Hello, hello! Tainted here, with a new story in a new category all about new stuff, never before seen and all that new goodness.
In case you want to figure out what you're reading and the summary isn't enough - this is set within Gun Gale Online, in a semi-alternate setting. An AU? It could be taken that way, I dunno'. Regardless, it's not focused on Kirito or his crew, and they're not the main characters, though they'll pop up here and there. If ya' don't like that, I'll advise you to head off now to save yourself time. If ya' don't mind, I hope this'll meet your standards!
Anyway, I'll chatter more at the bottom. Please enjoy this prologue of prologues!
Onward!
One must always expect the unexpected.
One should never underestimate the unknown.
One should never grow complacent, for that is when life's vicious surprises will certainly strike.
And one must always remember, Earth-shattering change often comes from the most unlikely of places.
"...Mhhhh… Get… back here…"
The room is dim, dyed a faint mixture of blue and white from a computer monitor left on, idle and unattended, the light it streams combining with the gentle glow of a mouse's brand insignia fading in and out, cycling through its rainbow array. The desk upon which these items sit is plain and fairly open, save for the tower in which the pieces are plugged in and connected, as well as a sturdy headset, and a generic keyboard alongside both of them… and a lengthy cord trailing across the floor to the nightstand.
A spacious place, in that standing opposite of the desk and its accompanying chair is a sprawling bed with a rather bland nightstand beside it, as well as an unassuming mahogany wardrobe and its matching dresser sitting side by side against one of the remaining walls, but the space is also very small when one considers that this room comprises most everything of the apartment. From the short hallway connecting this room to the door leading out into the world stem two small spaces; a barebones bathroom on one side, and a storage area on the other. Whether the latter room was originally intended to be a kitchen or a pantry goes unseen, as whatever was initially planned has been completely paved over with various shelves and drawers brimming with various knick knacks and games.
The owner of this simultaneously impressive and unimpressive space stirs upon her bed, letting out a soft sigh as she rolls onto her side, a white cylindrical pillow squished against her, her arms wrapped around it as she holds it close. Her long black hair is messy, somewhat knotted and exceptionally haphazard from a restless night's sleep. She huffs with budding frustration, leaning her head back briefly to blow air abruptly upward, dislodging some strands that had covered her face. Eyes flutter open, the groggy blue-green hazy at first as they adjust to the weak lighting, her fingers digging into the pillow with a touch of disdain. Shifting her attention over to the digital clock on her nightstand, she squints.
"...Five… fifty two? Six in the... morning… or evening?" she hazily mumbles, flicking her eyes to the monitor. In her mind, she contemplates the night prior, considering intently whether she had gone to sleep in the twilight hours or dawn. After a few more moments of deliberation, she nonchalantly shrugs to herself, deciding the topic remained fairly unimportant. Instead, a more prominent matter floats to the forefront of her mind.
"...How much do I need, again…?" she asks herself, her coherence beginning to return to her as her gaze remains on the monitor across the room. Sifting through her thoughts, she sighs with a touch of irritation as the answer comes to her. "...Still a bit, if I want to get that new one. Damn it," she grumbles, slowly rising from the covers. Flicking her attention down to the pillow, she wrinkles her nose before tossing it off toward the rest of the cushions piled at the top of the bed.
"...To eat before I get on, or to just get back to it," she ponders aloud, lifting a hand to run through her hair absentmindedly, combing through it casually. When had she last eaten? Did she feel faint? Could she go a bit longer without having to waste money on another meal? A barrage of important questions flow through her brain, to which she purses her lips and shrugs them off leisurely. "I'll live. Probably."
Sliding off of her bed, she rises to a standing position and raises her arms over her head, yawning. Stretching away her fatigue, the black raven's nest tumbles downward like an avalanche, curling around her body, drawing a soft sound of satisfaction from her as her muscles and bones let out a multitude of comfortable pops and cracks. After running through the full routine, now far more awake than before, she drops her hands to her sides and rolls her shoulders. Surveying the room with a disinterested gaze, she frowns at a passing reflective thought. Debating as to whether she ought to change some things around, she quickly dismisses the line of contemplation, opting instead to move over to the computer. Plopping down, the chair emits the smallest of squeaks at her meager weight, and it briefly crosses her mind that she very well might need to eat something sooner rather than later.
At this revelation, she clicks her tongue. "...That'd be another hundred thousand or so… and I'd have to brush my hair and go outside. Damn it." The look on her face mirrors her utter disgust at such an idea, finding herself in a state of conflict until her eyes widen. "Or, wait...I could call someone to deliver, right? Ah, but… I'd have to tip them, though," she mutters quickly, grimacing. That solution would just add even more costly expenses onto the pile.
Or does a delivery person need to be paid? This consideration crosses her mind, but she swiftly waves it away. She is cheap, sure, but she isn't ill-mannered towards such people. In fact, they, the delivery people, are a godsend to her; the less she has to go outside, the better, after all.
She is, in fact, something of a shut-in. Existing exclusively as a reclusive video game junkie that makes her living through an exchange system inside one of the many she plays, her career of gaming has ended up contributing much to her excessive practice of frugality. Given how much effort she needs to exert to earn enough in-game money to pay off her rent and monthly costs, as well as the rest of her basic amenities and needs, she has found that less certainly meant more, and this could be seen in all aspects of her lifestyle.
Her home is a small and cheap apartment with the most basic of essentials to support her live-in hobby-and-job. Her meals are cut down to the bare necessities, to save on both expenses and time so that she can continue her work unaffected. Her figure has become skinny and unimpressive by most, if not all people's standards, but she remains healthy enough to function without her low weight impeding her senses and concentration. Her sleep is minimized to the extreme, coupled with dark circles under her eyes to prove it, and her body is disciplined and conditioned to make due with as little as possible rest each day. Her hair has grown out, left unattended so that she wouldn't need to waste time nor money on having it cut.
She is the spitting image of efficiency, or rather, absolute laziness so that she can invest all of her time into a myriad of games without needing to associate with the real world whatsoever. Should it bother her? Certainly. Did it? Not in the slightest.
As such, as she number-crunched on the calculator app on her computer, she came to a world-ending predicament. Simply put, she didn't have enough. No, not by a long shot. Her eye twitches as the startling, troubling, horrible realization sets in. She overestimated her money from last month by quite a bit, coupled with incorrect math made by a sleep-addled mind. In fact, the situation is far more dire than she ever anticipated. In addition to being unable to pay for the new game she wants, she currently cannot afford the rent for the month, and she wouldn't be able to pay for her subscription and she would need to excessively curb her already meager meals until the end of the month. All in all, the situation is utterly bleak, and on top of that, her pride as a loyal subscriber is on the line. If nothing else, she is nothing if not prompt on her subscription payments, ensuring her relation with the game company remains intact. Once again, she finds herself briefly questioning the choices that led her to this point.
