's AI is so good, every girl in your system is unique and tailored to exactly what the client asks for. It even remembers all the last transaction and improves on it's interactions from the last encounter with each client.  I wonder if these guys will ever wake up and realize that their multi-billion dollar tax system is being used as a cyber sex machine," Danni asked as she started to laugh.

Danni grabbed her laptop and turned off the little holo screen then slid it into her black canvas backpack. It wasn't much of a backpack. The backpack was a slip of a thing designed to hold her laptop and a few data jacks. She tossed it over her shoulder and strapped it on.

"Kiss kiss, Mr Davis. Just send my cheque to the same place as always," Danni said.

"Alright, Miss Poulsen, your monthly dividend cheque will be on time. I couldn't do it without you sweetheart," he grinned as he eyed her backside.

Danni had hopped up and turned to walk away. Her short little red plaid skirt swishing over her hips as she bounced towards the door.

Outside the door is when the call came in. Danni had already turned on her nano-music player and was sorting through song tracks. "Hello, Dark Danni speaking your on a secure line, go ahead..."

The voice told her that he wanted her for a job. He needed a "runner," but didn't say what for.

"So, I guess that's where you come in.
I've heard the word on the street about you.
I've heard that you get things done.

I have a job for you." 

It sounded like fun and she had nothing else to do at the moment. Her dividend cheques from the Virtua Girl World Hotline paid the bills and let her buy all her little toys but she needed extra funds so she decided to see what it was.

"Yeah, sure I'll take it. Just download me your particulars. I already got your number location, should I meet you there or what," Danni asked.

She tapped a little nano-circuit on her wrist to download a copy of this guys number and location to her laptop - it backed up automatically to her data warehouse. The location of that was a closely guarded secret. She had her secure line set to trace back any calls received. It was a little program of her own that she had created. The program was so proficient she could trace back and break through dozens of communication security protocols in seconds.

sold

[Moraline]

So your still looking for 2 females to play the roles of...

• The Gun Girl.

She likes it rough.

She's a weapons specialist and driver who spent a few years in a corporate security academy, but washed out because of her problems with authority. There are no legit jobs that are going to take her, but the only thing she really knows how to do is hurt people. She's in it for the thrill of combat, but at the end of the day and the bottom of a bottle... who is she?

• The Mage.

The spirits dig her.

She used to get picked on a lot, at least until the first time she sent a school yard bully flying with a power bolt. Those imaginary friends turned out to be real and she discovered she had extraordinary awakened powers that let her manipulate physical and astral world. She has talent, but there's still a lot she has to learn. So far, though, being able to send a pack of Go-Gangers screaming on the pavement with a snap of her finger has made walking the street at night a lot easier.

[ShadowOfHeaven]

So your still looking for 2 females to play the roles of...

• The Gun Girl.

She likes it rough.

She's a weapons specialist and driver who spent a few years in a corporate security academy, but washed out because of her problems with authority. There are no legit jobs that are going to take her, but the only thing she really knows how to do is hurt people. She's in it for the thrill of combat, but at the end of the day and the bottom of a bottle... who is she?

• The Mage.

The spirits dig her.

She used to get picked on a lot, at least until the first time she sent a school yard bully flying with a power bolt. Those imaginary friends turned out to be real and she discovered she had extraordinary awakened powers that let her manipulate physical and astral world. She has talent, but there's still a lot she has to learn. So far, though, being able to send a pack of Go-Gangers screaming on the pavement with a snap of her finger has made walking the street at night a lot easier.

Correct.

[AKunoichi]

I was intrested in the gun girl but you still have not replied to my PM. I was asking if I had to use the mini backstory you had written, or if I could make my own?

[Moraline]

(There we go. Third time is the charm..)

Overlarge Image

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

            The Mage - - Working Girl

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

      Life is full of riddles. What's the sound of one hand clapping? Or, why is a raven like a writing desk? As a student of Wizcraft, I'm often struggling with the greatest mysteries of the human condition. For example:

      Riddle: What is two meters tall, comes in a six-pack and bleeds canary yellow blood.

      Answer: I don't know but it's throwing a bouncer at you. Duck.

      I slammed into the dance floor and snapped another lash of force at it, actually catching its leg at the knee, making a snappy noise and dropping it to my level. That left five to one.

      Well, two, but Basley hadn't gotten up from his barstool.

      Another bouncer flew to join the one I'd avoided, making a nice thud against a bare concrete wall, leaving some cracks. So much for the decor.

      College bars are the worst.

      My name is Raventree. You can call me Izumi. I'm a runner, or will be. I'd come to meet my advisor and all around apprentice-go-to-guy, Kendrick Basley and give him the bad news. Turns out, the people at the massage parlor where I was gainfully employed thought I'd been saving my wages to by vibrating breast implants to give clients a very special happy ending. I confessed I'd been using my chop to get a black market education in magic.

