Cyber Dystopia, Down Home Romance or 60s affair (M for F)

Started by eightxinfinity, October 21, 2018, 10:55:06 PM

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Hey E, long time since I've done any serious writing, looking to dangle my toes back into the pool with a few older ideas that have been tugging away at me lately.
These stories are M (me) and F (you), but none of the main details are set in stone. If you're interested in them, please shoot me a PM so we can discuss what we'd like to see. Having a writer communicate with me makes the stories that much better.
My O/Os are listed below in my signature, but again, PM me with any questions. Anyways! The ideas!

Under the Skin - Sci-Fi, Cyberpunk, Possible Non-con, Gritty, Action
In a future where cyborgs are gaining sentience, a Neo-Chicago detective is dragged into a plot involving a cyborg sex worker who is being implicated in a murder she can't remember. Despite his loathing for skinjobs he is forced onto the case where they discover this plot goes much deeper than a John and an android hooker.
The focus on this is the tense relationship between the detective who hates all manner of cyborgs and the sultry sex bot he's supposed to be investigating. How deep the plot goes with the murder is up to us to decide, though I do have some ideas from the last time I tried to run this scenario.

Example snippet below:
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
A spark of flame pierced the predawn darkness as James brought an aged lighter up to the cigarette pressed between hardset lips. The flickering ember was the only source of light in the narrow alley standing between the two massive slum towers. The two edifices were behemoths, blocking out what little sun would make its way through the constantly smog covered Neo-Chicago sky. Behind him a low groan caused James to turn cautiously, sure hands reaching for the worn grip of the heavy pistol strapped inside his jacket. The weapon, sensing his touch, fed a biofeedback signal up through his fingertips to the small implant on the back of his neck. Immediately his senses sharpened as his synapses fired at nearly twice the normal human rate.

A cough following the groan revealed itself as a homeless man lying at the back of the alley, rolling around angrily before going silent once more. James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a puff of cigarette smoke billowing into the air did so. Reluctantly he let go of his gun, his mind decelerating back to normal human limits. It was a hard process, the letting go. When the smartlink was firing it was easy to want to stay in that heightened state, but doing so for long periods could burn out the neural pathways, leaving one brain dead. James readjusted his jacket, running a hand across his two day old stubble on his strong jaw before striding out of the alley.

Though the sun was not yet up he found himself squinting as he exited the darkened alley. All about him neon signs lit the early morning, each more flashy and garish than the last, filling nearly every free space available, begging for attention. It was somewhat ironic that the areas of town most splashed with floor to sky advertising were the parts where no one could afford to buy anything. The bright lights caused James to close his eyes briefly, his head still throbbing from alcohol fueled sleeping aid the night before. He briefly considered hailing an airbus, but decided the fresh hair, what little of it there was now, would do him well. A drizzle of rain he hadn’t noticed from between the slum towers freckled the front of his jacket, causing him to close the front and briefly wonder if he should go back for a hat. It never just drizzled in Neo-Chicago these days, and if real rain was coming… he shook his head, deciding he’d be fine as he turned, padding down the crowded slum streets.

A cacophony of sounds washed over James as he strode through the crowds. Street vendors calling out wares, both legal and illegal, the teeth rattling roar of air cars blasting by overhead, and the constant background noise of a city doing its best not to devour itself. These sounds all combined to form the sickening soundtrack of life in Neo-Chicago. Turning a corner James paused. Ahead of him a different sound, angry voices, beastial snarls and the gnashing of teeth. A group of rough looking men were standing around a huddle form, faces twisted in rage as they spit curses. James eyes widened in alarm, hand going once more for the cannon in his jacket, pausing only when the crowd shifted long enough for him to see their intended victim within.

At first glance it looked human enough. They always did, the later models anyhow, but this one had the tell tale dead eyes and empty emotional expression that was a clear giveaway. A synthoid, cyborg, mechano. The name was different depending on which of the big manufacturers they were from. A discarded sign drawn on flimsy plastiboard lay nearby, exacting handwriting covering it. ‘Please help, abandoned after awakening’ James curled his lip up at that. No one could explain what was causing it, the programmers and captains of industry had no answers. Sometime in the last ten years these machines had began to gain feelings, independence. Pinocchioing the Newsnets had called it, becoming real boys as an awakening of consciousness spread across the globe.

“It’s hard enough finding work without you goddamn skin jobs coming in here and trying to take food off my plate!” One of the men yelled before stepping forward and delivering a hard kick to the mech’s side. A pitiful almost human cry escaped the robot as he curled up into a ball, two other humans spitting down into his face. James curled his lip back in disgust, releasing the grip on his gun as strode by the scene.

“Sir! Wait!” The refined mech’s voice broke through the chorus of hate being rained down upon him. James drew up short, turning to give the cyborg a narrow eyed glare. The other humans stopped as well, looking at James with confusion. “You are law enforcement, Neo-Chicago Police Department precinct #175, Detective James Caine yes? These men are in violation of no less than five felony and misdemeanor charges under Neo-Chicago criminal statutes. I request that you please arrest these men and see me safely to your precinct.” The men’s eyes widened as the bot finished, looking uncertainly at James, some of them backing away nervously while two gripped their hands into fists. James kept his eyes focused on the synth as he stepped forward, kneeling down to look the bot in its dead eyes. This one was clearly a luxury model, one of the various homekeepers in some wealthy suburban enclave.