"...Tsk. I need to adjust my routine, and… actually eat and sleep a little more," she concludes reluctantly, begrudgingly, exhaling. Focusing on the app again, she frowns, chewing on her cheek. "...At least another million and a few hundred thousand. After that, I only have to worry about food and the new game… Gaaaah," the nails of her left hand scratch angrily at her right arm, frustration welling in her. "I wanted to be one of the first into the new area, though! Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!" Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, goes her foot against the carpet.
Leaning back in her chair, she hazily gazes up at the ceiling. "Thissss… sucks."
Truthfully, she has considered trying to find a better alternative to paying for her hobbies, but she hates people and she hates manual labor, so there were few options for her if not being some sort of shut-in vegetable profiting off their hobbies. "If people paid more to off their enemies, I wouldn't be suffering like this," she mutters, running her hand through her hair again, ignoring that she, too, would likely pay as little as possible if she needed to place a bounty. "Why haven't I started publishing books or something…?"
After idling for a few moments in blatant unhappy disdain for the world around her and for limiting herself to a single form of income, the girl slowly sits up, moving her hand from her hair to her forehead as she rubs it tiredly. Based on the usual incomes of the bounties she can scrounge up, it'll take dozens and dozens of kills this time - and it always has each month prior, too, since the farming runs she embarks on while she's waiting for new high-value marks to re-emerge always go rather poorly - to reach that amount…
...And the month is coming to an end. Rapidly.
It would be better if she begins remedying the predicament sooner rather than later, as being locked out of her account or losing her home will put the nail in the coffin. Clicking her tongue, her aqua-colored eyes move along the cords strewn across the floor to the goggles beside her bed. Pursing her lips, she sighs, shaking her head as she rises to her feet.
"...I wanted a break, but I'll rest when I'm done," she relents. Blinking twice, she looks herself over, wondering. When was her last shower? Yesterday? Yes, her hair doesn't feel filthy to the touch, at least, ignoring how tangled it is. "...Eh, I'll just deal with it when I'm done. Not like I'm ordering anything yet."
Tugging her tee around, adjusting it until it's in a more comfortable position, she moves back to the bed with a touch of fatigue in each step, a slightly begrudging attitude at her self-induced insurmountable task weighing her down. Despite this, however, she settles back onto the mattress, exhaling deeply as she takes up the headset on her nightstand, nodding to herself. Lifting it into the air, she inspects it with a slight hesitation as her memories drift back to those news articles about these things before shaking her head.
"Honestly... I'm not dead yet, so what am I actually worrying about?" she admonishes herself, smiling wearily. This transition from keyboard and mouse to virtual reality, to be connected to these fantastic worlds, is so surreal and kind of intimidating, and yet it's also a thrill unlike any other. She'd never thought it possible, but here it is, in her hands, as she's about to once again embark into that world, to that wonderful post-apocalyptic online hellhole again.
Slipping it over her head and into place, she grabs the cord, plugging it into the headset as it boots up…
"...All seems normal, nominal, all of it. Time to get to work. Link... Start!"
And at once, with her mind directing the software, the headset initiates its 'FullDive' sequence.
The shift from reality to virtual reality is actually abnormally smooth, the girl feels, as her consciousness flows alongside the rainbow myriad of lines before a flash of white… and thus, the transfer of her senses completes as her vision of her surroundings returns.
The smell of a post-apocalyptic world turned feral, every breath laced to the extreme with dystopian metal, a smoky haze, and gunpowder is one she is sure she could never find anywhere else; it's truly a unique scent that she can't ever find herself put off by, though neither can she find it pleasant, per say. It's unforgettably foreign, and draws her in every time. And before her, as the rest of her avatar materializes from bright light particles into being, is the expansive horizon of stony greys and dim neons - a 'spaceship' supposedly, or named more impressively, a battlecruiser. The SBC Glocken, as it is known - the hubworld and the only particularly notable safezone-and-capital for the playerbase of the game as a whole.
Yes, Earth turned into a pseudo-apocalyptic hellhole after some form of massive war, and this ship and its people returned once the dust began to settle… and that is really all that may as well have been left. Ruins, technological ruins, deserts, and abnormal forests as far as the eye could see once one set foot on the ground, with various humanoids, beasts and a menagerie of mechanical monsters waiting to assault the unsuspecting traveler or mercenary.
Gun Gale Online, Zaskar's greatest massively popular sci-fi MMO. Her favorite hobby and also her moneymaker, given how players can trade in an amount of their credits they generate on the game for real world funds. None would usually think the concept possible to pay one's bills through extensive, lucrative gaming, but Zaskar has been good about it and continues to fund her and many others for their painstaking efforts and dedication to their game.
Then again, why wouldn't they? Her gains are fair, her work true and honest - contract work and farming materials and crappy drops are recognized aspects of the game, and she is rather good at it. She always wonders, does her name turn up from time to time in small-time game news places? She ought to pay them more attention; if she gets name-dropped, it would mean more work and more saps coming to try and ambush her, after all.
She may not be one of the listed 'Top Players' or whatever most of the game's leaderboard nonsense is about, but she also doesn't play enough of the PvE content to truly make a mark anywhere beyond PvP circles.
"Plus… with that BoB nonsense, I doubt that my name would be as commonplace," she mutters to herself, sighing. How the top two contestants this time won without having to fight one another due to the clever detonation of a grenade between the two of them had completely overwhelmed any of the game's usual discussion as of late, and for the most part, had put any of the recent accomplishments of other extensive PvP players in the dust. Not that it ultimately bothers her much; making too much of a name for herself would make hunting marks every day a bit too difficult. "...Some of them already run, though, the cowardly filth," she vocally adds to her thoughts, crossing her arms while shifting her weight to her left leg, her attention drifting upward to the sky above the ship.
She had taken this game up as a whim a year or so ago, hadn't she? It certainly hadn't been something she expected, but it definitely paid the bills and helped her cut down on having to throw hours into actual part-time work. How many accounts had she been illegally flipping for her profit on other MMOs before this…? Too many, probably, she concludes. It's far better to do things legally and without worrying about her accounts getting deleted by the game's staff, after all.
"...Oi, cutie, ya' waitin' for somebody?" a voice calls out to her, followed by the approach of two male players, though she doesn't pay them much heed. They'll go away if she ignores them long enough, probably.
Regardless, she needed to get back to a terminal to verify the current posted bounties as well as whether the Top Ten list had any actively available marks that she might be able to ambush and turn a quick profit off of. If she accepted as many as were available and cleared them and any of the renewed quests for monster hunting in the relevant areas, she might be able to quickly begin shaving down on her bill for the month…
"...Eyyy, are ya' ignorin' us? That's cold, babe. That's real cold… but I dig it," another voice prompts as the two men stop before her, leering.
