Post by rantelope on Nov 12, 2011 20:33:08 GMT -5
"Chummer" Huh? What did you just call me?
Took me a minute to figure out what everyone was saying. I think I understand now.
I am shark bait.
The data port tells me that my name is Cheyenne V1.1
I don't even know if I'm supposed to exist. How did I get here? Who made me? Am I even real?
Somehow, I understand what's going on, like I've been here before. Well, somewhere near here, at least. I recognize things, but have no idea why. Am I reincarnated? More like reanimated.
There are parts of my body that don't feel real. There's metal inside of me, I can feel it. Whoever put me here had a plan, but I'm not sure they finished it. I'm stuck in a hell hole, and things are getting bad.
A large concrete wall with a massive rusting gate is in front of me, and since I know what's back on Shakedown Street... I don't want to go back again. My reputation haunts my every step, and the heat is on. Each corner I turn, I shudder to think there's a gang of thuggers waiting.
At first, it was no big deal, and I still don't have any problem taking down a bunch of thuggers. People are following me, but none of them want to give me a contact or datafile. Just a bunch of gang rats trying to take advantage of a woman in the night. But now, everyone wants my skull on a spike.
The guard tower told me to get a job, but noone is hiring. I've knocked on every door in the slum, against my better judgement, and even met a bunch of criminals in the red light district. They won't talk to me anymore, beyond a scowl or shrug. Maybe they're waiting for me to prove myself.
Can't find a job, so all I can do is hope the next helpless innocent I save has got a V-Chip that will help me past the gate, and then maybe off of this island. I'm pretty desperate. I've resorted to killing people and selling their ammo to a shady character in an unmarked building south of Mastiff's. I'm shooting men in the face, just to make enough yen to sleep it off and wake up to more of the same.
Spent my last credits on some crammers, but ended up on another killing spree just to make sure I could afford enough ammo to... go on another killing spree.
The Matrix wasn't easy to crack, but I managed to find some paydata every now and then. It must be a closed-circuit because there's nothing but AzTek servers. Nobody is buying, but I keep trying... Hoped I might find the gate code or some info that would allow me to call a mole.
My life is in shambles. I'm a murderer, and I justify it by thinking the next victim will put me one ladder rung closer to freedom. I'm not stupid, there is no freedom. But if I can get to the NBZ, well, I've got opportunities.
When I'm drowning my sorrows in the backroom of the Screeching Raven, Korphin tells me I'll meet my man. But I don't feel like a lucky lady right now. Everyone whispers like I'm toxic allergic.
For frak's sake, I'd even work in that factory if it meant I could find a different flea-ridden bed to sleep in. I've been studying my electronics and practicing martial arts in my hotel room, but it's no bigger than a coffin. I've outgrown this block.
Should I bring more attention to myself? I figure if I vaporize every hooligan in this zone, somebody at Aztek has gotta notice my potential. Right now, I'm all alone... staring at a wall.
Father Jameson at Holy Trinity confided a secret. Although it was cryptic, he said something about putting my soul to rest. He told me to pray to Crese. Never heard that name before, but it's somehow... familiar. It sounds like something I'd name my starship if I could get off this planet like the lucky ones.
Who am I kidding? It's no safer amongst the stars, but standing on the docks looking out at the raging sea of poison, I dream that my story doesn't end next to a barrel of radioactive waste.
Am I a mistake? Did they program me to tear out my eyeballs and surrender to the implant doctor with his dirty tools and dim lights and bloody laser table? Was I a momentary whim? An experiment that wasn't worth finishing? Or did some sick kid hack me out of the Mars mainframe when nobody was looking in the middle of the night?
Anything is possible. And blood will be shed here until the whole world hears of my massacre. Let not one living soul walk these streets until I get over that wall. I will build a ladder of bones.
When I am free, I will insert my avatar on the Matrix, and guide a squadron of Knights to punish those that kept me locked up. Let them call upon me for the foul intestines of AzTek, and we will deliver them to justice.
Did I write my own path, or was it given to me? I don't remember a childhood. Just an awakening, and a gory nightmare. The wall. The wall. There is a gate! But, alas, it is closed to me. On purpose? Who's purpose? What is my purpose? I have none.
