The Sprawl

For a quick author's note; the series of events in this is supposed to be going on around the same time as Neon & Chrome-and they're kinda-sorta a little similar in a way on purpose. Wanted to sorta tell two stories of a couple of chummers drinking-just in slightly different situations.

At least the alcohol was real. I suppose this is as close to 'slice of life' as you can get for a cyberpunk world?
--
Looking at himself in the cracked mirror, Downfall exhaled deeply as he spat blood into the sink; it landed bright against the dirty white porcelain. Checking the rest of his face, he only had a thin cut; this likely wouldn't even leave a scar. He had a couple already, indeed. In the dim light, his dark-ringed eyes-he had a penchant for black eyeliner almost all the time when he was out-red tinged lips, and pale skin made him look like something out of a horror movie. He pushed back some of his long, black hair and tucked it behind his ears as he examined himself.

That last hilt-punch had managed to get him to bite his tongue pretty well, though he wasn't too concerned as he was a rather quick healer. Washing more of the blood off of his chest, he examined the other wounds he had gotten, though most of the blood was his opponent's.

He was currently at the Torque-a very seedy underground place which blared punk music and had the 'theme' of various cars and the like-this also gave it perhaps the visage of a chop shop...which is exactly what the owners wanted. Granted, Redmond was largely ignored by Lone Star and other law enforcement until they were forced in, but this joint was close enough to the border of the Renton district that occasionally people would poke around to make sure things weren't getting too out of hand.

What Torque actually was-only on Wednesdays and Fridays-was a bloodsport pit, letting people fight each other-sometimes to the death-for money, and to let other seedy individuals bet on them.

Not every fight was to the death; granted, broken limbs and maiming were incredibly common, but they would make sure to put up one or two grand events every couple of weeks since they did tend to bring in the most money.

Downfall was a favorite. Standing over seven and a half feet tall, he could look some of the trolls he fought in the eye and towered over most of his opponents. The huge elf was a contrast in appearance; he was one hell of a prettyboy, though he was also sporting scars-especially on his torso, but a few on his face, along with his trademark half-ragged ear. Sliced halfway off in a fight one night, in a rage he spat and tore it the rest of the way off rather than give his opponent the satisfaction. 

The ferocity stunned his opponent, who subsequently had his face kicked in. 

The cogs, screws, and bolts on his clothing gave him his rivethead flair, also doubling as extra pain when he would strike someone.

Checking more of his wounds in the mirror, the fluorescent lights buzzed in the background. They were not terrible; a few slashes. His opponent could have given him much, much worse. He adjusted the leather collar around his neck; a custom piece, thick, dotted with metal spikes and a large bolt in the front. While wearing a collar in the ring may seem dangerous, it added some protection for his neck. It was not thick enough to act as a gorget, though the heavy leather and metal could deflect wayward blows and make him difficult to grapple...for the few who were able to. 

The man had gone by the rather stereotypical ringname of the Butcher; it was actually a testament to how long he had been fighting. A human-somewhere in the six-footer range he had been heavily built and tattooed, with strange patches shaved into his short hair, though he had one long, thin braid coming down the side. As his name would hint, his chosen weapons were knives; his trademark was dual-wielding a Cougar Fineblade along with an honest-to-ghost enormous butcher knife, which Downfall now had by the sink next to him. A trophy, if you will. Before tonight, he had racked up a frightening kill count, and truth be told, many people of Redmond would sleep easier tonight, as there were more-than-rumors that he was a murderer besides. He had apparently just fought here for extra 'fun'.

Downfall was not a crazed killer; instead, he used this as a way to both earn nuyen and perhaps clean up a few of the most undesirable types in the sprawl. He could tell the people fighting here out of desperation, the people fighting for profit-and those who came to kill for thrills; he had very little problem smashing in the heads of the latter. Tonight he had scored rather big, given the speed of the kill and the notoriety of his opponent. He wasn't sure how to treat himself yet...after his payments were handled, that was. 

It was only a few hits; Downfall's overwhelming strength and training did the work-having trained in Tae Kwon Do since he was barely ten, and other martial arts for around a decade, this combined with his adept powers-which were perfectly legal to use in the pits-turned turn him into a near unstoppable force. He took a few hits, though eventually a single kick landed which knocked Butcher to his knees. A swift overhead axe kick planted his laced skull into the concrete and split it wide open; the bone lacing did little against his force.

