Ritz finished her food as the other finished his fighting, he had finally listened to her, the thugs weren't trained fighters, the shots she had said to do wouldn't knock them out, but they wouldn't be getting back up easily either. When he heaved and began to act like he'd been through hell she'd raise a brow, "Not bad." she'd state before ripping up a piece of napkin and writing on it before sliding it to him, "If ya actually wanna learn to fight, instead of betting me you could just ask next time." she stated before standing throwing some yen to the owner, "Fer now, I suggest some more cardio and some minor muscle training." she snorted turning as she would kick the bodies of the unconscious men out of the shop with little to no effort on her part.
Noble Negative J3t
Posted: Tue Mar 26, 2019 6:31 pm
Hmmmm? She was giving him her number? She was being nice? Why was this! Because she seen his fighting? Or something else. He didn't think she be this nice at all. Ever. He wasn't going to question it. He just, wanted to get home low key. Looking at the paper, he would still fight catch his breath. "Cardio and muscle training? Maybe tomorrow. I'll call soon. Just. I am done for tonight" he informed touching his lip. Yeah Ayano was gonna flip!!! She probably was going to give him a whole spill about not calling her and other things. His body would sit up, his muscles aching but he was doing his best to hide it. It been a long night."Suggestions?"
Ritz threw more out as the other was talking to her, she'd turn her head and look to him, "Whatever you say kid." she'd wave her hand idly and finally throw the last body out into a heap as she heard the musical tones of pained groaning. Dusting her hands as she would look back to him when he asked about suggestions, "Fer yer soreness, you get the choice between a hot soak or an ice soak. I suggest hot bath or sumthin since you don't have the diet to be able to deal with cold. Stretch too." she muttered before eyeing his split lip, "For the lip, you'd have to get a cold compress, unless you got one of the small bandages for it." she'd state, "Other then that, if you are serious about trainin' get some flexibility. Do yoga or something. Zumba...pilo...pilaties? It helps build the muscle you need without being buff as all s**t." she'd finish, "But seriously, get that lip treated." she'd go on before waving and making her exit.
Her playful mood was thoroughly spoiled, and the s**t-eating grin had fallen from cherub visage. Rubberized wheels suppress the earth beneath every glide, her strides sharp with purpose. Black leather slung low on the angles of her hips and a simple navy blue tshirt are all that separates her from the brisk springtime air slicing through her pitch braided crown. Ono takes another draw of the fresh f**, staring forward speculatively as an opaque miasma plumes from pursed lips to drift fluidly into flared nostrils.
She feels a little sick, actually. There was something in those eyes that twists her up inside; balmy palms began to sweat. ...What?
"I ********' hate him." Puckered mouthpiece chides, expel a rippling jet of smoke to the side, and the dewy pallor around kohl-lined eyne seems to pinch. The fiery cherry of the cigarette devouring a solid quarter in a massive pull meant to clear her mind; the carcinogen cloud rolling up to obscure tense features. "Or maybe I jus' ******** hate what he represents," utterance mutters, sliding Jax a sideways glance as they steadily venture closer to the location.
Not entirely sure on what else to say, and certainly she doesn't want to get into the complexities of it, but both know they probably have to in the very near future.
Flicking whirling remains off, left into the grime to die absentmindedly. A large, bulk-laden man crosses his arms, flexing hard in a much too small white shirt. "Sup, Ono-chan? Jax! Hey, babycakes, you two good?" Ronin lulls, his shoulders the alloy door frame, the cocksure smirk highlighting grey stubble on countenance. They are in no position to deny him at this point. But they would.
Immediately Ono waves, smoothly swerving within the darkened rabbit hole. Music assaulted senses, reverberation thick, heady as the throng of bodies gyrating in one massive wave to it. Digits tug at exposed curvity, ushering her into carnal reveries. Tempting, but there'd be none of that at the moment. Heavy-lidded glancing from over a shoulder, her life's partner in crime was on her a**, literally.
Deeper graceful gaits sojourn until shouts and ricocheting thwacks countered the melodic bass upstairs.
Blood colored the concrete like a river running dry. His body was growing more and heavier by the second. The family business was a tough one and this did nothing about his confidence. His fight with his cousin didn't go as he expected but there was a catch. He wasn't dead! He only was missing.. an eye which was honestly the east of his issues. The clothes wrapped around his injuries on the midsection did its best medical wrap impersonation. His face was a little swollen. It was pretty obvious this man had been in some kind of altercation and there wasn't anyone who tried to stop it. He would stop as he came across a bar that had a tv reflection playing perfectly on the window. Deaths? Who was killing riders? He didn't understand any logic in that. Hell, he didn't understand the logic in nuking the United States either. The worse was still yet to come from the outcome of that decision but what would come from it? War? Invasion? Crippling market? It was already hard to sell weapons like some people who are more patriotic didn't exactly like buying weapons from a Japanese Native. He had no control over his government!! What was even the reasoning behind it?