      They told me to buzz.

      I did.

      And figured I'd meet Basley for a drink, tell him the worst and wonder if he could pass my name around for a runner job or two.

      Black market magic apprenticeships and vibrating cyber-tits had something in common: My parents wouldn't pay for either of them. Playing mercenary was dangerous, but so was crossing the street and the nuyun would steady my nerve, I hoped.

      I could cut it. I was sure I could.

      Basley picked a dump with the karmic contents of a stopped up sewer drain called The Pedestal. Young wagers and college kids turned up here to get hit on, dance with and bought drinks by an older crowd of semi-male bipeds. I won't give you too much of the Astral side of it all but suffice it to say I would have preferred a nice thick beer goggle for my third eye instead of just shutting it and going on.

      It was dark. Misty. All the lighting was blue. The dance floor was large, surrounded by tables and had poles stuck in it for the more desperate to make their case to be the next thing to appear on SimmedMyGirlfriend or SlotOrNot.

      The one virtue for the regulars was it was, to put it indelicately, a bigot den. Management had seen fit to discourage anything but us Breeders from making an appearance, preserving the wonderful ambiance.

      We may run a social armpit, but at least it's a Human armpit.

      Only no one had told these guys.

      One taps me on the arm and halls me out of my seat by a wrist. I blow my sight on reflex and see that the overgrown, bald loser in the white suit has an aura as black as the hair on my head. It feels like frozen lizard shit grated over a salad. A salad without dressing.

      And I'd have felt that way sooner if I hadn't clenched up on the astral perceptions while making my case to Basley.

      No matter.

      I ignited a thumb and put out his eye.

      And all it did was make him mad.

      I was thrown through the air like a rag doll and collided with the fattest of the pole dancing wagers. But that's not such a big deal.

      Yes, they're fat but that's not what I meant.

      Sending me anywhere doesn't exactly take air freight. I'm not that big. Or even a little big. I'm the kind of girl that can very safely massage a person by walking on their back and had been doing so for the better part of a year. Normaly I prefer to be in costume for an evening out. Laundry night had deprived me of all my best and it would have been tacky to wear high heels with jeans and a black t-shirt advertising my enthusiam for mathimatical proofs.

      It's a geek thing. Don't ask.

      But I did take my umbrella.

      Basley hurled it to me from the bar and I managed to drop it as bouncers waded through fleeing nobodies.

      I swept it upwards at One-eye who moved out of the way. I only managed to broadcast gouts of orange kinetic violence into a barstool and some inferior domestic beer bottles on display. No harm done at least.

      I decided to pick an unaware target and woozily took aim.

      For the record, using juicy magic is like pulling from a cigarette after a week of nothing but good clean, north american smog. It leaves your head swimming and extremities tingling. All of that means my shot at a white-suit strangling a bouncer over a table and hitting the next table over was... well not awful.

      Pitching fastballs via foci is not my specialty.

      I can't even land balls of paper in a waste bin.

      Then the bouncer came at me involuntarily and on a near horizontal arc.

      Now that was a big deal.

      But like I said, once I'd inverted his knee he seemed content to stay on the ground. One-eye had closed with a table held over his head, chunks of the floor still clinging where it had been bolted down.

      I quick-drawed that one without the umbrella for arcane leverage and nearly blacked out. Multiplying the tables weight by a factor of ten is not part of my daily workout and was the only thing that came to mind.

      One-Eye's two wrists snapped and the table did its best impression of a minivan coming down on him.

      Two of six. Now for the rest. Spotting black auras in a dark blue room was easy. Coming up with something to take on all four as they charged me that wouldn't just liquefy my brains was almost impossible.

      Basley mimed pulled open an invisible bra and sloshed his glass of beer on the floor.

      Ah.

      A plan.

      Now when you hear things about the Astral Plane, don't forget it's tied up with this one. Just like those black clouds that hung around the... the white-suits. Happy house means happy ether. Unhappy house means unhappy either.

      I was standing on a hot spot of emotionally charged kinesthetic intelligence. I just needed to tap it and lasso them into position. Hell, four baddies, four stripper poles, they could strut their stuff while I found a can of gasoline or napalm.

      Well, the first part went fine. Unfortunately, I think I skipped some thaumaturgical details. Or maybe the pure resonance of being a desperate woman in bad company generated an interference field with...

      I could go on. The short and bitter is my aim was a tad off and I began to shake my modest moneymaker.

      Funny thing, it was working.

      As far as out of body experiences go, playing stripper-kung-fu-mistress rated a seven, maybe an eight. I bent, wobbled, slinked and swung around poles in the most unlikely ways, but they didn't lay a hand on me. One even punched a pole, leaving a gruesome yellow smear from newly arranged fingers.