"...Hm?" Her attention returns from her thoughts to take note of the two, an eyebrow rising. They're still here? "...Can I help you two?" she prompts, her expression stiffening as her gaze turns colder. Judging by their outfits, they might be mid-level at best. What were their names…?
"Huh? Didja' not hear us, sweet thing? Did your boyfriend stand ya' up?"
...Tsk, their usernames don't sound familiar. Who even names themselves xXDarkestFlameXx anyways? What is he, thirteen? He doesn't even show up in the top one hundred. What about the other one…?
"...Naaah, man. Look at that frosty gaze. She ain't waitin' for a man, but now she's got us, riight?"
"...Hahaa, you're right, man. Why don't ya' swing with us, baby?"
...He's just as irrelevant. How pitiful, she couldn't even probably take them for a joyride to nick some credits off of. In conclusion: flat-out losers. Now, what did they want? Is this some sort of cliche pick-up routine? Do they think any girl would go for this?
Wait, no. The world contains all kinds of people. After some of the things she's read, anything is possible. Or are all of the ones that post so lasciviously men in disguise? No, that's probably a wrong conclusion, isn't it…?
"...Oiii, babe, c'mon now. Don't just leave a guy hangin'. Don'tcha want some sorta' protection from all those bandits out there?" the one prompts with growing irritation, finding her lack of response ruffling his composure. He drums a hand on his thick overcoat, grimacing as he shoots a look over at his friend.
"Yeah, c'mon, honey. We wouldn't want anything to happen to such a cute face, ya' know?" the second continues coolly, smiling all the same.
...Haaah. People are so frustrating. Why would someone socialize with another person if they didn't have to, anyway? It's ridiculous, tiring, unpleasant. She'd take anything over having to experience another person's presence for longer than she had to, especially when in the company of idiots like these. The very idea that these two think they're something interesting baffles her utterly, mirrored outwardly as she shakes her head while waving a hand in the air dismissively.
"...Eh?" "...Huh?"
Whatever. While she could just walk away, they'd probably become more annoying to deal with. Should she have used a male avatar, after all? No, too late now, anyway, though she does consider this a mistake on her part fairly often lately. How to deal with these two…?
Focusing her eyes upon the duo with an icy glare, they swallow suddenly at the sub-zero cold emanating from her gaze. She shifts her weight to her other leg, lowering her eyebrows in blatant disdain. Emitting a deep, disappointed sigh, she answers them.
"...Hold your tongues and cut the disgusting good guy routine, you two bland, shrimp-dicked, run-of-the-mill losers," she begins harshly, the built-in filter likely censoring her for the two recipients, though it bothers her not. Instead, she breathes in, continuing in rapid succession, "If you ever thought that any woman would need a hand from you pathetic, posturing wastes of space, you are more delusional than you are unimpressive. You look useless, you sound useless, you breathe useless, you reek of useless. Honestly, look at yourselves. Do you think you look good? Do you think you're something special? Look in a mirror… wait, no, it's too late. Really, why bother? You're lost causes anyway. Go do something useful, like being fodder for another higher level player, or better yet, disconnect from the game and go outside. Associate like a normal human being, figure out how far that disgusting posturing would get you with literally anyone, and then get beat up like the roadside trash you are. No, really, it's gross, you're gross, and you'll always be gross, especially if you keep up like this. Find a better hobby. Or properly play the game. Go download a dating site or buy yourself an escort if you're that pathetic instead, you useless betas," she suggests, rolling her eyes while the two remain frozen as statues, blankly standing before her, dumbfounded from the sudden outburst more than anything else.
Pausing, her frown deepens as her frigid stare intensifies, her eye twitching slightly. "Also, learn your places like the low-level scrubs you are and learn to read a person's username before annoying them. What does mine say?"
They blink, stirring slightly at her prompt. One stares intently at her for a moment before tilting his head with a touch of confusion. "...Uh… Kuro?"
She nods. "Yes, Kuro. Do either of you know it, or do you live under rocks more dense than your brains?"
Eyes fluttering as if astounded once again at the harshness of her tone, they glance to one another before shifting uncomfortably, as if to say, 'Should we?'
Kuro doesn't miss this, however, and exhales with even less interest than before - once thought impossible, but proven plausible - as she recenters her gaze on them. "I am a player among the top one hundred in PvP circles, ranking fairly highly and am well-known among the top PvPers as well. If either of you were interested in more than feeding your miniscule, nonexistent manhoods, you would know that you have insulted me by offering me your useless 'protection' and if it weren't for the Glocken, I'd PK you both before you could even draw your weapons. Your 'guarding' spiel is even less effective on someone who actually plays this game, take note, by the way. Now, get out of my way before you earn any more of my ire."
While her claim itself could be seen as rather unimpressive by others ranking within the top one hundred players of the game, and while the more obsessive PvPers would no doubt scoff at her, it served well enough in deterring lowbies and pacifists. And preventing that mattered to her, as surrounding herself with slobbering fodder was a good way to get herself labeled by her would-be clients and to find her high standards degraded, as the identity 'Kuro' was nothing if not professional.
...Her real life included, of course. She took pride in being a truly self-sufficient NEET, after all. To let underaged idiots like these cling to her would be a true insult to the dedicated gamer, and her dignity as a woman.
And, as it normally went, the two turned their heads toward one another, a silent conversation going between them before they pivot on their heels, whistling as they walk away - more likely interested in avoiding provoking her any further into another tirade rather than the claims themselves since her words seemed to go over their heads, though the reason for them departing never tended to truly matter to her - leaving her alone once more.
Waiting another moment or two to ensure that they were out of earshot, she exhales tiredly, closing her eyes while shaking her head. Truly, this day is starting out less than desirable on all accounts, and she soon finds herself hoping that the bounties and quests themselves wouldn't be as inconveniently irritating as her financial situation and would-be courters.
"...If today's marks are anywhere near as annoying as hunting down and dealing with Lover Boy was, I just might consider finding a way to shoot up the Glocken," she grumbles to herself, remembering some of the many unpleasant bounties prior to today. Never before had she met a man so intent on spouting off about the impressiveness of his masculinity, nor did she wish it upon herself or anyone else, ever again. "...That much self-posturing ought to be outlawed with the death penalty as punishment," she concludes, patting down her black and red dress with hints of irritation as she squashes the memory back down.
Perhaps the fault of being approached by male players like this truly did lie with her; dressing her female avatar in an eye-catching black-and-red dress with long, shimmering silver-white hair tied back into a ponytail while giving herself piercing scarlet eyes did, unfortunately, make her stand out quite a bit. She hadn't originally considered it a problem, but as the playerbase increases, so too do the creeps.
