Thanks for the compliments! 

@dragon-soul92 It was a great starter. Here's hoping they can get the friend badge soon.

@Brom Feel better soon! We'll behave in the interim.

Was nice to do a collab with dragon-soul92 right out of the gate; here's to many more teamwork moments to come.

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 03:50 PM PST - High-City, Desnai Enclave Park, de Costa’s Conapt X00230:76.Y00100:03.Z97240:52, Central Night City Integrate.

Weather Conditions: High City (Very Windy, 25 mph winds from the West.) | Midcity (Windy, 13mph winds from the West.) | Undercity (Slight Wind, 5mph gusts from the West.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 35 | Undercity = 65 (masks required)

There isn’t a version of this story where she stays. Coming home in February for the funeral was the last thing she expected or wanted to do. Visiting with family was always nice - was the only time she didn’t have to pay for a bed - but the silence was killing Cipher.

Her home was never quiet. Whether it was the whirring of their mechas, Mateo and Luis coming and going from work and friends, or Mama’s blaring newscasts, the da Costa residence was not a quiet place. At least, not before Papa died.

Now Mama distracts herself with cleaning every inch of the conapt, down on her knees even to get at the baseboards and vents; she’d affixed sponges to her hopper’s legs while mopping earlier. All Cipher had been hearing since Aunt Mercedes left was squeaking of cleaning agents and rags, between the endless comments on her Edgerunning, love life, living situation, the NFP. She knows that it comes from a place of concern - one borne not when a mecha crushed her father’s skull and broke his spine, but when the Movement first picked up speed, the coup failed, and it had been 10 months before Cipher saw daylight above ground again - but it was suffocating.

So the text to Cred-Stick is Cipher’s solution, her way out. And maybe her mother’s way out too.

Mama doesn’t understand when she tells her, doesn’t see why this is her only choice. It’s not like Cipher explains much anyways - Papa was the revolutionary, the one with fire to get the world changed. Mama just wanted a quiet life with her family, and now risks losing her home because of said family.

“Es hora de que me vaya.”

She leaves the conapt in a flood of guilt, a slew of Spanish prayers and pleading. It takes Cipher a moment to gather herself outside the door, before that professional Edgerunner takes over and her head is in the game again. Cred-Stick mentioned a new medtech she could meet up with at the front gates, so she catches a park pod and makes her way up. She settles by a pillar at the entrance, after flashing her dogtags and exiting for maybe the last time in a while. It takes only a few moments before a message on her agent has her leading Guardian to her.

March 10th, Day 4 - Monday, Time is 04:40 PM PST - High-City, Desnai Enclave Park, Entrance X00233:76.Y00095:03.Z97240:52, Central Night City Integrate.

'I'm David Olsen, but you can call me Guardian. I'm your new medtech. But you probably know that already.' He broke off with a somewhat sheepish chuckle. 'So, you must be Cipher? What is it you do? What do you like? Maybe we can find something in common?' He grinned and winked.

Cipher regards the newcomer with a raised brow. She's quite used to men approaching her - especially since she had the Nanogroomers installed - but the buffer of being an Edgerunner usually preemptively shut the flirting down. Though it's hardly bad to be friendly with teammates, now is it?

She offers Guardian a small smile, smoothing her mohawk down a bit more. "That would be me. I'll be the one making lying on her back look tough; I'm a netrunner. And I like medtechs that can keep me in one piece, so consider that our first thing in common. How long you been Edgerunning?"

Quite the shy girl, ain't she? Guardian thought, he grin fading a little. Better back off a bit, don't want to spook her. He dropped his cocky attitude and fell into a more professional attitude, which he didn't like. He hated restraining himself but he needed to make a good first impression otherwise this gig could be over before it's even begun and if he really rubbed Cipher the wrong way, she may not even let him see Blossom, which he longed to. He missed her. They'd been apart for far too long, their different occupations keeping them busy and in seperate parts of the city. He smiled mentally in anticipation of seeing-and even working alongside-his friend again. But all that depended on wether he could get past this first obstacle-Cipher. 'I've been into it for a few years now,' he replied. 'I went to medical collage and graduated with a degree, then went onto further training until I finally got my medical licence about 5 years ago. So, what about you? How long have you been a netrunner? How'd you get into it?'