He had walked off to to the crowd going mad, catching the certified credstick his 'manager'-for lack of a better term-tossed to him, and headed off to get cleaned. He was not one particularly to bask in the crowd. To him, it was sort of a job, but he did take a little satisfaction in braining this one, as he did have an undeniable bloodthirsty streak. The 'janitors'-an older Chinese man and a younger ork-had proceeded to attempt to clean up the remains.

A voice behind him coughed, shaking him out of his thoughts. He whirled around, taking a brief fighting stance...when he was it was Talon, his teammate. The heavily cybered elf smirked at him.

“Nice show,” he said. Talon was a bit...messed up due to various circumstances, though he was not completely insane, thankfully. “Ought to pay for a month of that fancy dig ya got.”

“With some leftover,” Downfall replied, turning back around. “You're one to talk with that new place you got in the center.”

“Eh, that last job paid well. Also I'm glad you decided to not kick my head in too for sneaking up.”

He snorted laughter and finished washing up. Grabbing one of the old towels, he wiped his massive boots clean. Designed specially sized for him, weighing more than any piece of clothing should have a right to, reaching halfway to his knees and having a very gothic-industrial design with buckles, metal plates, an occasional spike and some bolts studding the toe and heel, they suited his Tae Kwon Do specialty rather perfectly. He had them more made for style and fashion-they have the perfect sort of appearance he liked-they just happened to compliment his fighting style. 

They were also drek to clean afterward.

Standing, he threw his tank top back on and grabbed his longcoat-it was early fall, and Seattle could be chilly at night-and started to walk out.

“Wanna see the place?” Talon asked.

He shrugged. “You got alcohol? Smashing killers' heads makes me thirsty.”

“What do you think?” Talon smirked. He was one of the few people who appreciated the other elf's gallows humor.

“Better not be soy drek.”

"Frag off," Talon glowered, lighting a smoke and handing one to Downfall, who snatched it. Heading through the underground hallways, the two went up several flights of stairs until they got to the lower dance floor of the place...insomuch as it was a dance floor. Another level up, and they were outside. The underground pit was literally that, and it was quite difficult to find if you weren't looking-or even if you were, as there were a lot of doors going other places, and they locked behind them.

Generally speaking-runners did not spend much time at one anothers' places, save for team safehouses, but these two were closer than normal team-mates, or grew that way over time. They had a fairly implicit trust, and both knew that if one broke it they would probably end up beating each other to death anyway.

“In that one high-rise wasn't it?”

“Yup. By the way, I'm Kei and I'm going on tour for a few days in a couple of weeks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess...”

“We both know those ritzy places require some...more info.”

“Didn't think it was that ritzy.”

“Top floors are. Place is downtown so its a little more particular. I'm an elf who looks like a musician so I didn't have a problem.”

“Yeah, I'll try to remember. What do you do while you're on 'tour?'”

“Safehouse. Or well maybe I could borrow that mattress of yours.”

Downfall snorted; though it would be a good idea to keep the safehouses more as emergency spaces. “We'll see what sorta mood I'm in.”

They walked in silence for some time before Talon looked over again. He was shorter than Downfall, though still several inches taller than the average elf or ork-he blew a stream of smoke out. “You got that knife?”

He smirked. “Yep.”

“Nice.”

He shrugged. “S'prised you don't do it more often.”

“No challenge,” Talon replied. “Then again I don't see how they challenge you, either.” Talon was heavily cybered-two heavily modified legs, an arm, eyes, and the meat left on his body was enhanced with muscle augmentation and the bones laced to try to put it on par with the rest of his metal. Jolt liked to occasionally joke that if you stuck a paperclip in him he'd be in trouble, though he tried to do it out of Talon's earshot. Not that Talon would harm the young decker-he was actually very loyal to his team-though keeping up the threatening appearance helped.

“Some of them are pretty good. Specially the real killers. Chummer today was a real piece of work.”