How much did an apartment in the game cost…? That was one of the few places that would allow minor adjustments to her appearance, wasn't it? She remembers some discourse about it between multiple marks in the past, often detailing about the side-effects and implications behind visiting another player's abode, as well.
Her expression grows sour as she raises a hand to her arm, rubbing it uncomfortably. Must roleplayers be so… well, gross? They always seem to be the most intensely invested in the finer points of these virtual reality avatars, and often end up being the ones she finds herself steering clear from the most.
"...Well, no matter," Kuro reminds herself gently, straightening her posture as her head moves up and to the side, peering at the hazy silhouette of a massive building a fairly considerable distance away. The Governor's Office, her most-used hub for her contracts, quests, ammunition replenishment and dealings. Now, if only it had a dedicated appraiser and craftsman. Finding them was always quite the chore, especially when she needed to walk out to wherever her current location in the Glocken currently was.
What had she been doing the last time she'd been on - and was that yesterday, or had the day been eaten up with one of the games in her backlog, she wonders - and had she finished her business with whoever the player was?
Making a swift, brief motion with her hand, she calls up her menus, tabbing to her equipment tab. Looking over her equipment, she grins with satisfaction. So, she did upgrade her Betelgeuse 3, after all. Good, good, the increased output in damage would make initially picking off monsters and unsuspecting players quite a bit easier. Not that she would knock her Midou Kou, either, though. Nothing optical could ever quite outclass a tweaked-out, specialized live-ammunition weapon when it came to hunting down players, after all. She did need to upgrade eventually, sure, but the damage output from these two weapons would more than cover her for a bit longer, especially if she continued to rely on the Dual Arms ability to supplement her damage.
With the matter resolved, she swipes downward, closing the menu. Nodding to herself, she turns, setting course for the office and its lobby, now with a subtle bounce to each step. Linking her hands behind her back, she hums quietly as she moves along, her attention going here and there, not remaining anywhere in particular as her boots tap, tap, tap against the cold, polished stone slabs.
Thmp, thmp, thmp.
Where would the bounties take her today, she wonders? Plenty of locales, plenty of players to be hunted, and hopefully, plenty of loot drops from the mobs along the way. She wouldn't pray for gemstones or anything like that, nor a treasure trove of legendary-tier weaponry, but she wouldn't snub her nose at some pricy rares or even a handful of uncommons to cover her ammunition costs at the end of the day, either. Useless for usage, but perfect for quickly making a pretty penny - Trade Value; a wonderfully common curse.
Thmp, thmp, thmp.
"...?" She blinks, withdrawing from her thoughts as she takes note of the continuous footsteps behind her, seemingly carefree and clueless. She picked them up shortly after moving from where she loaded in, didn't she? Were they tailing her? No, probably just her being overly cautious. Maybe it's a newbie? Improbable, they're usually even more cautious and conscientious laced with a few obvious slip-ups here and there, even if they aren't trying to sneak up on someone. A mid-tier… possibly? They don't seem to worry about much, despite still being so meager compared to the higher level players. Still, they'd usually either move faster or slower than her, rather than keeping an even pace like this, so it seems unlikely that it's just a fellow passerby. Angling her head to the side, Kuro peers back…
...And discovers a rather underdressed blonde trompsing after her, her yellow eyes trained directly on Kuro's back. Could she be any more obvious? Her steps are careless, or rather, carefree, matching well with the stock sailor suit bikini she's clad in, paired absurdly with the silly-looking fritz helmet atop her head. That… has to be a guy playing that character. Surely. There isn't any way otherwise.
...Well, whatever. If that's how they get their kicks off, it isn't any of her business. But why are they following her? Another creep? Probably… no, definitely. Just like those two from earlier; idiots that need to find a better hobby. Though, that begs the question of how to go about dealing with this one…
Does she feel like talking with someone so blatant a pervert?
No. Not in the slightest. There are too many monetary predicaments to address before she would even remotely consider idling the time away, and even then, she wouldn't waste her precious time with someone like this. So, that only left the option of losing them entirely.
Maintaining pace for a few moments, Kuro returns her attention to the Glocken ahead of her, quickly calculating the fastest route to the Governor's Office. With a bit of agility, it wouldn't take much to leave this… person… behind, and fortunately for Kuro, agility certainly isn't something she's lacking in.
That spiel about the true meta being strength-vitality builds might hold true for most people, but that only means that they aren't playing on the agility's speed enough. With enough trained accuracy and a reasonably moderate balance in the other stats, specializing mostly into agility could turn a person into the perfect assassin.
And she is nothing if not dedicated to the swift path before her, having remained loyal to her build from the first day. Many posers came and went with that one loser's deceit during the second BoB, but none ever stuck with mastering their newfound speed, and those who struggled with it to begin with grew even more frustrated before most of them decided to conform and reroll.
"...Idiots," she whispers under her breath, her lips curling upward into a knowing smirk. Their loss, not hers, she knows as she kicks off from the pavement into a sprint, leaving the bimbo behind in the dust.
"...Whaaa!" goes the blonde as Kuro speeds away, clearly having been underestimating her. Yes, good luck catching the wind itself, Kuro sneers internally.
And that truly is how it feels, to run as fast as that one famous marathon runner, if not faster. The fact that technology could replicate these senses so wonderfully, so realistically… the way the air nips at her skin, of how it feels rushing through her hair, of how her body heats up ever so slightly, the feeling of each footfall as her legs work in perfect tandem; it's the beauty of being athletically perfect and untouchable without a tenth of the same cons. Stamina? What's that? Sweating up a storm? Nope. Being out of breath, gasping for air while your muscles scream at you? Not here, not her!
Yes… both the blue blur and Shimakaze herself would smile down upon her as she bounds across the Glocken, covering so many kilometers and miles as if it were nothing more than a morning jog, and this was without amplifying it with any tier of her Speed Form! By that point, even the vehicles of this game were nothing - tried and true, she notes smugly, remembering hunting after and outrunning players who thought themselves clever for trying to subvert PvP conflict and any mobs pursuing them atop their bikes and cars. The exclamations of surprise and proclamations of her using some sort of cheats are always amusing enough, if not delicious food for her ego before she shoots out a wheel or rains lead upon their heads.
"...Speed for the win, speed for life," she asserts proudly as she hops onto a railing, digging her feet in to balance herself before kicking off of it, her modest form briefly gliding through the air with elegant ease as her hands confidently clamp down on a ledge a distance above her head. Pulling herself up in a singular swift motion, she vaults over the railing, her feet touching the ground for only a split instant before taking off across the stony expanse whilst paying no heed to the astounded and horrified faces of the other players nearby.
And that is how it went for the next few minutes, as well; having run through the Glocken on numerous occasions, her acrobatics and parkour were more routine than anything else as she closes in on her destination. For her, it served as a decent warmup for her inevitable day of missions in one of the many sandy or infrequently woody expanses that her marks tended to frequent.
