Taxi - a Cyberpunk Introduction

by storytelleric

This is the introduction my gaming group had to my Cyberpunk character "Taxi". For the uninitiated, Cyberpunk characters have randomly rolled personalities, quirks, and traits, so it was a bit of a challenge to figure out how everything meshed together. But fun! Edited by Sabrina06. Note: Had to select Shadowrun as the game because there is no Cyberpunk entry.

1. You're Late!

Part 1: "You're Late!"

My stroll is perfect as I enter the buzzing Red Cab office. Despite the noise, my boss's aggrieved yell cuts clear across the room. "You're late!"

He doesn't get it. Of course I'm late. It's hard to make an entrance - you know, the kind of entrance you can only make with the right saunter, in adaptive camo, big hair and spike-heeled boots - when you're early.

I catch the keys he flings in my direction. By the time they hit my palm, he's already rattled off an address and "ten minutes!"

Everyone in the office is pretty good at what they do. You don't stay long at Red if you're not. And they all do the same thing I do automatically - a quick mental processing of the route. And then reprocessing when they figure out that there is no f'ing way that that amounts to anything less than a twenty-two minute trip.

I know the roads they're thinking of, and they're right. At this time of day, it would probably be more like twenty-three or twenty-four.

For me? Nine. Tops.

I raise my boss's blood pressure another notch by grabbing a soykaf before strolling back out the door. Despite the outward casualness, my mind's already racing down the route, flagging construction zones, T-jams, tollbooths and speed traps.

I swing into Car 13 and hum the 'lectrics. Cuz I know my boss is watching on the cams, I finally let him have what he needs: I pirouette the car on the spot, hit the gas, and I'm out of the gate before it's even up. (Don't ask how. I ain't gonna tell.)

Outside, everyone's standing still. Oh, they think they're moving. I let my consciousness expand so that everything registers but nothing focuses, dance the car over two lanes (it's just paint on the road, people!) and I'm off. A text comes in through the car deck.

[TBelt: Betting on you. Don't let me down!]

Ah there we go, good old Tinkerbelt, taking advantage of the office noobs again. I wonder how many of them took her up on that bet. I have a heartbeat of time between two mom-vans to reply.

[Taxi: I get half.]

[TBelt: Deal.]

Alley. One-way-wrong-way. Sidewalk. Three-level parkade with half-hidden exit to the next street over. Across the railway a hairs-breadth before the train (there's that gate-trick again, and no, I still ain't telling). Self-righteous prick in a guzz-truck tries to cut me off, but I'm already past him, his rude gesture instantly forgettable. Time's counting down but so's the klicks. I leave two cops wondering if they just saw a red blur or if it was just their caffeinated imaginations.

Two blocks left, and forty-five seconds. I have a choice: two blocks of heavy traffic, or an alleyway that I know is full of garbage bins and homeless.

Yeah, I made it. Ten seconds to spare. Not a scratch on the car, either. Though I'm pretty sure that one bin isn't quite in the same spot anymore.