Recent content by Lizaveta Isakova

NIGHT CITY - WESTBROOK POPLAR STREET - NEAR JIG-JIG STREET 2340 HOURS - THURSDAY As the Quartz erupted out of the dead-end that was Jig-Jig Street, it would be met without resistance -- at least, not from the front. In the moments it had taken Nico to slam his foot to the ground, the two gunmen...

Lizaveta regarded him curiously for a few moments, her eyebrows twitching together. There was plausible deniability in her expression. She could pretend not to know what he meant -- something lost in translation. She settled back into the banquette and fished for another cigarette. "That's what...

NIGHT CITY - WESTBROOK POPLAR STREET - NEAR JIG-JIG STREET 2337 HOURS - THURSDAY Lizaveta heard Arvin grunt and his breathing went distant as a buzz sounded on his side of the line. A moment later he said, "He is here. You saw the Quartz? Grey, the r660, yes? Is him. Wait." Lizka stifled an...

Lizaveta polished off her drink and set the empty glass down on the table. She moved it around the surface for a few moments, watching the ice swirl around. "You seem to be very concerned with my cleanliness, Detective, and I should be grateful for your concern, I think," she said, her voice...

NIGHT CITY - WESTBROOK POPLAR STREET - NEAR JIG-JIG STREET 2337 HOURS - THURSDAY Lizaveta Isakova didn't often work in the field. Her role as a fixer and information broker was usually more comfortable. She was more likely to get a tension headache from the repetitive beat of the music at the...

They were, in some ways, two peas in a pod. Most importantly -- to Night City, probably -- they were unaugmented. They were as God made them -- her titanium knee notwithstanding, which she overlooked because it was not really cyberware. Most importantly -- to them -- they were followers of all...

Lizaveta shut her eyes briefly. Covering up an eyeroll? Enjoying the music? Showing off her perfectly-applied eyeshadow? It could have been anything, really. An elegant thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of her nose momentarily before she took a breath and sat up straighter, lowering her...

The ex-ballerina waved the smoke away like Moses parting the Red Sea so she could look at the badge clearly. "Using you?" she echoed, her eyebrows lifting over her cool blue eyes. Her voice betrayed equal parts surprise and mirth. "I shouldn't be surprised that you'd view it just that way, in...

Lizaveta let a confidential smirk build over her lips. "The gentlemen and Moscow and I have an understanding," she told Dmitri quietly. At some subtle, unspoken question as to whether he could smoke, Lizka -- ever a gracious hostess, of course -- made a reciprocal motion basically begging him...

Lizaveta reclined ever-so-slightly against the faux-velvet banquette, allowing the high, channeled back to cradle her delicate form. She put a cigarette between her lips and lit up, allowing the glow to illuminate her face briefly as she took a drag, then drew it out, blowing smoke in the other...

Lizka let the little barb about what her post-bathing habits were pass, though she did offer the officer an enigmatic smile in response as she took a sip of her drink. She had expected the officer to discover her little ploy sooner or later. He was a bright, intelligent fellow, so perhaps that...

Lizaveta watched the proceedings; she had to admit that it seemed to be rather well-choreographed. And she would know, wouldn't she? The dancer took the bottle, examined it impassively for a moment, then shrugged. At first she turned to carry it over to the bar, but then stopped. Fixing him with...

Jazz wasn't really her thing, but music -- real music, not noise being spit out by fucking robots -- was a rarity in the hellscape that made up Night City, so she had to take it where she could. There was something about it, so unordered as to be almost unmusical, that she couldn't quite bring...

Lizaveta inclined her head, a movement that accentuated the swanlike grace of her neck, and she rolled her head this way and that, working out some tension there. "The information I have is not terribly in depth," she said apologetically. "Thorncroft is -- if you'll pardon the expression -- a...

The woman who approached didn't look like a prostitute, and while she had been prepared for that -- to an extent -- she was actually surprised at how little she looked like a prostitute. She wore a designer dress like she had been born to do it. Better than Lizaveta herself, who had been born...