"...And it's always those areas," she mutters, contemplating it for but a moment. Never one of the frozen locales, or one of the beachlike regions, or even an urban setting; almost always, people only ever frequent the wide array of deserts and sparse forests. "...People should get some variety," she concludes ironically.
Shooting up the last stretch, an escalator that leads then to a curved incline of road wrapping directly around in a circle at the entrance to the lobby of the office, she slackens her pace to a spirited jog, and then as the honeycomb-styled glass doors finally come into view, a normal walking speed. Overall time wasted on such a jaunt… "Eleven minutes. Tsk, a minute and a half slower than usual."
Clicking her tongue in momentary disdain at the final result, her eyes turn to the doors. Rolling her shoulders, she exhales her frustration and proceeds past a handful of mingling players here and there. Briefly looking them over, no one in particular seems to stand out to her in any way more than the others; in one area is a teal-haired girl who stands with a black-haired male, and in another, an older-seeming, intense man with slicked-back hair and a face framed with his bushy moustache-beard stands with a girl draped in a plain red dress, and a distance from them is some pink-garbed midget and her friend, and over in the courtyard are a bunch of typical military-garbed soldier-types discussing amongst themselves and a shrimp with dark auburn hair, spectacles and some weird black smear across his face, dressed in dark green camo under a black vest. Kuro squints at the last one as he talks to the other military-grade dorks, briefly contemplating the logical explanations behind the dark-colored face paint, but opts instead to simply dismiss it from her mind. To each their own, no matter what they're into, she decides.
And so, with her conviction over the matter set in stone, her feet carry her inside.
The lobby of the Governor's Office is spacious, if not barren. Circular in design, it is open-topped with the sky visible above, framed by more of the same honeycomb-glass that the door is made of, leading down to a spherical chamber. Beams halfway down the walls conjoin in the center, forming an inner circle built to support four curved projection-screens that continuously display important announcements and information; the Governor's proclamations, event announcements or important game updates are often the most notable to see scrolling by here. Beneath it stand four AI-controlled girls upon a small circle that lifts above the rest of the room's floor, supported by a crossroads of sorts. Outside of this small intersection is the rest of the lobby - or rather, the important part, in Kuro's opinion - containing various kiosks, interface panels, seating areas and counters manned by computer characters for players to utilize as necessary for most of their needs. Across the rest of the open space are a myriad of fellow users, mingling and dealing; their clamor filling the air as a noisy chorus.
Doing her best to ignore and drown out the disjointed buzz, Kuro sets a brisk pace for the quest terminals on the far side of the chamber as she rounds the outer circle, opting to hug the wall where possible to avoid any further unnecessary contact with the people present. While many players here may be prospective clients, they run just as high of a risk of being would-be courters or simply nuisances intent on annoying those around them. Children; even with age restrictions, they somehow always seem to slip through, albeit generally temporarily.
"Whoa, dude! That's a rare sniper, isn't it?! Where'd ya' get it?!"
"Heh. It's nothing special. I just happened by it while doing a quest in one of the dungeons; killed some pathetic boss and it dropped. Nothing to it when you get as good as me."
"Hrm… the stats on your shotgun need tweaking. If you swapped out the ammo cap and reload, you'd be able to add in some bonuses against humanoids and mechs."
"Wh… Did the guide change already?! Damn it! It said that these types of shotguns would benefit from ammo and reload buffs better than just focusing on damage perks, man! WTF, seriously!"
"Didja' hear, dood? There's gunna' be a new area soon, somethin' 'boutta ruined city or somethin' like dat."
"Oh hell yeah, ya' got a link to wherever ya' heard it? I wanna' learn more so we can gank the noobs that first check it out."
"Dude, my girlfriend is so cute. She's wearing the new combat suit, 'n…"
"Ahhh… the close-fitting one? Daaaamn, dude…"
"She was a he all along, bro! Bro! A he! I ERP'd with a GUY!"
"Whoaaaaaa. Ya' gay now or somethin'? Gettaway, I don't wanna' catch the gay!"
"Like, omigosh! Did you SEE Itsuki today?! He's so perfect!"
"Like, I know! He's, like, so dreamy! Do you think, like, we'll, like, go on a date with him again?!"
A normal day at the lobby it seems, Kuro gathers as she slips behind most of the various groups. Nothing particularly interesting, apart from that consistent, ever-changing rumor about a new area, though the news changes every time and the sources are never consistent with one another. Undue hype, probably, and nothing more. Not that they need another region yet - the smidgen of detail about these upcoming 'Forlorn Mountains' is already enough to have people more than invested once the official release for the area drops. From what she remembers, only a few select groups get access to it right now, and Zaskar has kept it hush-hush, even for involved parties.
Arriving at the line of terminals divided by small, thin walls built for privacy for each user, Kuro steps into one of the unoccupied spots, tapping on the console's surface. It lights up, briefly recognizing her user data before opening up to various categories of quests, segregated and organized by type; general missions such as hunting mobs, missions geared toward hunting down named mobs that are slightly more difficult than the average, treasure-hunting missions for retrieving specific items requested for delivery to both various NPCs as well as other players, and finally, the hunting category for tracking down and exterminating other players out in the field in swift, cutthroat PvP… or rather, her category.
Sure, there are other players that also focus specifically on the PvP quests, and she even knows of a few of them by name, but she stands by the belief that when it comes to clean, professional PK, it is by her hands that the task is completed. Sure, the designated PvP sniper-types are 'better' at it in that they don't need to get their hands dirty or risk their lives, but if you're sending a message to someone that they really pissed you off, it's nonsensically pointless compared to getting in their face to gun them down flawlessly, and that is exactly her forte. As such, she knows she has something of a reputation for it, and often sees her own name in the lists for being hunted down - though, this has remained impossible due to both her skill and, secondly, her ability to avoid an unwinnable conflict - amidst the myriad of requests to wipe out other players and their friends.
And yet, to her surprise, the amount of posted requests today is… strikingly, abysmally, horribly, infinitely terribly low. A pathetic amount, most for pittances. If one could quantify the total sum for hunting the minimal array of players today, it might not even scratch one hundred thousand… which is insulting, more than anything.
If she took into account the expenses for ammunition spent and for the time wasted, it wouldn't be worth much at all. She could better spend her time grinding bosses or just mucking about with enemies in the field at that amount, especially since even the current top 100 accumulated player bounties are either still out of her league due to level, online availability, or on cooldown from already being tracked down. She clicks her tongue, muttering a curse under her breath unintentionally as her hand clenches tightly into a fist.
Why were they so low? There has been a slow decline overall, sure, but not quite so pitiful as this. What was the reason for it? There hasn't been any notable news about a player drop, nor has an event come up that should ultimately detract people from having grudges against one another… or is it because there's a lull?