His phone would buzz signaling that he received a hit on the twitter fingers. A lame name but he had no control over that either. Especially those pesky copyrights. Tapping his fingers against the touchpad keys, the burner phone would reply. Great, they would meet soon. Interestingly enough, a company answered him which made him ironically giggle. He remembered when such businesses wouldn't even associate with trouble but now seem to be the greatest money maker. Storm riding was a weird culture. Going legit. Being like a league similar to MLB or NFL and yet many refused.. It's like being legit and marketing storm riding would just kill everything that made it good. It's rebellion. It's freedom. But was it really freedom? There were people made specifically to ride. How much power was storm riding really hiding behind its tricks, wheels, and kings?
Making it to a diner, he would walk in and head to the back to start to clean himself off. At least, if someone was coming to get him a new eye he would at least like to look good when he receives it. No one inside of the diner was going to care. Common occurrence. With technology and how far it advanced, it was pretty hard to kill someone. Even those who seem to be almost to the great beyond could be brought back which has made some people lose faith in religion. Finishing his clean up act, he would go over and sit in a booth, an order of coffee and hashbrowns already in the work as he awaited the arrival of this person from the agency. "Koi is going to kill me. At least seeing isn't so bad with one eye..."
xxxxᴅ ᴀ ᴛ ᴀ
Quote:
R.E.A.D.: xxx
ACC: x [---] STR: xxx [---] STA: xx [105] JMP: xx [---] AIR: xxx WEAR: xxx%[
Worse than nightmares are those dreams that are more beautiful, ephemeral than anything you’ve seen. Places you know you can never go, so many things you cannot be...
She surrenders; the electronic device goes black. The night begins to settle between the lines of her face, darkness lapped at her figure as the SUV roamed the streets, suffusing her tired shape into a nebulous of colors. In this profession, more often than not, self-made Kings found they only had followers or enemies; never was there a single friend in which shared the burden, whatever it may be. Lucky's eyne lifted, visage peers through the tinted windows and neon-lighted umbra to settle upon the diner. Call it fate, call it luck; this world's cherubim steps from the vehicle, the door opened by a well-suited male in blackened shades and tailored textiles.
Black waves tumble loosely down her shoulders, cascading descent down silken blouse cinched by white pleated pants. Heeled feet take one step and then another, closer to the door. Easily does she open the ringing aperture, balancing her phone with the same hand. The other, however, occupied by a pristine briefcase. Obviously overdressed for the setting but unphased and onlooking, she veers rapt observance to the patrons, each tired and battered mien registered. Everyday people in the vicious cycle, tolling and struggling. She had hoped for so much more, humanity had been on the eve of something greater than this desolation, and yet, mankind does as it normally contends to doing: it explodes in fiery fury. It begins again, built on the ruins of Rome.
Sighing, attention fixates on the individual huddling in the booth. Flaxen tresses in disarray, rosen color biting the height of cheekbones and tip of his nose. Singular eye connects, her head cants, inclining slightly just as the elderly waitress brought plated hashed browns—something fitting the description of them—and a bit more, given the grim state presented. Curvature swerves, casually strolling toward the individual but she does not hover over him, instead she lowers into the seat just opposite of him. The metal case perched beside her.
"Hello," she looks upon the immortalized image of the fallen fledgling casting the stare of hallowed condemnation that she has grown so accustomed to and her gut twists in on itself, a serpent consuming its own body. Though thought was interrupted, the same waitress standing, awaiting her order. "Tea, please. Hot."
Perception again finds the blonde wholly. "It seems you've had a bit of bad luck and I seem to be intruding on your meal. Please, take your time; finish your food." Delicate features soften, upturning as she smiles.
Delicate, her entrance was. Silent like a deadly assassin. The figure that filled out the purity of white fabric would soon join him. Her case included. A scene he has been in too many times but this time it wasn't him with the briefcase. He wasn't the dealer, but instead the one in need. Even in a relatively peaceful setting, he still had an apprehensive nature. He wasn't sure why. They were in public and the worst was surely over? She seemed relatively harmless as well but that naive nature has burned him way too many times. She looked sweet. She looked like a delicate flower but even a flower can be a carnivore. Stirring his fork around the low-quality browns of hash, he would struggle to utter the neutral respecting reply of "Hello". His voice seemed raspy, a mixture of shyness rubbed into his natural voice. That same shyness grew, his confidence depleting by the moment by the woman's general assessment of the situation.
A staccato note resonated as he dropped his fork against the cheep glass plate. Looking at Lucky, he wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wanted to respond with bitterness and disgust, but that quickly changed upon sight of her soften features. It made him feel...like things were going to be okay. It wouldn't surprise him if she was one of the company's most requested. "My appetite is gone, unfortunately." The hashbrowns were hardly dug into. A waste of 3.99 plus tax. He sat back into the booth, his body sinking slowly more into the soft material. A thought came across his mind before he looked over to the case and then back at her. Maybe it was time to begin this transaction. He needed to show her the full extent of the injury. Some would say that there was no reason for prosthetics if he had an eye patch.