      I was down to bra, panties and one grey sock before I gasped my plea out to Basley.

      "Help!"

      "Now!"

      "Please!"

      Kendrick Basley is the real deal. He's got the whole wizzy image down. Big hat. Big glasses. Big coat. All colored deep blue that glinted or darkened subtly when he played his hand. No doubt he'd been concealing himself with some slick trick, at least to the white-suits.

      He drew the esoteric shooting irons in a quick left-right motion .

      I was severed from my own fumbled enchantment, ending the show with a huge run and slide towards my "audience."

      Then a bolt of lightning flickered between the posts I'd just gotten away from. I flipped over on my back and saw the bunch of them twitching on the floor, smoking. Something told me I'd just ducked a mass-defibrillation and it might have been my clothes smoldering on the dance floor.

      Damnit.

      I decided to count the parts of me that were not sore, creaking or throbbing instead of the ones that were. Based on that count, I dragged myself to the bar. I fumbled out a can of vegetable juice got to know it rather well.

      Blind without my glasses and cold in my slotting skivvies, I got Bas to confirm he'd set me up for a run.

      "So, what were those things?"

      Bas got up and tipped his hat. "That, you can't afford. Maybe when you've got yourself a few more credits I'll be willing to enlighten you."

      Nearing the doors, he faded out like water sizzling off a hotplate.

      I decided likewise. My umbrella had somehow ended up by the, hopefully, unconcious bouncers. I opened it above my head and began twisting a phantasm around myself for modesty. Assuming I could move in the morning, I'd get around to doing my damned laundry.

I can't speak for Shadow but I thought it was great Roxy!

[Roxy Rocket]

      Thanks.

      Though yours and Brittlby's were more concise.

      *glares at her dull editing machete*

      I guess I'll go re-read the magey sections and find some structure.

      *flitters off*

[ShadowOfHeaven]

I was intrested in the gun girl but you still have not replied to my PM. I was asking if I had to use the mini backstory you had written, or if I could make my own?

Gun Girl went to Lithium.
Thanks though :)

[ShadowOfHeaven]

Guess what!
We have our initial 4 characters filled.

We can get down to the details and get to playing.
This is a good thing.

Character creation information incoming...

[Lithium]

The coppery taste of blood filled Maeve's mouth as she was dragged along through some damp but brightly lit corridor. Her vision was still quite blurry, but she could at least make out the brick walls that were passing her by on either side; they were old - obviously, bricks were a thing of the past - and covered in graffiti, most of it faded with only a few pieces retaining the vibrant colors that marked them as relatively recent. Round neon lamps hung from a high ceiling nearly three twenty feet high, filling the passageway in a sterile white light. They had to be newly installed, Maeve decided, since not a single one was burned out or flickering. She managed to piece together that she was underground in some ancient part of the city which had been built over, and that somebody was using it as some sort of hideout or place where they could conduct their dirty work in private, but none of that was particularly helpful.

On top of that, there were so many people that didn't like her that it was impossible to even guess who'd sent their goons after her. There was Chen, who owned a well known poker club in the red light district where Maeve had gotten into a fistfight over sketchy sleight of hand move that she was convinced the dealer had pulled. The situation escalated pretty quickly, and by the end of it half of the club had been torn apart, not to mention that she'd put most of the bouncers out of commission for at least the foreseeable future. It was worth the beating that Maeve herself had taken in the process. Nobody cheated her, ever. Then there was that shootout at Mick's bar, although she'd been too hammered to remember what it was even all about. Oh, and don't forget those street samurai in that alley near Fixer street, they wore Gravelord colors..."

All of that was just in the last five days, and it wasn't even including Maeve's shadowruns, so trying to figure out who would want to exact their revenge upon her was like trying to find a black cat in a coal cellar. The hallway ended soon enough, at which point she was shoved through a doorway so roughly that she stumbled and fell to one knee. Groaning, Maeve ran a hand over her face and brushed away the strands of violet and scarlet hair from over her eyes before cumbersomely betting back up to her feet. The bruised ribs on her right side made her wince, but that wasn't half as bad as the feeling that she got when she laid eyes on the person sitting behind the simple stainless steel table in front of her. She'd sobered up enough by then to recognize Alora Corporation's 'business consultant', although Maeve knew the woman by her true title of shadowrun orchestrator. There wasn't any love lost between the two of them.

"Huh, I knew I could smell cunt around here somewhere." Maeve spoke first.