"...No, people hate each other regardless of new content. Are they just too poor…?" Kuro murmurs aloud, her gaze pensive as her scarlet eyes bore a hole through the electronic panel in a valiant attempt to discern the true reasoning behind its miniscule arrangement of PvP quests… but it yields nothing.
Ding.
The screen displays a yellow exclamation mark icon, flashing the words 'Updating, Please Wait…' for a few moments before the list refreshes… with a new quest-!
Ding.
As soon as the quest appears, it disappears at once, leaving the silvery-white-haired girl dumbfounded. Just… what? Why? How? Why did it… No, Kuro pauses her confusion, considering the situation with a touch of skepticism. After all, even if a hasty PvPer accepted the quest instantaneously, it wouldn't delete the quest until the target met an unfortunate end, and there is at least a few minute delay after posting a quest that the poster cannot delete it or post another one - an intentional mechanic to prevent trolls spam-posting to annoy fellow players. And even if they died, some tangible evidence of sorts has to be submitted to the poster to reap the reward. So, could it be a bug or server lag…?
"...No," she shakes her head, her expression mirroring her perplexed thoughts. Folding her arms before her, she grips at herself while grimacing. It just doesn't make a lick of sense, and it frustrates her more than usual due to not being able to even review the details of the quest. What if it had been a lucrative opportunity? Or a worthwhile fight? Hell, even an intentional ambush contains room for profit if the would-be assailants had moderate accumulated bounties.
No, something had to be wrong, someone is doing something behind the scenes. She knew that much, after having played the game this long. Some angry child or some sketchy would-be profiteer, maybe. A sometimes-recurring issue, requiring Zaskar to eventually patch the loophole the troublemaker used. Either way, it is decidedly inconveniencing her, and is now cutting into her ability to make a living. Whoever it is, is blatant trash that she vows to hunt down at some point or another, swearing absolute vengeance in her great book of grudges.
"...Okay, first… there, an open ticket…," or so she thinks, but she watches that vanish just as quickly as the quest did, leaving her with a blank gaze and a twitching eye.
Whoever it was, they apparently knew that she knew. They were watching, somehow or from somewhere. Unfortunate, and problematic. Are they going to continue plaguing her, or is this just a precaution to prevent the news from spreading? A question of whether it's personal or her just being collateral. It's dangerous either way, but remains far out of her realm of solving, especially if they're able to so easily delete even a private ticket to Zaskar.
"...Doubly annoying when Zaskar has no other alternate ways to speak to them… Tsk," she complains under her breath again, emitting a fatigue-ridden sigh. So, her quest-income has been cut to the bare minimums due to some outside intervention, she can't lodge a proper complaint for it due to the prior reason, and her dues are coming up due to her own laziness; an overall poor situation to be stuck in, and one that she has no solution to.
Being a stripper's out, she doesn't have the figure for it. Is that foot fetish kick still going around…? No, she wouldn't know where to sign up in the first place, nor does she feel comfortable with doing it, even short-term. She sighs again. Things look bleak, and to apply for a real-world job and get paid within the week would be rather unlikely if not impossible; she's not some magical anime character with a protagonist aura, after all. So… crime? No, wait, that's a terrible idea. Though, she could go back to account-flipping for the week…
...No, there's no time, and that depends on there being buyers using legal, safe money for the transaction. Another, deeper, frustrated sigh, laced with a mixture of despair, disdain for humanity, and destitution.
"...There's no use crying about it," her words are soft, a forced attempt at knocking herself out of the sudden rutt, "so, maybe I'll luck out on looting some diamonds or emeralds, then."
Yes, she nods, raising her head. Giving up so early into the final week would only solidify the end. If she cuts down further on her sleep, and powers through the hunger pains for a day or five or ten, she might be able to dig herself out of the inevitable poverty hole she's in. It isn't like there's any other readily available option right now, anyway.
"...Alright. I might as well get to it, then," her spirit urges, her voice picking up again after the brief lull. Taking a moment to sign out of the terminal, she pivots on her heel, centering her gaze on the doors. "...Tch. To hell with the roundabout," she decides, setting forth straight through the room, pushing past multiple groups despite their sudden protests, continuing only ahead to the glass doors and then beyond, back out into the lengthy Glocken expanse.
Where was the best place to farm for high-price materials that wouldn't cut too deeply into her credits? Or, wait, did she have one of those absurd photon swords? She could minimize her ammunition costs entirely if she learned how to use one of those…
"Ah, excuse me, little lady…"
But they just seem so nonsensical. Who brings a sword to a gunfight, anyway? It isn't like there's… no, wait, there's the rumors about that one weirdo on this game that does…
"...Miss, if you have a moment, could you just…"
No. She has her pride. Being a swordsman after all this time would leave her vulnerable to being picked off by other players, and she wouldn't besmirch her ghost-like reputation over minimizing minimal costs. Maybe, she could just use one of the spare guns in her inventory with an ammo acquired buff…
Clmp. A firm hand sets itself on her shoulder, causing Kuro to jolt much like a startled cat, her head whipping around to the side as her brow furrows. "Get your hands off…!"
"...Huh?" She stops mid-exclamation, taking notice of the person's attire. Dressed down fully in a dark brown trench coat paired with that accompanying fancy hat that just seems to complement it so well, a man who looks to be well on in his years - or at least aged, rather, since Kuro doesn't make a habit of speaking to older… well, people in general, really - based on the barely-visible graying streaks decorating his brownish-colored hair. His face, or the parts that the hat isn't doing a good job at masking, looks a bit wrinkly, and in return, she wrinkles her nose. "...Look. If you're looking for a sugar baby, old man, you're in the wrong place…"
"No, you're not my type anyway, squirt," he answers, his lips curling upward in a mildly-gross-seeming manner. "Need more meat on your bones, fill out a bit more instead of being a string bean, y'get me? Anyway, that isn't important right now, see…"
"I'm not interested in any pyramid schemes, or Ponzi schemes, or anything else, pal. Stick your 'Get Rich Quick' spiel somewhere that the sun won't shine, old-timer," she cuts him off, more than ruffled by his statement and, more importantly, his invasion of her personal space. "And, just so you know, flat is a status symbol, dickhead."
He snorts, chuckling softly as he shakes his head as if she were a brilliant comedian. "Pff… that what you kids nowadays think? You're being delusional, little missy. But, ya' know, that isn't the point, so just lemme'..."
"It is the point, you geriatric patient on parole. If you're going to talk like that, I don't want to hear the end of your shtick. And what's with that get-up, anyway? Are you cosplaying the Mysterious Stranger, or something? Or… oh, wait, no, that's too new for you. I'm sorry. Noir films, I think, right?"