"I like taking things apart," Cipher replies. "Seeing how they work, what makes them tick. Maybe I'd be a scavv if things were very different, but fortunately they weren't." She runs a hand over her mohawk, letting it rest on the base of her skull, feeling the cyllinders through her jacket collar. "I've grown up around robots and know them inside and out, but the Net is uncharted territory. It's not ones and zeroes and rockerboy social medias, but a living, changing world. Consider me Columbus, I guess.

"I got into netrunning for a few reasons, but exploration is one of them. Curiosity the next, as I'd love to see one of those self-spawned AIs some day. I've been at it for about ten years now, and Edgerunning for about as long." She regards Guardian with an inquisitive look. "Was it the cutting part or the saving people part that drew you into the bodies business?"

Guardian took in everything he had learned so far about his new (hopefully) friend.

Tech geek, huh? Technology is cool. It's helped me save lives that, without the tech, would otherwise have perished. But if powerful tech got into the wrong hands...well, I guess that's the danger with any sort of power.

'AI? I guess that would be great if it doesn't turn on us. I prefer technology we have control over. AIs have a mind of their own. Literally. But if it doesn't go rogue, then yeah, sure. Could be useful. As long as the world doesn't end up like that Will Smith movie, i-Robot.' He chuckled in amusement.

'Anyway,' he continued, gathering his thoughts, 'As for why I became a medtech, it was my parents. They worked so hard every day to selflessly save lives and I admired them for that. I know this may sound clichéd, but they were my heroes. I loved spending time with them and seeing first hand the amazing work they were doing to help people.

'Until that day...,' he paused, his brow furrowing as a dark shadow cast a blackened void over his mind as the painful, deveststing memories threatened to smother him. He swallowed hard in an attempt to dispel both the images that he unwillingly summoned that flashed through his subconciousness and to banish the lump that had knotted his throat. He was only partially succsessful in achieving the latter, the harsh memories still tormenting him. He gritted his teeth and exhaled a short, sharp sigh. Will he never be free of the horrors of his past? Must he continue to be plagued by them for the rest of his days, slowly eating away at him until all that remained was an empty, hollow husk devoid of all the good that made him who he was? No. He couldn't let that happen. His parents were strong, and that's what he aspired to be. He couldn't dishonor the memory of his parents by showing weakness. Of any kind.

He suddenly realised that he'd let his thoughts trail for too long and he looked at Cipher, clearing his throat and stuttering slightly 's-sorry,' he apologised. 'My mind drifted off. Anyway, as I was saying, my parents were medtechs before me and after their deaths-which sent me to live with my Aunt-I felt inspired to continue their legacy. To be their legacy. I want to know what happened to them. The government are claiming it was a freak accident, and maybe it was, but I want to know for sure. Find out for myself. Get my own evidence. I won't be satisfied with the coroner's report until I do.' He grinned apologetically at his companion. 'Sorry,' he repeated, 'here I am rambling on about my sob story when we have things to do.'

Cipher is about to comment on how tech is widespread, while power isn't, and how that was part of the problem when Guardian's demeanour changes. She's about to ask if he is choking on something when he hits her with the family tragedy. Her own grief swells at the mention of dead parents, tearing at the edges of her professionalism; keeping her cool on the Edge has been about the only thing holding her together since Papa's funeral. The last place to start crying is in front of this stranger. She has a job to do, and missing her dad is too big a distraction to afford right now.

"Sorry to hear about your parents," she says to Guardian, offering a sympathetic smile. "It's good you still have a connection to them, being a doctor like them and all. It's a lot more rewarding to save lives then end them, especially once you taste that tragedy yourself."

Then she is choking, a surge of grief catching in her throat, and it takes Cipher a second to gather herself. "So this rescue op, what's your stake in it? Cred-Stick recruit you too?"

