05-04-2016, 04:58 AM
The digital dossier on Joon Yi and his operation was far from comprehensive, although it gave Hiro a few good starting points. First of which was a bar about forty minutes walk from the elevators, or so his map told him. Judging from the neighborhood, a forty minute walk at night in a light drizzle was a nice and easy way to end up in a gutter without any teeth, so Hiro ducked into a relatively safe looking alleyway. Ten minutes later (after accidentally scaring the shit out of a hobo sleeping in the corner), Hiro emerged on a copy of his sleek, powerful motorbike. He gunned the engine and it responded with a roar that tore through the gloomy hum of the lower tier.
Keeping his vehicle at a moderate speed as he cruised through the streets, kicking up pieces of paper in his wake, he read the personal file on Joon Yi and his associates, setting a silent alert if his lenses identified any of them in his field of view. Cleaver, as the smuggler was known, had a small crew between 4 and 8 men of mainly street thugs with one other individual involved in the business. Curiously, his only known alias was...
"Are you fucking kidding me? Mr. Sorry Sorry?" Hiro laughed to himself, and waved the dossier off his vision field. Just then, his HUD flashed red and the hacker looked in his rearview mirror. Coming up fast behind him were three other bikes, not nearly as fancy or new as his. The riders, though, they were a problem. Whooping and yelling, two of them whirled long chains above their heads while the third brandished a rudimentary sword above his head. They were gaining on the racing ronin, and he kicked the throttle further, nearing the top speed limit of 80 mph. His other hand lay on his sword hilt, ready to draw and unleash hell when the time was right. Going this fast, however, required a lot of concentration and weaving around debris and wrecks piled on the street, or the occasional tired vehicle plodding along with no regard for the bloodthirsty motor conflict occurring on the street. It slowed him down...too much.
The three riders pulled up alongside him, screaming above the noise of the road and the engines. "PULL OVER, FANCY BOY! OR WE'LL DO IT FOR YA! HA HA HA HA!" The speaker took a useless swipe at Hiro as he tried to get close enough to land a hit, but the only purpose it really served was to let his lackeys known it was time to shine. Scrapsword pulled further ahead and took up a position in front of Hiro, trying to block any evasive action he could take.
Long, clanking chains made vicious swipes at him from either side, the hacker ducking his head to avoid one that came too close. He let out a yell of pain as the thug on his left tagged him in the ribs with a deflected strike, but his reinforced jacket took most of the impact and prevented any broken bones. He had to get rid of this chain punks, or he'd soon be skittering across the pavement.
Hiro started weaving drunkenly left to right, scraping exhausts with one of his assailants. The man struggled to keep his bike's balance and still maintain enough momentum to swipe out with his chain, resulting in a less powerful attack towards the hacker samurai. Slow enough to grab, Hiro yanked the end of the chain out of it's arc and pulled hard, squeezing his own brake and slowing significantly. This had a desired effect, which was that the chainpunk on his right swerved sharply left, across Hiro's front wheel, and into the path of the second assailant.
Time slowed as both cycles crashed into each other, the two that had been boxing him no longer a threat as they skidded past the entrance to some sort of club. Two men who had been standing outside smoking watched as the wreck slid by them right into a parked taxi. Hiro zipped right by them, and focused his attention on his remaining pursuer, who by now was trying to accelerate ahead of the street samurai. Damn that speed limit, right?
Pulling up beside him, the reinforced glass katana came out of it's scabbard and across the front wheel of the adjacent bike. However, it wasn't enough. The tires were made of some sort of thick and heavy material. He'd have to puncture them if he wanted to slow the other bike. This maneuver almost cost him heavily, as the lead thug took the opening and sliced towards Hiro's head. The katana was brought up just barely in time to deflect the blow, and suffered some damage, glass chips whipping backwards in the wind. He stowed it back in it's sheath, the red light clicking in to show it had entered the repair cycle. Instead, he drew the entire locked blade and used the titanium weave scabbard as a long club to parry Scrapsword's blows.
They raced along the streets, blowing by parked cars and the odd pedestrian, heading up an on ramp to a poorly maintained skyway as they traded blows, sparks flying from each clash. "I WANT THAT BIKE, TOURIST!" The thug hollered as he sent another swipe towards the hacker. "WE RUN THE CYCLE GAME DOWN HERE!" Hiro countered with a block from his sheath and, sweat beading on his forehead, took a risk. He pulled his remaining hand off the steering column, and keeping balance with his knees, redoubled his blunt assault. The thug couldn't keep up with steering and defending with only one hand, and a particularly powerful blow from Hiro elicited a naaty sounding crunch and a scream of frustration from the thug as his sword dropped, arm useless. He peeled off and slowed down, shouting at the hacker as he faded from sight. "YOU'RE FUCKED NEXT TIME WE SEE YOU, TOURIST. THE TIER FOUR FALCONS ARE GONNA STOMP YOUR ASS IN!" He flipped him off with his remaining good arm, and Hiro sped off towards his actual destination.
Breathing heavily, adrenaline surging through his body, Hiro pumped a celebratory fist. That was..wow. Talk about excitement. Not that he was jacked up on violence and adrenaline...but he hadn't fought that well in a long time. Maybe there was something that had changed about him when he got here. He had been ready to kill that guy, and those others that had crashed, if not dead, were probably seriously hurt. But Hiro didn't feel too bad about it. He'd killed in real life, in self defense, and here, man, it was might makes right. Which is why it was good he wasn't a criminal attacking travelers on their motorbikes. No sir, he was an officer of the peace. A real John Lawman...just with a more unconventional sidearm. He ruminated on these new developments and how his life being threatened brought out a powerful new attitude. He really was feeling like an old time samurai..just a man, his sword, right and wrong.....