More laughter flows freely from the man, further irritating Kuro. Lifting his free hand, he places it on his face somewhere under his hat, presumably to rub his temples or something. Why couldn't it be the hand on her shoulder, and why isn't he letting go? "Alright, alright, ya' had your little tantrum, now. I get it, I was your age once, too, sport. Now, let the grown-up speak, would ya'?"
"...Ghhhhh…," she inhales sharply, swallowing her anger as she nods slowly. "Fine. Get it over with."
He shrugs, seeming disinterested suddenly. Dropping the hand on his face to his chin, he rubs it thoughtfully. "Well, I dunno'. With how you're actin', I don't think ya'd appreciate the opportunity to make some money, anyway. Maybe I'll take my offer else…"
Wait a minute. "Hold on," she says abruptly, narrowing her eyes. "Money? Start talking, you have my interest now." So he is after enlisting her cooperation in a scheme, but, for some reason… No, it's not even worth beating around the bush. She shouldn't brush him or anyone else off so easily right now. She has to face it, she's poor. An offer of payment is worth hearing out, no matter where it comes from. She can't be picky, after all.
He grins, and she can tell he raises an eyebrow. "Ah… reacting like that… ya' sure you're not a prospective gold digger, little missy?" He chuckles again as her gaze grows icy, waving it away dismissively. "Now, now, no need to get your panties in a twist. Just havin' some light fun."
"Waste anymore of either of our time, and I'll tell you where you can shove that fun," she growls again, though he continues to seem completely unfazed by it. In fact, it feels like she's dealing with her dad again, which irks every fiber of her being. Why are older men always like this?
Suddenly, he points to a spot a short distance from them while moving in close, his voice dropping into a hushed tone. "Follow me so we can talk business, kiddo. And don't worry, it's your favorite hobby, anyway."
Favorite hobby…? Wait, could he mean…?
Matching his volume at once, she nods as her expression stiffens. "...Sure, alright. If you were a prospective business client, you should've said so from the get-go," she states, sighing. "My time is precious and my fees are steep for personal requests, though, old-timer. Don't expect to lowball me." A bluff, now, more than anything, but one that tends to work at upping the reward just a bit more.
He snorts, shaking his head as the two begin walking. "Yeah, yeah. Like you're getting any work right now, missy. I already know… but don't worry. We'll pay you more than you could ever make off the normal bounties."
"...Pardon?" I already know? "How do you know what I'm makin…"
"Just walk. I'll tell you once we're out of earshot of other parties."
"...Alright, fine."
The man hums as the two proceed down the curving road, making a sharp turn down a ramp leading to a small space underneath the courtyard adjacent to the Governor's Office, shrouded by the shade that the concrete and stone overhead provides. Moving to one of the corners, the man smiles, taking a single step back before bowing… rather perfectly, she notes. How impressive. And annoying.
Lifting his head as he finishes his formal gesture, he nods to her. "So, let's cut to the chase. Bounty Hunter Kuro, the Merchants of Menace extend their personal greetings… and an offer that ya' surely won't want to refuse. For a meager service of doing what you do, you'll be compensated well for your time. Maybe even enough to mitigate some of your increasing financial troubles for a while, eh?"
She freezes, a chill running down her spine. How does he know about her situation, or perhaps, more importantly… what did he say? The 'Merchants of Menace'? That one's a new name for a guild… no, wait, they're squadrons here, aren't they? Still, she hasn't ever heard of a name like that, and for them to know about her personal details…
"How…"
The man quickly raises a hand, catching her attention while cutting her off, his tone gaining an edge of serious professionalism. "Hold up on the questions you've no doubt got, squirt. I won't be able to answer 'em here. Are ya' going to accept our invitation, or… eh… not?" She grits her teeth as he finishes his question, knowing well that both parties understand her situation. It's sugarcoating an option of free will, painting a nice picture that she has a choice; a false reality. If they know her finances, and about her services, about the bounty hunting quests themselves, and likely then some…
...Yes, her gut tells her that this guy's connected to that bounty incident a little bit ago. These… Merchants of Menace, he calls them, have her in checkmate on this from stage one. Tsk, it seems she might've caught the eye of someone troublesome… again.
"...Fine. I accept. Where are we going?" she responds, tightening her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She needs answers, first and foremost.
The man, even in the dark, clearly smiles. "Good, good. It's been a pleasure meeting you, little missy," he says, bobbing his head. Pivoting on his heel, he makes a motion with his hand as he starts toward the ramp. "Come on then. Let's take a walk, you and me. I think you'll like where we're goin'."
"...Yeah? We'll see," she responds, hesitantly complying. Tagging along after him, he leads her up the ramp once more and to the left, proceeding down one of the many roads stretching across the Glocken's surface. Her eyes flick here and there as they walk, curious as to whether there might be an obvious destination or someone watching them, but she finds neither. Instead, they just keep heading forward, his boots making casual thump, thump, thumps in contrast to her catlike tap, tap, tap, taps, as though his mere presence isn't suspicious or eye-catching in the slightest. She briefly wonders if he's sane, or even human at all. An AI, possibly?
"...Hey, old guy," she starts slowly, pursing her lips. Would he even admit to it? His head leans back a minute amount, affirming his listening. Swallowing her doubts, she continues with her curiosity, "...Are you some sort of AI?"
His footsteps stop, and he stumbles for an instant. His boot slams down against the pavement as his posture stiffens, hurriedly righting himself as his head whirls around to face her, and now, an eye is visible; a blue, dumbfounded, skeptical eye that sternly gazes on her. "Haaaah? Now where the hell would ya' get that thought from, missy? Do ya' think all of your elders are robots?"
She stops, frowning. "...Not all, but you are work drones, after all."
The cerulean eye rolls. "And you're a bum killin' whichever market's currently suffering while whining about this and that. Doesn't mean I think you're a robot, so why would ya' think I am?"
All Kuro manages is an awkward shrug. She hates dealing with these sorts of people. "...Just a passing thought. No need to get so touchy. Sheesh."
The man mutters something under his breath, sighing. He turns his head back around, offering her his back as he starts walking again while a hand raises to his face. "...No, though. I'm no robot, to answer your question. Alive and breathin', like you."
Scratching at her cheek absentmindedly, Kuro bobs her head and follows once more. "...Sure. Sooo… Where are we going?"
"A place."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"Yes."
"...We are?!" she exclaims in surprise, gazing around their surroundings curiously. Where is the destination? They're in the middle of a suspended road with nothing on either side, so… Wait a minute…
"...Are you messing with me, old man?"
"Are ya' done asking stupid questions?"
"If it weren't for the safezone, I'd so show you a 'stupid question'."
"Ya' already showed me like, thirty. What would one more dumb question do?"
"I hate you."
"Pfff. Good, now keep movin'. We're almost there; my partners were supposed to be further up the road, but apparently we mighta' moved a bit faster than expected."