Talon scratched his shaggy hair; it reached nearly to his shoulders and had at least three colors in it-black, blue, and purple. “Heard he was responsible for that last killing.” Lone Star had come across two brothers and their uncle-two humans and an ork-rather brutally murdered; they were a blue-collar dockworker family on the outskirts of Renton, and thus this killing had actually made waves with some of the others, forcing Lone Star to actually investigate. 

Nodding, Downfall cracked his knuckles as he walked. "S'pose I did a service. Hope the Sinners don't mind." He chuckled. Nocturnal Sin was a vigilante gang whom had a member-an elf-who actively liked going after the killers. Downfall happened to have a friendly rivalry with him, as he was one of the few people who shared Downfall's ability to arm-wrestle trolls. Spanky had connected them on a few jobs. 

“Tube?”

“Yeah. Don't feel like splashing for air transport today.”

The tube was cheap and easy to get to downtown with; it could be seedy at night, but no one was insane enough to try to pick a fight with two elves who looked like they did. They simply stood by the door, leaning against one of the walls, riding in silence. The tube was fairly busy, as it was around ten pm on a Friday; it was packed people in various states of dress about to head out. Most of them looking a bit more on the lower to middle class side; synth-leathers, spiked hair, clearly heading to the center, possibly toward the Inferno. The nicer looking people they saw they pegged for Penumbra. 

Seemingly ending as soon as it started, they made their way out and up, passing by people who mostly ignored them, though sometimes stared; Downfall in particular could get a lot of looks. People were used to coming up to the chests of trolls, not elves. 

Downtown was crowded with buildings of all sizes-from massive, five hundred meter tall skyscrapers to smaller stores, though the smell of vehicles and various food stalls mingled in the air. It wasn't raining for once, and the night was even clear, but due to the light pollution of thousands of buildings and a lot of neon it was difficult to actually experience it.

Reaching the building, they head inside; there was no doorman down here. It was a general receptionist who simply nodded; credsticks handled everything up to the top floors, where there was security. The first half was nothing special in terms of apartments, and thus the building saved money by simply putting a few where they were most needed.

“This place was a find,” Downfall said, scratching his hair. He wore a bit of an undershave, though most of it went past his shoulders. Peeking into the astral for a moment as they got on the elevator, he could see the magical security was fairly minimal, but he could not see beyond a certain point, telling him they likely had some sort of heavy protections set up on the higher-class floors.

Getting to his heavily maglocked apartment, Downfall saw Talon picked a good one. A window view, and one with a large and nondescript front room; he knew, somewhere off to the side, was likely a much more secure room with all of his weaponry. It was a clever place to live; most people kept to themselves, and robbery was difficult as there was only one real viable way in, unless someone wanted to take a chance clinging to the side of a building where they were over three hundred meters into the air.

He walked over to look over at the city. The Renraku Archaeology-all nine hundred meters of it-stifled the landscape off to the east; it looked much closer than it was due to its staggering size. The building he was in was huge-probably nearly the size of New York's Empire State Building-but the Archaeology dwarfed it. Across the way was the looming Aztechnology pyramid. The logo lit up on the side, it was further away, and very well protected all around it for blocks and blocks, which is what the corp actually owned. They even operated within their own laws within that area. The pyramid itself easily took up several blocks itself at the base. Way near Lake Washington there were six sleek, black-and silver skyscrapers that were the holdings of Mitsuhama. 

Talon walked up next to him and handed him a glass; he could smell the thankfully real whiskey. He took a sip, the stiff liquid burning his tongue where he bit it this night, but it tasted heavenly. From up here, the sprawl looked like it went on forever, but the massive corporate buildings besides Aztechnology and the Renraku pyramid almost made them feel even smaller.

“You like it up high I guess?” His own loft was about ten stories up in a factory district of Tacoma. A rather nice huge converted loft; what he didn't have in city comforts he had in space for the same price.

“You know it. I'll go out on the balcony or even the roof. Dunno why. Always have.”

“Why didn't you move to the Archaeology? That place is twice the height of this.”

He shook his head. “Too stifling in there. Too many people together. Don't want to live with Renraku breathing up my ass.” He opened the balcony door. The wind was extreme this high up, but there were was plexiglass all around the place for safety purposes sitting on the plascrete wall. Downfall lit a cigarette before he stepped out.