Mrs. Carlson didn't even deign to reply, preferring instead to signal the two brutes standing behind Maeve with a simple wave from two of her fingers. She braced herself for what she knew was coming and winced preemptively in anticipation of the blow which followed about half a second later. The back of at armored glove smashed into the side of the shadowrunner's face, knocking her right off of her feet yet again. Maeve landed heavily on her side, blood flowing out of her lower lip where the impact had split it, her head ringing and her ear feeling like somebody had just stuck a hot poker into it. She lamented herself with a long, drawn out moan, but eventually struggled up to her feet yet again. She smiled with the corner of her mouth, looking rather wild with the blood dripping down from her chin and the random lengths of colorful hair hanging over her face.

"I missed you too," Maeve added with no shortage of sarcasm.

"Did you think that you could just get three of my men killed and just walk away Scott-free, you little delinquent slut?" The tall blonde in the fitted white business suit with a plunging neckline fired back, getting right down to business.

"Me?" Maeve chuckled, "Your intel was and we got jumped, you're lucky that any of us got out at all. What, did you get spanked by your boss or something so now you're looking for somebody to take it out on? Maybe you should just go get yourself laid instead you frigid bitch. I know these two Swedish brothers who could blow your mind, I can give you their number if you want." The offer had been meant as an insult at first, but the more that she thought of it, the more that it seemed like a good idea. Maybe getting banged silly was just what Carlson needed to dislodge that broomstick from up her ass.

Another wave and again the hired muscle was on top of her, both of them this time. One of them grabbed Maeve's forearms and pinned them against the small of her back while the other one treated himself to a fistful of her hair, jerking her forwards before pushing her down so that she was bent over the cold table.

"You should really learn when to shut that nasty mouth of yours," Carlson stated casually while pulling a silver handgun with a white marble grip out from somewhere. "Don't worry, I'll teach you." The woman's hand closed around Maeve's jaw, squeezing it with so much power courtesy of what could only be augmentations that she immediately forced her mouth open. The ornate pistol's barrel stuffed her mouth before she could get another word out. Its wielder cocked it with a loud click, at which point Maeve began to actually feel worried for the first time. She still didn't think that Carlson would have gone through all of this trouble just to put a bullet into her head, but it was still a very unsettling situation.

"Mmm, much better, I'd say. Those lips were clearly made for sucking," the blonde taunted.

Her nostrils flaring with anger, Maeve grunted and struggled to move, but the pair of goons holding her pinned down were even more heavily augmented than their employer, making it an entirely futile endeavor.

"Settle down if you want to live long enough to hear what I'm about to offer. It's more than you deserve. Good. Now, although I would love nothing more than to splatter your brain all over these walls, an...acquaintance of mine has insisted on covering the losses that you caused us in exchange for your services. I tried to convince him that your sorry ass wasn't worth it and that he'd be better off hiring some common rabble from off the streets, but unfortunately he insisted."

Maeve tried to speak, but she could only manage several unintelligible sounds thanks to the gun in her mouth.

"What's that? Oh, you want to know what will happen if you refuse? Well..." Carlson unrolled the old leather carrying roll which was placed at the corner of the table with her free hand, revealing a set of shoddy looking surgical tools. "I hear those eyes of yours are worth a small fortune. They're this year's most recent model, aren't they? Now, I'm no surgeon, but I'm sure that I could carve them out of you - eventually. So, what'll it be?" Carlson pulled out a phone from the pocket of her jacket and placed it on the side of the table opposite from the scalpels.

As much as Maeve loathed being forced into doing anything against her will, she swallowed her pride and moved her eyes towards the phone, widening them to show that she was choosing that.

"What's that? The knives, you say?" the blonde asked coyly while reaching over for one of her torture instruments.

She wants me to beg, Maeve realized as her blood boiled inside of her veins. "Mmmm...mmmppphhhhh!!" she moaned, giving Carlson what she wanted since it was still a more appealing option than getting her eyes removed, although just barely.

"Clever bitch."

Instead of letting her go just yet, Carlson shoved the barrel of her pistol further into Maeve's mouth until it was all the way in her throat, making her gag and twitch violently. The sadistic megacorp employee kept it up until Maeve's face had turned almost as purple as her hair, only releasing her after she'd already blacked out.

She didn't know how much time had gone by before she finally woke up, but Carlson and her lapdogs were gone, leaving nothing but the phone behind. There was nothing but a vague message about a job recorded on it; no contact information, no details for a meeting or anything like that, so she figured that her mysterious new employer and perhaps savior would contact her when he was ready. Feeling a lot more sore now that all of the alcohol had left her system, Maeve snatched the phone up and trudged her way back home to her crappy apartment where she could lick her wounds and find another bottle or six.

[ShadowOfHeaven]

OOC thread here -
https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=151438.0

Look here for character creation.

[ShadowOfHeaven]

update - we are using the full SR4 system.