Guardian shrugged and replied, 'I got a message from my old mate, Blossom offering me this gig. Seemed like a good opportunity, you know. Maybe a chance to move on up. To be honest, she didn't tell me much. She was a little sketchy on the details. So, mind filling me in? What exactly are you guys doin'?'

"You signed up for this without details?" Cipher raises a fractured eyebrow at that, though she drops it a moment later; she didn't exactly sign up for the eddies alone on this one. "Then it's a good thing you met up with me before the rest of the group." She glances about, shuffling a bit closer to Guardian as she says in a low tone, "Apparently we're hitting a corp compound to rescue a solo. I'm not naming names while we're in the open, but this one is either a shot at glory or a shot through the head. So you'd do well to watch your rear, choombatta."

Welcome back to the fold, ol' Blue Eyes! I look forward to saving Vegas' butt.

Alternatively, if you're like me and find the books hard to follow at times, I found this YouTube playlist that gives a really good overview of the Cyberpunk lore, including corporations. It is meant to bring people up-to-date on Cyberpunk 2077, the upcoming video game, and therefore might go further in the timeline than Flesh & Blood is set in, but I found it helpful so maybe others would like a listen?

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4oIv9QY_YATZnEp8kTDsgoysrdFi3gm7

Thank you for the update and all the work on Cipher! She and Guardian be chippin' in, and this is about to be apogee.

There is no way the Yakuza meet-up or the message from Vegas aren't traps. Your plan is good, Tann, but splitting the party seems very risky.

Vegas didn't give a timeframe on when he needs a pick up nor even his location from what I read, so how are we to go get him? I say meeting with the Yakuza should be the higher priority since it's already arranged and backing out would be a huge blow to the group's reptuation. Blossom would be better suited on working out more intel on Vegas' location in a safe location than being a chipreader in what is most definitely going to end in a shootout.

Nevermind, I need to read closer. Thanks for the clarification in that last post, Espatier.

So it'd be safe to assume that Charlie is gone to class while Casino is meeting with the Yakuza?

Except it comes across as metagaming. Players reacting with the knowledge of "if I do X, then this character will do Y" is meta knowledge, therefore metagaming. I understand you mean this as clarifying Casino's thoughts on the current issue and are trying to avoid drama, but it can be read as threatening other players with drama if they don't react the way you wish to.

No one is saying anything is wrong with your post, Tann; it's your out-of-character messages that tread close to metagaming. Keeper is right; it's a player choice to tell Casino about the Vegas call or not, and Espatier is completely within his right to play that way. I've seen you taking my advice with how you roleplay Casino since we talked, and it's been really awesome and appreciated, but this time it's OOC action that is impeding other people from having fun. If you want to message me to talk about this, please do; I want to help ease this stuff out before we're all at each other's throats.

I think Casino is too close to this, but is the better option for combat leadership.

Charlie should be the leader, but be able to hand off leadership in a firefight. So maybe Casino as second-in-command could be an option? If not, then I vote co-leadership.

Bloodbank downed one last shot, tipped his head at the bartender as he paid, and left the bar after Ghlahn's command. Settled in the car, he gave Blossom a half-smile. "Glad to see you're sticking around after all."

Nice to have you, dragon-soul92! Looking forward to the medical expertise or whatever you'll be bringing to the table.

Look who finally posted.

Sorry for the wait, everyone, but hope the info provided can lead to some inspiration for y'all. NPC list and Dragonfly's profile are my priorities for this week, as well as a collab with Espatier, so hopefully I can get a bit quicker on the updates as we chug along.

Hearthstone Apartments, the Fens

A little past 4 a.m.

Muffled swearing was the clue that Zarenna was home. Usually it was loud kpop blasting through the door or a sharp “Wasabi, no!” when the cat tried his luck with an open window, but not tonight. Even with an ambulance siren breaking through layers of cheap plaster, the kid upstairs trash-talking his way into a grounding from video games, and the pounding behind Evin’s eyes after her 12-hour shift, there was no missing the sharp, pained grunts coming from the neighbouring apartment.