Blonde hair would shift, covering his eyes as a semi-transparent barrier as he would take off the eye patch. Moving his hair back, the socket would be shown. There was no eyeball there and seemed to be some heavy nerve damage. Dried up blood still remained from the incident, creating crimson stains around his socket. "They say humanity would end up destroying itself if you don't interfere... I believe in this. I believe it due to those who are reckless going unchecked and those who have power unable to stop them until its too late. Just something I always thought about. By no means am I someone innocent" He comments before looking back at the case. "I ready go over the options when you are"
xxxxᴅ ᴀ ᴛ ᴀ
Quote:
R.E.A.D.: xxx
ACC: x [---] STR: xxx [---] STA: xx [105] JMP: xx [---] AIR: xxx WEAR: xxx%[
It had all been too much, she supposes. An inescapable, inter-connective web of lies spoon fed the masses around the clock. The World Wide Web disburses falsities hegemonized by the megalomaniacs so the poverty-stricken, nescient denizens focus on the fast-paced, bigger, high quality, now. The end of the world was nigh, all and sundry knew that hiding behind bolted doors wouldn't save the planet from imminent annihilation. People surged to the streets, remonstrating against fanatics and bigots with raised sky-high signage, the cities smoldered with every riot; their anger turned palpable. The struggle, the demise of civilization had no heroes, unlike those puerile fairy tales.
Preventable became inevitable.
She remembered it, streamed and televised hard not to notice; it was all anyone had talked about: that distant cloud cover gleamed in variegated colors unimaginable, everything did after the fallout. Refracting iridescence became the sheen of their skin, hazy metastases sighted even on the refugees taken in by other countries, even to this day.
Bittersweet hues of lime fruits ignite countenance, expressionless indifference unwavering in thought; the final effigy upon the pyre. The fires of humanity doused to ashy dross, to the dereliction to unravel that produced temporal malignancies greedily consuming the Earth.
To dust, all return.
Sad, it was horribly sad and depression-inducing. Vision sputters, eyes veering off. Digit drifts upward, plucking the tear before it has a chance to fall pon rosen cheeks. The world wouldn't ever be the same; the tormented soul presented was one of many that felt the shockwaves to the aftermath. Kindness had gone away too, hope of a better tomorrow with it. Sullied remains in husk-like wandering were all left: live everyday to the fullest translated to live fast and die young. So he lost an eye and instead of seeking out a hospital, laughable given their overabundance of bodies and long-since depleted staffing, but his last hope was this diner and her.
Exasperation filters through parted lips, promptly she takes a sip of warm beverage. The contents churn in her stomach at viewable socket.
The chipped cup resumes its place. "I'm sorry.... The world is cruel." Petals purse, though she nods her head. "If you are looking for a weaponized cybernetic, I strongly urge otherwise, and will decline this business. With such close proximity to your brain, a mishap would be the death of you. There's also the factor that there are people who would attempt hacking it. I'd use something akin to ground-bound fibers to keep this from happening. Do you have any questions?"
"There is no need to be sorry about that. The world was going to be harsh rather you could do something about it or not. Your apology does make it seem a little better though. Maybe it's the calming voice? The sweet soft tone that is released from your lips. It gives me hope. Oddly enough. No it's not a pick up line or anything. It's just more like...when a leader is speaking and it rejuvenates the audience? Maybe I have said too much"
The male would then hush after his statement and look out the window. What was he even saying at this point? What was even those words. He needed his eyes and he needed them pronto. The lack of an eye was making his brain malfunction too? Doubtful but it was an excuse he would definitely use. It was now time to get down to business. Like any type of negotiation there was a give and a take to it all. He wasn't truly thinking about a weaponized cybernetic but it would be fun to have. He wasn't going to kid himself. Shooting a lazerbeam out of the eye like superman would be pretty incredible to have especially in his line of business. However, that was off the table. Her reasonings weren't bad at all. They were well thought out and had specific consequences that were all in the realm of possibility. It wasn't a fear tactic and it wasn't something to try and make him raise the price or beg. She seemed legitimately concerned. Nodding to the agreement, he was curious. Fiber optics. "Fiber optics? Would it require heavy surgery to do or would you be able to do it here? I do agree on the weaponization. While cool, I can understand that it would be essentially a walking death flag. Way technology is, hacking has become more and more dangerous. It's not like the old days where one would hack like a bookface account and stuff." :
His comments would end with the waiter coming to check up on the table. A batch of coffee requested from the blonde along with anything that the worker might request from the waitress. Once she left again, Aithen would look at the woman across from him waiting for more information. He was invested. He had the money and was just waiting on the magical words. How much it was going to cost and of course what features if any that was going to be placed in the eye.
xxxxᴅ ᴀ ᴛ ᴀ
Quote:
R.E.A.D.: xxx
ACC: x [---] STR: xxx [---] STA: xx [105] JMP: xx [---] AIR: xxx WEAR: xxx%[