Keeping his vehicle at a moderate speed as he cruised through the streets, kicking up pieces of paper in his wake, he read the personal file on Joon Yi and his associates, setting a silent alert if his lenses identified any of them in his field of view. Cleaver, as the smuggler was known, had a small crew between 4 and 8 men of mainly street thugs with one other individual involved in the business. Curiously, his only known alias was...
"Are you fucking kidding me? Mr. Sorry Sorry?" Hiro laughed to himself, and waved the dossier off his vision field. Just then, his HUD flashed red and the hacker looked in his rearview mirror. Coming up fast behind him were three other bikes, not nearly as fancy or new as his. The riders, though, they were a problem. Whooping and yelling, two of them whirled long chains above their heads while the third brandished a rudimentary sword above his head. They were gaining on the racing ronin, and he kicked the throttle further, nearing the top speed limit of 80 mph. His other hand lay on his sword hilt, ready to draw and unleash hell when the time was right. Going this fast, however, required a lot of concentration and weaving around debris and wrecks piled on the street, or the occasional tired vehicle plodding along with no regard for the bloodthirsty motor conflict occurring on the street. It slowed him down...too much.
Quote:A Death Race Through Deserted Streets
The three riders pulled up alongside him, screaming above the noise of the road and the engines. "PULL OVER, FANCY BOY! OR WE'LL DO IT FOR YA! HA HA HA HA!" The speaker took a useless swipe at Hiro as he tried to get close enough to land a hit, but the only purpose it really served was to let his lackeys known it was time to shine. Scrapsword pulled further ahead and took up a position in front of Hiro, trying to block any evasive action he could take.
Long, clanking chains made vicious swipes at him from either side, the hacker ducking his head to avoid one that came too close. He let out a yell of pain as the thug on his left tagged him in the ribs with a deflected strike, but his reinforced jacket took most of the impact and prevented any broken bones. He had to get rid of this chain punks, or he'd soon be skittering across the pavement.
Hiro started weaving drunkenly left to right, scraping exhausts with one of his assailants. The man struggled to keep his bike's balance and still maintain enough momentum to swipe out with his chain, resulting in a less powerful attack towards the hacker samurai. Slow enough to grab, Hiro yanked the end of the chain out of it's arc and pulled hard, squeezing his own brake and slowing significantly. This had a desired effect, which was that the chainpunk on his right swerved sharply left, across Hiro's front wheel, and into the path of the second assailant.
Time slowed as both cycles crashed into each other, the two that had been boxing him no longer a threat as they skidded past the entrance to some sort of club. Two men who had been standing outside smoking watched as the wreck slid by them right into a parked taxi. Hiro zipped right by them, and focused his attention on his remaining pursuer, who by now was trying to accelerate ahead of the street samurai. Damn that speed limit, right?
Pulling up beside him, the reinforced glass katana came out of it's scabbard and across the front wheel of the adjacent bike. However, it wasn't enough. The tires were made of some sort of thick and heavy material. He'd have to puncture them if he wanted to slow the other bike. This maneuver almost cost him heavily, as the lead thug took the opening and sliced towards Hiro's head. The katana was brought up just barely in time to deflect the blow, and suffered some damage, glass chips whipping backwards in the wind. He stowed it back in it's sheath, the red light clicking in to show it had entered the repair cycle. Instead, he drew the entire locked blade and used the titanium weave scabbard as a long club to parry Scrapsword's blows.
They raced along the streets, blowing by parked cars and the odd pedestrian, heading up an on ramp to a poorly maintained skyway as they traded blows, sparks flying from each clash. "I WANT THAT BIKE, TOURIST!" The thug hollered as he sent another swipe towards the hacker. "WE RUN THE CYCLE GAME DOWN HERE!" Hiro countered with a block from his sheath and, sweat beading on his forehead, took a risk. He pulled his remaining hand off the steering column, and keeping balance with his knees, redoubled his blunt assault. The thug couldn't keep up with steering and defending with only one hand, and a particularly powerful blow from Hiro elicited a naaty sounding crunch and a scream of frustration from the thug as his sword dropped, arm useless. He peeled off and slowed down, shouting at the hacker as he faded from sight. "YOU'RE FUCKED NEXT TIME WE SEE YOU, TOURIST. THE TIER FOUR FALCONS ARE GONNA STOMP YOUR ASS IN!" He flipped him off with his remaining good arm, and Hiro sped off towards his actual destination.
Breathing heavily, adrenaline surging through his body, Hiro pumped a celebratory fist. That was..wow. Talk about excitement. Not that he was jacked up on violence and adrenaline...but he hadn't fought that well in a long time. Maybe there was something that had changed about him when he got here. He had been ready to kill that guy, and those others that had crashed, if not dead, were probably seriously hurt. But Hiro didn't feel too bad about it. He'd killed in real life, in self defense, and here, man, it was might makes right. Which is why it was good he wasn't a criminal attacking travelers on their motorbikes. No sir, he was an officer of the peace. A real John Lawman...just with a more unconventional sidearm. He ruminated on these new developments and how his life being threatened brought out a powerful new attitude. He really was feeling like an old time samurai..just a man, his sword, right and wrong.....
Quote:Hand of the Empire quest progress: 954 +1059 +1223 = 3236
![[Image: MZSDl2O.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/MZSDl2O.jpg)