Post by Deleted on Mar 19, 2006 2:36:03 GMT -5
Bodhi walked up to the front of the line outside of the DeadWorld bar. Wiggling the fingers of her left hand, held down at her side, she quickly manipulated the interface of her commlink's OS, gazing at the transluscent images of the Augmented Reality that danced before her. In seconds, she was sending a twenty cred bribe to the bouncer, an african-american ork of a stocky, solid build. The social profile next to his head named him as Malcolm. Pressing a button on the comm hanging off his belt, the words "Transaction Complete" flickered across her vision. With a nod, he stepped aside and let her within.
As she made her way within, her left hand once again began manipulating the comm, and she linked up to the DeadWorld host. After a few brief moments, she sighed. No messages left for her.
"Figures," she thought to herself. "Nobody even knows who I am yet."
With her ungloved right hand, she reached within her coat, withdrawing a pack of smokes from a concealed pocket. For a second, her finger traced along the barrel of her concealed weapon, a Colt America L36, and she frowned. She hated the thing, though it had served its purpose more than once.
The woman placed a cigarette in her mouth, then followed with the zippo, puffing liberally until the cherry caught. Sitting down at the bar, she brought up the restaurant's host and looked over the drink menu. With a derisive, bitter laugh, she passed over the disappointing beer selection and ordered up a screwdriver. Almost as if by remote, the bartender at the other end of the counter sprang into life, preparing her drink.
"Kinda cute," she mused, tapping a finger against her lips. Wiggling her fingers within the AR glove, it felt almost as if she were tapping the keys on an old-style terminal, the force-feedback simulating physical contact. Along with a five cred tip, she typed out: "nise ass, quick srvice, ur worth it :-)." The bartender, an elf in his thirties, gave her a wink as he set the drink down before her, and then went down to take care of another queued order.
Bodhi peered out at the club. She really did like this place. Its gimmick was a little over-the-top -- skulls, black paint, neo-goth decorum, veneration of the macabre -- and its typical patrons were no better, but she always had a weak spot for blatant kitsch. The music could've been considered unoriginal by even 20th century standards, but it sufficed to set a mood.
She sipped her drink and ran her fingers back through the numerous, tightly woven braids her dark hair was fashioned into. Panning the crowd with her sight and taking note of the odd profile, she thought to herself, "Gotta start somewhere."
And she set off watching the place while trying to remain casual. She heard people came here sometimes. Important people. The kind of people that would give her a job. She had skills, as odd as they were. Spellslingers were in high demand in every field, especially so in the one in which she was trying to work her way. For one of the SINless and unfortunate, the pay couldn't be beat. And her creds were certainly trickling away into nothing. Habits were expensive to maintain, and hers even more so than most.
"I hope something drops in my lap soon," she grumbled. "I don't know how the hell I'm gonna get a fix if this shit keeps up."
As she made her way within, her left hand once again began manipulating the comm, and she linked up to the DeadWorld host. After a few brief moments, she sighed. No messages left for her.
"Figures," she thought to herself. "Nobody even knows who I am yet."
With her ungloved right hand, she reached within her coat, withdrawing a pack of smokes from a concealed pocket. For a second, her finger traced along the barrel of her concealed weapon, a Colt America L36, and she frowned. She hated the thing, though it had served its purpose more than once.
The woman placed a cigarette in her mouth, then followed with the zippo, puffing liberally until the cherry caught. Sitting down at the bar, she brought up the restaurant's host and looked over the drink menu. With a derisive, bitter laugh, she passed over the disappointing beer selection and ordered up a screwdriver. Almost as if by remote, the bartender at the other end of the counter sprang into life, preparing her drink.
"Kinda cute," she mused, tapping a finger against her lips. Wiggling her fingers within the AR glove, it felt almost as if she were tapping the keys on an old-style terminal, the force-feedback simulating physical contact. Along with a five cred tip, she typed out: "nise ass, quick srvice, ur worth it :-)." The bartender, an elf in his thirties, gave her a wink as he set the drink down before her, and then went down to take care of another queued order.
Bodhi peered out at the club. She really did like this place. Its gimmick was a little over-the-top -- skulls, black paint, neo-goth decorum, veneration of the macabre -- and its typical patrons were no better, but she always had a weak spot for blatant kitsch. The music could've been considered unoriginal by even 20th century standards, but it sufficed to set a mood.
She sipped her drink and ran her fingers back through the numerous, tightly woven braids her dark hair was fashioned into. Panning the crowd with her sight and taking note of the odd profile, she thought to herself, "Gotta start somewhere."
And she set off watching the place while trying to remain casual. She heard people came here sometimes. Important people. The kind of people that would give her a job. She had skills, as odd as they were. Spellslingers were in high demand in every field, especially so in the one in which she was trying to work her way. For one of the SINless and unfortunate, the pay couldn't be beat. And her creds were certainly trickling away into nothing. Habits were expensive to maintain, and hers even more so than most.
"I hope something drops in my lap soon," she grumbled. "I don't know how the hell I'm gonna get a fix if this shit keeps up."