“You scanning me socket fucker?” James asked menacingly as the droid tilted its head at the words. “You’re right, I’m NCPD, and my job is to protect and serve, but not the likes of you Pinocchio. Near as I’m concerned all these citizens are doing is making a little bit of a racket and beating up an old junkbox.” He pulled himself to his feet, his jacket fluttering out behind him, handle of the pistol clearly visible. “And I think we can let this one slide, provided you boys dispose of the mess once you’re done?” The predatory grins on the men’s faces were somewhat chilling as they enthusiastically agreed to comply.

They Say You Can Never Come Home - Modern, Romantic
He was a bit of a stoner burnout loser, classic kid who would never amount to anything. She was his best friend's sister, and he was hopelessly smitten with her. He hid it well, but eventually he couldn't stand being around what he knew he could never have. So he left town the only way he could, he enlisted in the Marines. Now he's finally coming home and changed man, though he has no idea what to expect when he gets there.
This would be a romantic thread about a guy coming back to a life he completely left behind, and rediscovering the girl he had always wanted most. Good elements could be her being engaged to someone she's not sure about, or other obstacles to make things even more difficult.

Example snippet below:
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
James leaned back against the cold steel interior of the C-150. The vibrating of the engines sent tiny shivers through his body as he closed his eyes, trying to catch some sleep on the flight back home. Nearly four years he'd been over in that shit hole of a desert, and these moments of relative quiet were the ones he cherished the most.

He was heading home, temporarily yes, but it was so rare for a scout-sniper to get any leave that Specialist Colbert wasn't going to complain about the duration. Though maybe the circumstances… he thought to himself as he looked down at his leg, still wrapped in a compression cast. Someone had pulled some strings for him, gotten him assigned to rehabilitation near home. The injury wasn’t debilitating, but it would require a bit of work to get James back on his feet and into the fight. The chance to see his family and enjoy some R&R while he was at it was an added bonus.

He'd seen a lot more shit than he ever expected to when he'd signed up, a twig of a fellow, at age 18. He'd barely had the chops to be accepted, fresh out of high school, no real job skills, but he'd squeaked by, and found the one thing his life had been lacking. Discipline.

His parents had always let him slide by with D+ effort, stopped trying to push him after middle school when it became obvious that all James would do was dig his heels in and fight them on every attempt at improvement. But not the corps, they wouldn’t put up with any shit from a snot nosed maggot like him. "Oorah." He whispered under his breath, a small smile playing across his face. They'd whipped him into shape, taken a slacker and turned him into a warrior. Into a real man.

James had been a good shot. It was the one thing he had been willing to extend any effort on back at home. Hunting, trap shooting, just getting a little buzzed with his old friends and shooting at cans, James had been operating a firearm for most of his life. His trainers at boot recognized that and he was fast tracked into sniper school. He'd earned his PIG (Professionally Instructed Gunman) and had excelled at his training, quickly receiving his HOG (Hunter of Gunmen) as well.

He closed his eyes as he remembered his first deployment and mission as a sniper. He’d camped in the mountainous desert terrain of Afghanistan with his spotter for two straight days, having spent another week slowly marching into the position, narrowly avoiding a detection that would have led to his capture countless times. Lying in wait for his target, moving just enough to keep his muscles from seizing up, James’ spotter finally whispered quietly ‘Tango one is in the open by the far south roar.’ Taking a deep breath James lined his sights, gently set the bolt of the heavy fifty caliber rifle and squeezed the trigger. When all was said and done he’d netted five confirmed kills in, a high ranking Al-Qaeda official, the Eight of Clubs, and four of his bodyguards.  Since that day James had existed with the Scout Sniper motto, 'One Shot, One Kill.'

His dark hazel eyes opened as he stared out the window, watching the desert fade into the background. He ran his hand through his dark brown hair, wishing he could fade the memories away as easily. Standing to his feet awkwardly with the help of a crutch he stretched slightly, his six foot five frame uncomfortably huddled down on the cargo deck of the Hercules. He'd always been tall, but he'd also been a sloucher. The marines had fixed that quickly. He'd also been a bean pole of a fellow, barely topping 180lbs, tiny for his height. Now he sat at a good 220, all of it muscle. "We'll be putting down in Riyadh in about an hour sir." The pilot said as James approached the cockpit. "You'll have a couple hours in the airport, but then you're on your way home soldier." A small smile crossed James face as he thanked the air force pilot.

Summer in the City - Mid-century, Slice of Life, Romantic, Cheating
It's August in New York City, the place is a swamp and all the people who can afford to have fled to cooler regions to wait the month out. He can't go though, his job demanded he stay near the city, and honestly he's happy for a break from his wife and kids even if it means suffering the heat. I'm looking for someone to play the younger neighbor down the hall in the luxury apartment building he lives. Perhaps a new comer to the city, or maybe a live in nanny or something else. What happens when the two of them encounter each other? And what kind of naughtiness will they get up to in an attempt to beat the heat?

This one is inspired by the fact that I've been watching through Mad Men again, and I'm open to fleshing this one out a little bit more with a willing partner.

Hopefully something in there grabs your interest, at least enough to PM me so we can discuss something back and forth!
Ons/Offs and my poorly maintained idea thread


Back after quite a break, bumping to the front in the hopes of attracting some interest
Ons/Offs and my poorly maintained idea thread