He was right; the Renraku building was floor upon floor of mostly inside life; malls taking up some floors, corporate holdings others, and residential areas even more. A select few did get window apartments-but these lacked balconies and they tended to go to more chosen people. Most likely, people living inside would have very little in the way of natural light or air.

“What's tomorrow?” Talon asked, drinking a gulp of the whiskey.

“Working the Machine.” In his spare time-perhaps two or three times per month, depending-he bounced at a Gothic-industrial club called the Black Machine, which played some of his favorite music and used to be one of his most common hangouts. He got to know the owner, Mr. Steve, a dwarf who was quite the club entrepreneur, and he had also his ear to the ground. In return for bouncing once in awhile-Downfall didn't even have to change his usual style of dress-Mr. Steve gave him a small sum and also kept him in the know with some street tips he may have heard of. Downfall suspected he may have also been a Johnson, but he said nothing, as one would do.

It was a useful working relationship, to say the least.

“What would your snooty brethren say about you working as a bouncer?”

Downfall snorted. “Who knows.”

“What was it like there?”

“Tir?”

“Yeah, I've only been through it. Speak a tiny bit of the language.”

“I'm still a citizen. Can come and go if I please. Truth be told it was boring, even for a minor noble family. Just a lot of ritzy business drek. I'd have been a bodyguard there anyway most like.” Downfall also spoke Sperethiel, the Elven language, like he did English. It was useful in their dealings.

“Guess you're good here now.”

“Yeah. Money's good. I like big cities. I don't get paid to jump in front of bullets, I only do it by choice, now.” He chuckled and looked out over the city again; high up, everything was tiny, though occasionally an air transport would buzz by, usually flying from or two one of the more expensive places like Bellevue and to one of the corporate holdings or occasionally a ritzy restaurant. Air travel usually cost about a hundred nuyen a trip, and while he could afford it from time to time, there were other things he'd much rather spend money on. He knew Silver made use of them quite often. He still didn't get why she ran when she was legit rich and a very educated mage to boot, but it seemed that she liked to learn things about magic that she couldn't 'sitting in the ivory tower', so to speak.

“More?” Talon asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. The wind was quite fierce up here, but it was extremely pleasant to look down upon the neon-soaked city.

He held the glass out, raising an eyebrow. Given his overall size and weight, he had a rather amazing tolerance, not even having felt the double-shot. Drinking some more, he went to sit on the large couch that was on the balcony; a bit worn, it was at least sized for fairly large orks by his guess, and so he could somewhat sit on it. His knees came up quite a bit; Talon sat next to him, slumping back. It was sagging and quite comfortable, all told.

“Thanks,” Talon said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“I never thanked you. For...that.” His cybereyes fixed on him; expressionless as they were, but he could still read subtle facial hints.

Downfall knew he was speaking of the help he gave him at the clinic. “Nothin' doing, chummer. You needed it.”

Talon nodded, scratching the skin around his cyberarm. The loose tank top he wore-even outside with the wind-showed where the metal connected to his torso; Downfall, being magically active even if it was inside, shunned cyberware and even bioware, the latter being safer for mages and adepts. It still, apparently, 'dampened' the ability, though he couldn't lie that he was curious about what sort of mix bioware could give him. He heard of some mages and adepts getting reflex enhancers that have done wonders, but he didn't want to go on the path of a burned-out adept.

“I'm Darren,” he said, staring out over the city. He sipped his drink.

Downfall smirked, leaning back himself. “You'd laugh.”

“Try me.”

“Gaelorite.”

Talon snorted laughter. “That is the snootiest fragging name I've ever heard.”

“Trust me, I know. Tir nobles were notorious for that drek. Most just called me Gael. My old friends that is. Wouldn't want to hear my full name.”

“Gael's actually pretty wiz.”

He shrugged and held out his glass again. “Keep it coming.”

It was uncommon to have a relatively peaceful night in the shadows-despite the fact it started out bloody.

But, they would take them as they came. 

--

As usual, has the 2050s timeline as my stuff does. 

(As another author's note, Downfall and Adramelek, the one gang lieutenant who shows up in other fiction, have a bit of a friendly rivalry due to a few of their similarities of big, strong elves who have slightly similar fighting styles, though Adramelek favors savate and got his special spikey boots made for the sole purpose of killing.)