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ALL THE BRICKS - Prologue: What Rough Beast
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<blockquote data-quote="TillForPie" data-source="post: 6877638" data-attributes="member: 6762758"><p>Faust, Herald, Lum, and the partially translucent shape of Death Otter make their way into the terminal. Woodley doesn't put up a fuss and allows herself to be guided out by Herald. </p><p></p><p>Herald and Lum are attracting looks. They're both obviously trouble, not to mention seriously injured. Death Otter's semi-transparent shape doesn't go entirely unnoticed, either, but nobody's screaming bloody murder about it when they spot her. Tall nail gets the hammer and all that. The runner to blend in the best is Faust, who seems to blend in a little <em>too</em> well and has trouble getting through the crowd. People are constantly walking right into him - he might as well be invisible.</p><p></p><p>The terminal steps open into a small food court. Off-white tile and bright yellow lighting makes everything look sickly. The group passes through a flavorful cloud of steam venting in great waves from the walk-up counter of All Halal Caesar, the best imitation meat joint this side of Newark Bay. The runners circumnavigate a posse of NYPD Inc. cops crowded around a table eating Nukit soyburgers. An elderly ork in a stained apron nearly runs Otter over with his pushcart, mysterious-smelling links of brownish-red matter swinging from hooks - whatever they are, they're 2n each. There's a long line of business casuals at Nacho Mama and the runners have to shove their way by. The people are all bleary-eyed and it's obvious that everyone is either chemically stimulated or sedated depending on their needs.</p><p></p><p>The tunnel beyond the food court is lined with storefronts, all of them with Augmented Reality Object (AROs) mascots jockeying for the attention of passersby. Every conceivable surface (including the floor and ceiling) is covered in advertisement videos for the newest movies, video games, or energy drinks. Here the air is artificially scented like at most malls and everything smells like calming lavender. A harried-looking wageslave is shaking a commlink vending machine that won't give him the Meta Link he bought - a security roto-drone approaches and warns him to stop. A SINless mother is being told by a bored Vision Hut salesman that her credstick doesn't have enough for her daughter's corrective surgery. A tracked stall drone is selling virtual AR pets. A family of dwarves is leaving a Stuffer Shack with bags of groceries. A morbidly obese Japanese troll guards the entrance to a strip club called BJ's.</p><p></p><p>Up ahead are the stairs leading to the street. The runners can wait for the van here in the tunnel or out on the sidewalk. Lum thinks it'll take about a minute to arrive.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="TillForPie, post: 6877638, member: 6762758"] Faust, Herald, Lum, and the partially translucent shape of Death Otter make their way into the terminal. Woodley doesn't put up a fuss and allows herself to be guided out by Herald. Herald and Lum are attracting looks. They're both obviously trouble, not to mention seriously injured. Death Otter's semi-transparent shape doesn't go entirely unnoticed, either, but nobody's screaming bloody murder about it when they spot her. Tall nail gets the hammer and all that. The runner to blend in the best is Faust, who seems to blend in a little [i]too[/i] well and has trouble getting through the crowd. People are constantly walking right into him - he might as well be invisible. The terminal steps open into a small food court. Off-white tile and bright yellow lighting makes everything look sickly. The group passes through a flavorful cloud of steam venting in great waves from the walk-up counter of All Halal Caesar, the best imitation meat joint this side of Newark Bay. The runners circumnavigate a posse of NYPD Inc. cops crowded around a table eating Nukit soyburgers. An elderly ork in a stained apron nearly runs Otter over with his pushcart, mysterious-smelling links of brownish-red matter swinging from hooks - whatever they are, they're 2n each. There's a long line of business casuals at Nacho Mama and the runners have to shove their way by. The people are all bleary-eyed and it's obvious that everyone is either chemically stimulated or sedated depending on their needs. The tunnel beyond the food court is lined with storefronts, all of them with Augmented Reality Object (AROs) mascots jockeying for the attention of passersby. Every conceivable surface (including the floor and ceiling) is covered in advertisement videos for the newest movies, video games, or energy drinks. Here the air is artificially scented like at most malls and everything smells like calming lavender. A harried-looking wageslave is shaking a commlink vending machine that won't give him the Meta Link he bought - a security roto-drone approaches and warns him to stop. A SINless mother is being told by a bored Vision Hut salesman that her credstick doesn't have enough for her daughter's corrective surgery. A tracked stall drone is selling virtual AR pets. A family of dwarves is leaving a Stuffer Shack with bags of groceries. A morbidly obese Japanese troll guards the entrance to a strip club called BJ's. Up ahead are the stairs leading to the street. The runners can wait for the van here in the tunnel or out on the sidewalk. Lum thinks it'll take about a minute to arrive. [/QUOTE]
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