“And just when I think I’m done with overtime,” Evin muttered to herself, “I meet a superhero whose too dumb to call ahead when she knows I’ll be home tonight. I could have gotten more bandages from work.” Balancing the groceries and her work duffle bag with one hand, she made short work of unlocking her apartment door, kicking off her sneakers, and getting ready for the next couple hours. 

Emptying the essential groceries - the ice cream and wine, that is - into place was her first stop, then dropping her duffle bag by the laundry hamper for the trip downstairs later; Evin would have changed too, but she figured it was better to have blood on her scrubs than a pair of yoga pants. She stopped to look in the mirror once, tucking stray hair back behind her headband, grumbling at the dark circles under her eyes, then grabbed the first aid kit in the hallway closet, stuffed her sore feet into slippers, and made her way across the hall.

As usual, the spare key was in the crack between the doorframe and wall, so Evin let herself into Zarenna’s apartment, mindful of any flash of calico fur making a break for the door. She swore Zarenna’s cat had superpowers too, for how often he slipped out of the apartment; his record was getting three blocks away, but Evin’s favourite incident was when he snuck into the Abbotts and chased their Yorkie onto the balcony.

Thinking of him must have summoned him, for Wasabi suddenly appeared before Evin’s feet,  looking past her at the closed door. The cat blinked up at her once, green eyes like saucers, then turned and walked away.

“Nice seeing you too,” Evin chuckled at the cat’s disappearing tail. She set the medkit on the counter as she headed into Zarenna’s kitchen. The hygiene routine she followed as a nurse was easy enough to repeat in the dingy little apartment; washing her hands in scalding water at the sink, slipping on latex gloves, double-checking her supplies - running low on butterfly bandages, but there was enough gauze for now. Evin was halfway through laying out her most-used instruments on the kitchen counter when Zarenna exited the bathroom.

Clearly fresh from the shower, Zarenna tucked her towel tighter around her chest, and gave Evin a confused look. “I thought you said you were watching Ryan Gosling movies until you were actually dreaming of him tonight?”

“I am,” Evin replied.

“But you’re in scrubs and are holding a scalpel in my kitchen right now,” Zarenna said.

“And I could hear you swearing and groaning louder than Jasmine and Nick from down the hall, so I got ready.” She gestured at the barstool beside her. “Hop up and let’s go this over with. I have wine to drink.”

Zarenna rolled her eyes, but complied and took a seat. “Two bullets hit me between my left shoulder blade and spine, as well as one that grazed my helmet and might’ve hit my ear,” she listed as Evin began checking her over, “I have some pretty bad scrapes on my knees, a huge bruise on my right palm, and of course, blisters on my feet.”

“Was it a Nine Milimeter?” Evin asked, brushing the shower cap away from her friend’s ear to begin her check-up

“Most likely,” Zarenna winced at the poking. “I wasn’t paying attention to more than ‘look, man with gun threatening unarmed teenager.’”

“Here I was thinking you’d have all the time in the world at Mach Two to notice stuff like that,” Evin smirked.

Her teasing earned her a glare from her friend. “I can run at Mach Two but it's not like I’m noticing that much,” Zarenna explained, tilting her head to give the light and Evin better access to her ear. “I control speed and direction, so I can propel myself to high speeds, but it’s like I’m in a tunnel and -”

“And your brain can’t keep up with the speed past a certain threshold because while you are theoretically capable of running at the speed of the light, you lack the physiology and senses of a traditionally-Powered speedster to process sensory information past normal human limits.” At Zarenna’s wide eyes, Evin cocked an eyebrow. “You complain every time the news gets your powers wrong. I’ve heard this explanation at least thirty times. Now, lean forward and tell me about your patrol.”

While she leaned forward, Evin caught the wince on her friend’s face as she braced herself against the counter, then felt herself wince when Zarenna dropped her towel around her waist. Her back was a mess of bruises; blue-black rings around the centre of impact on her left shoulder and lower back, with mottled purple abrasions showing the pathways the kinetic energy of the bullets took after colliding with her Kevlar-padded costume. Given that her entire trapezius muscle was a battered wreck, Evin took extra care with her examination of Zarenna.