"Partners?" She raises an eyebrow at this word. Sure, obviously, 'Merchants' is plural, but she certainly found the prospect of someone working in continued proximity to this man slim. "...Are you sure they're not imaginary?"
"As sure as I am of your lack of any remote amount of a chest, kiddo."
Kuro's eye twitches at this, instinctively moving her hands to cover herself while shooting him another glare, though he brushes it off easily as the two settle into another silence. Vowing more and more to fill this man full of bullets in unpleasant places as soon as the opportunity presents itself, Kuro decides that the silence is far preferable anyway, and the trek forward continues.
It's only after another mile or so that Kuro notices what looks like an old pickup sitting by itself on the road. Perplexed, she counts two people sitting in its truck bed doing something together. Is it some American roleplay scenario, or something? Why are they just idling there?
"Ah, there they are," the man says with a tone of satisfaction in his voice, breaking the silence after however long it's been. Kuro's eyes narrow, her lips forming an unamused line as she discovers within herself very little surprise at these people being the ones. More weirdos is what it means, for sure. "Now, ya' still with me, girlie?"
"Of course I am. This better have not been an elaborate trick to waste my time," she responds, crossing her arms while squinting at the truck. What were they doing? It looks like they're playing with something, but…
"Ah, don't worry. If it were gonna' be that, I'd of brought you in the exact opposite direction. Nah, this'll be our ride for the rest of the trip, and they're some of my fellow associates. Say hello and leave a better impression on them than ya' did with me, alright, kiddo?"
"What're you even saying? I'm always on my best behavior."
"...Standards really keep dropping, huh."
"Shove it."
Closing the rest of the jaunt with more of the same sort of bickering, the vehicle does indeed turn out to be a pickup truck with two individuals in the back of it, playing poker together. The one on the left, a man seemingly, is dressed like some sort of thug-like bandit in nothing but black; a worn and slightly beat-up trench coat with a built-in hood and mask covering most of his face, casual jeans, a plain belt, a ribbed tee, and combat boots to complete it. Truly, an assassin of the modern age, really, and certainly someone she wouldn't want to meet in the middle of the night. The other…
"...Ah," Kuro recognizes the figure at once, her expression even less amused than before.
"...Ooh! Hey! You're back!" chirps the blonde from before, a warm smile on her face as she waves excessively in greeting. Still wearing the absurd outfit from before, she looks even more out of place next to the man, and even then some given the way they're sitting casually in the back of a pickup truck set on a road within a warship from space in a post-apocalyptic setting about shooting things and giant mechanical monsters. No, really, there are so many clashing things about the entire ensemble that Kuro's desire to log off and immediately go to sleep intensifies by a thousand.
"So, who's winnin'?" asks the man as he climbs into the driver seat of the truck, the familiar sound of the vehicle starting following shortly thereafter.
"Who'ja think? Def'nitely not 'er. Sya' got tha' girl, I see. She joinin'?" the bandit-man replies, his attention shifting to Kuro as he studies her from bottom to top. "N'much'a looker, eh?"
"Ah, good. More losers. I see why they're your 'associates' now, old man. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that," Kuro interjects pointedly, her venomously icy disposition toward these Merchants deepening further. Turning her attention to the girl while ignoring whatever response the bandit-thug has, she motions at her to gather the blonde's attention. "Were you trying to solicit me like the guy was, then?"
A nonchalant shrug. "I was gonna' be the first wave, but then ya' took off like some sorta' rabbit running from a cat or something. Really surprised me, but it looks like it worked out! So, are ya' joining us or just standin' there like some sorta' loner?" the girl inquires, tilting her head.
"...So you're actually not a man in disguise. What a strange surprise…," she mutters, wondering what other expectations of hers would be turned upside down today. Looking at the truck for a moment, she sighs, rubbing her arms. "Am I riding in the front or with you two?"
"In the front, probably. Don't want you falling out and splatting the pavement, would probably be a bit of a hassle," the older man replies. An arm emerges from the truck, motioning probably at her. "Hurry up and get in, we're burnin' daylight. You two, put away your cards so they don't blow away."
"Arright." "'Kay!"
"...Haah." Resigning herself to her fate, she closes the rest of the distance to the truck, walking around to the right side… before a hand holding a card abruptly shoves itself in front of her face. "Wh…?!" Jerking her head up, the blonde seems intent on giving her the stupid playing card. "Why?" she asks, somewhat annoyed.
"Take it."
"...Ghhh. Fine!" Snatching it from the girl's hand, she holds it up in front of her own face, seeing a generic Ten of Clubs card. "Great, wonderful, fantastic. Thanks."
"...Mm."
"C'mon, already."
"God damn it," she hisses, angrily tugging the door open while throwing herself into the seat. Slamming the metal shut, she twists her head to the side, glaring daggers at the man. "There. I'm in. Are you happy, you grouchy pain in the ass?"
He laughs, shrugging. "Not in the slightest, I need my tunes and I'd of preferred a real woman, but I've got my job to do. Ya' wanna' put on your seatbelt?"
"Screw your seat belts. Drive."
Shaking his head gently, his hand moves down to press a button on the center panel, and at once, loud rock from a few decades back blasts from the speakers as the car rolls forward. Within mere seconds, they're speeding down the road as the two in the back holler back and forth, raising their voices even louder over the already blaring music.
Rolling her head back while shoving it irritably into the headrest, Kuro twirls the card in her hand while doing her best to tolerate the hellhole she's found herself in. She's sure that somehow, even this, has some sort of purpose, for whatever the hell it'll be for. And that hunch alone unsettles her with a sense of wariness. Just who are these guys, and why has she been singled out to be involved with them?
So many questions, so much illogical crap out of nowhere, on a week where every second matters. She finds herself hoping beyond hope that, at the end of this hellish car ride from nostalgia hell, she might get at least a couple answers to what the hell is going on… and whether or not she'll be compensated appropriately for the trauma these people are causing her.
"...The Merchants… of Menace. Huh."
Aaaand, that's that! So, with that said; whaddya' think?
For some history behind the story, it kicked up after the group of great friends I'm in has gotten hot and heavy into Fatal Bullet. Being a really fun little game, I've written some random fluff for it on and off that has yet to see the light of day here, but I've stuck with this one with a good bit of direction and help from my pals, and, well, here we are! I'm going to keep with this and see it go places, so I hope you'll join us on this little journey I'm crafting!
And I should probably throw down some sorta' apology or warning or something, since, well... this is my first post in... what, nearly a year? I think I'm getting back into the groove with it, though, so stay tuned and we'll see if I improve and whatnot!
Regardless, this is fun, and I wish you all a good day. Stay tuned for more Tainted posts in the coming days and weeks; I'm making a valiant effort at keeping at it!
Tainted out!~