"Fuck this city. Fuck this planet." A trail of smoke from a cigarette trembles weakly in the rain. The plume rises and mingles with the steam sizzling off of the pulse revolver. A man stands on a roof, gazing skyward, transfixed in the smear of green, pink, and blue that is the overcast skyline. The smoke and steam fades the vibrant sky, and the man drops his head, the illusion over. A drenched trench coat hangs on his shoulders, drooping, and his arms lay limp at his side. His soggy fedora, a relic in his time, clings to his head, as a stream drips off its brim onto the retired replica below. A toddler cries from beneath the hunched mass of the replica, wondering why Mommy is missing part of her head. The man pulls aside the frail replica. The muffled cries get louder. "Hey kiddo, it's OK," he whispers, picking up the toddler, writhing. He produces a doll from his pocket; another relic from another time. Bouncing the child in his arms, he removes the fedora, revealing a face strained and wrinkled beyond the man's young years. "Shhh, everything's going to be OK," he says, presenting the doll to the child. "We'll get you a new home real soon."
"Hurry up man, chief will kill us if we stay out too long." Another man, thinner, healthier than the first, nudges the elder. "Also, spit that shit out of your mouth, man! Second hand smoke is terrible for kids!"
The tiny hand curls around the doll and snatches it, promptly transferring the doll to the tiny mouth. "Hold the kid for a second." The elder passes the child away, keeping the cigarette firmly gripped between his lips. His hand flies to his ear, and presses a button on a earpiece.
"Chief, we killed her. There's one thing tho-"
"Killed it, Rano. They're just damn machines."
"Yeah, we killed it. Anyways, it looks like she was caring for a toddler."
A pause. "You're fucking kidding me."
"No. What should we do with the kid?"
"Christ, damned if I know. Euthanize it."
"You got the means to care for it? Sure as hell this city don't. Toss it off the roof into the trash compactor. Save it from a miserable life."
A longer pause. "I'll figure something out."
"Rano, don't get soft on me now. Soft ones die."
The man clicks the receiver off and pinches the bridge of his nose, a grimace stretched across his face. "Fuck this city. Fuck this planet." He walks over to his partner and motions for the child.
I'd love to have anyone with imagination and a penchant for a darker role-play jump in. I'd like to play Rano, but I'm open for any kind of character to join the story, whether you want to play as a human, replica, or otherwise. I'd tell you where I want this roleplay to go, but you have just as much say in it as I do.
If you're interested, don't hesitate to respond.