“I started at seven PM as usual,” Zarenna recounted, “and it was quiet until eleven. There was a bar fight that spilled into the street in North Point I just had to run by to break up.” Her breath hitched when Evin pressed into her ribs, checking for fractures. “It was when I was passing the nightclubs that I overheard a drug shipment was coming into the docks. I made my way to Bay View and as it turns out, the Disciples were crawling all over the warehouse.”

Evin let loose a curse. “Please tell me the ER isn’t about to be flooded with daydream-abusers again.”

“No,” Zarenna assured, “Only painkiller addicts. I handled the Disciples and the police were there to meet the daydream suppliers on the docks.”

“Did you get shot during the raid? Hands, please.”

Zarenna brought her towel back up to her chest, then laid her hands palm-up in front of her. Evin’s lips formed a thin line at the sight of her friend’s right hand, a battered and bruised mess like her back. 

“I caught a bullet,” Zarenna explained when Evin shot her a questioning look. “And no, this wasn’t from fighting with Disciples. It happened after.”

“Right. A teenager was being threatened?”

“I cut through Saint Mary’s Park on my back to the Fens, and then I heard a scream. I checked by the tennis courts and, as usual, there was trouble there. A girl was making a detour to Downtown by the bike pathways when some guys cornered her, forced her into the bushes.”

Evin swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Please tell me you knocked all of their teeth out.”

“Naturally,” Zarenna assured. “One of them had a gun, however, and unloaded a magazine on me. I dodged most of them, got clipped by the ear trying to get close to him, and then caught one when he went to fire. I was busy knocking the shooter unconscious when his friend picked up the handgun and hit me twice in the back.

“After I caught my breath again, I took the girl to the edge of the park, flagged down a cab, and got her a ride to the police station. The guys got away, but with the injuries I gave them, I imagine they’ll be showing up at a hospital in the next few days. There were at least two sets of fingerprints on the handgun too, so I think that case will be a straightforward one.”

Evin loosed a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Even two years on, mentions of women being attacked reminded Evin too much of her sister’s assault. Rotting in a jail cell was still not enough for what the scumbag had done to Sidney.

But her sister was whole and safe and enjoying her honeymoon in Barcelona, so Evin shook off the dark memories and refocused on her present. She finished checking over Zarenna’s arms and dragged the remaining barstool in front of her. “And now for our favourite part,” she joked. “Feet.”

Zarenna swung her legs up onto the seat, hissing when her skinned knee made contact with the countertop. Evin was more than a little grateful she had caught Zarenna after she had showered; a speedster’s feet always reeked after patrol. Fortunately, no smell but coconut wafted into her nose when Evin bent to examine the damage running at superspeed did to Zarenna’s feet this time.

As a former track athlete and now superhero, blisters were the least of the injuries Zarenna had acquired. Plantar fasciitis was a common problem, as was shin splints, sore muscles, hamstring strains. A tear to her ACL had left Scyon City without its signature hero for almost the entire summer two years ago. Evin had not known her back then, but she had been told that Zarenna had walked around on sprained ankles for almost four months after she first got her powers at twenty-four; turning corners at superspeed was a dangerous game, apparently.

Without a doubt, the worst were the burns. Zarenna’s feet were the biggest casualty of her night gig, but all of her body was susceptible to burning at the right speed. Breaking the sound barrier for the first time ended in Zarenna laid up for weeks afterwards, unable to walk from the second-degree burns on her soles. Testing out materials for her suits had ended in friction burns as she neared her top speed, with the fabric itself tearing her skin before the right balance of protection and movement was struck. The insanity of last year had seen Zarenna covered in burns, as she pushed herself harder and harder in pursuing the Boogeyman and his victims across the city. Dealing with the aftermath of her patrols each night last October had been the hardest Evin had worked since she first found out Zarenna was Dragonfly, when she collapsed outside her apartment in full costume, bleeding out with a knife in her stomach.

Tonight, however, it was the usual blisters and nothing more. Her legs needed no more than a quick antibacterial swabbing - for Evin trusted this building’s water system to clean open wounds as much as she believed Mayor Watts’ promise of the hospital getting refurbished by the end of this year. “Doctor says you’re clear,” she smiled as Zarenna stood. “You’re going to ice those bruises, right?”