There is no other explanation.
I am a glitch.
Took me a minute to figure out what everyone was saying. I think I understand now.
I am shark bait.
The data port tells me that my name is Cheyenne V1.1
I don't even know if I'm supposed to exist. How did I get here? Who made me? Am I even real?
Somehow, I understand what's going on, like I've been here before. Well, somewhere near here, at least. I recognize things, but have no idea why. Am I reincarnated? More like reanimated.
There are parts of my body that don't feel real. There's metal inside of me, I can feel it. Whoever put me here had a plan, but I'm not sure they finished it. I'm stuck in a hell hole, and things are getting bad.
A large concrete wall with a massive rusting gate is in front of me, and since I know what's back on Shakedown Street... I don't want to go back again. My reputation haunts my every step, and the heat is on. Each corner I turn, I shudder to think there's a gang of thuggers waiting.
At first, it was no big deal, and I still don't have any problem taking down a bunch of thuggers. People are following me, but none of them want to give me a contact or datafile. Just a bunch of gang rats trying to take advantage of a woman in the night. But now, everyone wants my skull on a spike.
The guard tower told me to get a job, but noone is hiring. I've knocked on every door in the slum, against my better judgement, and even met a bunch of criminals in the red light district. They won't talk to me anymore, beyond a scowl or shrug. Maybe they're waiting for me to prove myself.
Can't find a job, so all I can do is hope the next helpless innocent I save has got a V-Chip that will help me past the gate, and then maybe off of this island. I'm pretty desperate. I've resorted to killing people and selling their ammo to a shady character in an unmarked building south of Mastiff's. I'm shooting men in the face, just to make enough yen to sleep it off and wake up to more of the same.
Spent my last credits on some crammers, but ended up on another killing spree just to make sure I could afford enough ammo to... go on another killing spree.
The Matrix wasn't easy to crack, but I managed to find some paydata every now and then. It must be a closed-circuit because there's nothing but AzTek servers. Nobody is buying, but I keep trying... Hoped I might find the gate code or some info that would allow me to call a mole.
My life is in shambles. I'm a murderer, and I justify it by thinking the next victim will put me one ladder rung closer to freedom. I'm not stupid, there is no freedom. But if I can get to the NBZ, well, I've got opportunities.
When I'm drowning my sorrows in the backroom of the Screeching Raven, Korphin tells me I'll meet my man. But I don't feel like a lucky lady right now. Everyone whispers like I'm toxic allergic.
For frak's sake, I'd even work in that factory if it meant I could find a different flea-ridden bed to sleep in. I've been studying my electronics and practicing martial arts in my hotel room, but it's no bigger than a coffin. I've outgrown this block.
Should I bring more attention to myself? I figure if I vaporize every hooligan in this zone, somebody at Aztek has gotta notice my potential. Right now, I'm all alone... staring at a wall.
Father Jameson at Holy Trinity confided a secret. Although it was cryptic, he said something about putting my soul to rest. He told me to pray to Crese. Never heard that name before, but it's somehow... familiar. It sounds like something I'd name my starship if I could get off this planet like the lucky ones.
Who am I kidding? It's no safer amongst the stars, but standing on the docks looking out at the raging sea of poison, I dream that my story doesn't end next to a barrel of radioactive waste.
Am I a mistake? Did they program me to tear out my eyeballs and surrender to the implant doctor with his dirty tools and dim lights and bloody laser table? Was I a momentary whim? An experiment that wasn't worth finishing? Or did some sick kid hack me out of the Mars mainframe when nobody was looking in the middle of the night?
Anything is possible. And blood will be shed here until the whole world hears of my massacre. Let not one living soul walk these streets until I get over that wall. I will build a ladder of bones.
When I am free, I will insert my avatar on the Matrix, and guide a squadron of Knights to punish those that kept me locked up. Let them call upon me for the foul intestines of AzTek, and we will deliver them to justice.
Did I write my own path, or was it given to me? I don't remember a childhood. Just an awakening, and a gory nightmare. The wall. The wall. There is a gate! But, alas, it is closed to me. On purpose? Who's purpose? What is my purpose? I have none.
There is no other explanation.
I am a glitch.