“Yes,” Zarenna assured as she strode towards her bedroom.

“And take it easy on your palm?”

“As much as I can.”

Evin knew pushing for more than that level of commitment would end up in an argument, so she settled for a reminder to check on Zarenna after her next shift, and to pack away her medical supplies for now. She had the toolbox in hand and was heading for the door when Zarenna called out once more, “You leaving?”

“To watch Ryan Gosling be shirtless,” Evin responded, stopping at the doorway, “of course.”

Zarenna exited her bedroom, now in pajamas, with Wasabi twining about her legs. “You could bring the movie here and we just pass out on the couch after.”

Evin chuckled. “Are we almost thirty or highschoolers?”

She got a roll of the eyes but a smile in return. “I think everyone turns into a schoolgirl for Gosling, but if you want to drink wine alone, feel free to keep walking.”

Evin did keep walking, right back to her apartment. Where she quickly shoved the medkit back in its spot, grabbed the copy of Crazy, Stupid, Love - and the ice cream and wine - before hustling back across the hall. Zarenna was busy working a brush through Wasabi’s coat when Evin settled on the couch beside her, two spoons and glasses in hand, and pressed play on the movie.

“Can I hold the ice cream to ice my hand?”

“Don’t push your luck, Reed.”

Bloodbank is drinking alone for now, but no vodka will be wasted on Casino's head.

I deleted my post, but have a copy saved in case you want me to put it back up, Brom. Based on Casino's new post, however, I don't feel bottle-smashing is the appropriate response from BB, but I can change it up if this makes me swapping characters that much harder on you.

I may retract the post depending on what you write, Tann. For now, if it still fits, Casino still gets hit upside the head, so the roll to hit from Bloodbank can be done, Brom.

I'm not playing in a game where the character that causes all the drama gets off scot-free and blames it on someone else.

In this case, I think the onus is on Casino. He blew his top first. And if he's expecting the party to go risk their necks and rescue his friend when buggering off and laying low until the corpo is off their trail is a much safer option, an apology and more team-like attitude is in order.

Nice work Espatier and Hammer! Very intrigued by all the mystery of a spy and ghost prowling about Dragonfly's city.

As for my post, I am inching my ways towards the finish line and do hope to have it finished by this week's end, fingers crossed. After that, Espatier and I have a collab in the works so stay tuned for faster writing from me this time around lol.

At Blossom's outburst, Bloodbank just felt weary. This gig had been the longest one he'd been a part of since he became a medtech, and it had ended in the worst way imaginable. Now he was stuck with bickering EDI-hounds after watching a woman get shot, and their only chance at getting any intel was walking out the door. In all honesty, he wasn't sure he could take this much longer.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bloodbank sighed deeply, shook his head, and regarded the remaining solos. "Look, we can all agree that we've done some sh*t to each other, intentional or not, but the basic run-down is we're either in this together or not. If Blossom's out, then we need someone new for our rescue op, and if Ghlahn is out, then we may as well kiss our *sses goodbye." He shuffled his way out of the seat. "So until we've got an agreement, you can find me at the bar." Bloodbank strode towards the counter, calling out his drink to the tender behind it.

Tann, you're talking like I can't make a character who just really likes the thrill of being near-death.  As for my new character joining up, I already have talked to Brom about my idea for her entrance, but there is a variety of ways that recruitment could happen, like Charlie hiring me, for example.

@Keeper, if you do decide on a new character, we could maybe ease the burden on Brom and have our characters come in together. Up for a partnership if Ghlahn walks?

Please don't say that Tann! I'm for real here; I'm really enjoying this game and would like the chance to make it work. I've got a new character in the works to be the netrunner or medtech. There is a way we can make all of this work, let's not give up just yet.

I'm just throwing this out there before people start walking away from the party completely: I'm up for (and would like to, actually) change to a new character that can do the netrunning and medteching parts. Got no clue if multiclassing is a thing in Cyberpunk or not, but maybe take that into consideration before the whole team breaks up.