STREET WAR Hate Night Firefight | OPEN TO ALL | Red Chrome Legion

[Cyrus "Risers"]

Red neon pumped into night-veiled streets - an arterial spray that bathed the ravenous, howling crowd in gory light. With twisted ecstasy they writhed, boots crashing and fists flying as they circled the altar to which they sacrificed their old, soulless existence. They'd come as believers, they'd come as tourists, they'd come as the desperate, and the broken, and the vulnerable - now they ripped through the darkness as one enraged voice. From Kennedy North to East Street and from Charter Street to Creek Loop, the black jackets and red laces violated the sacred rust and garbage that the Cultural Poison had erected to keep them enslaved. Like tendrils of primordial hate, the Red Chromers sprawled outward from the churning pit of sweat and blood and gnashing teeth circling center stage.

Risers could see it all from atop the bones of a dead corporate housing project, the dying cherry of a cigarette floating in the dark space beneath his burning red eyes. The turn out had been far greater than he'd imagined it would be, @Evi "Dustoff" Ashford had truly outdone herself this time. Before the sun had set, dozens of locals had shown up. By the time the stage was erected, there were hundreds of Lacers and True Believers setting up makeshift bars and merch tables. Before the pigs even realized what was happening, Double Tap was blasting the streets of Night City with their opening set.

The sun was long gone by the time the first cruisers were brave enough to turn up - and by then it didn't matter, there were hundreds of bodies between them and any hope of putting an end to the show. They tried to flex nuts after that, waking up any badge in Wastson who was dumb enough to answer the phone and pulling them in to run security. Did that stop it? Fuck no, it made it even worse. As soon as the armbands and sheet-jockies down in Vista heard that PD was gearing up for a riot, shit, you couldn't buy better marketing.

The crowd poured in faster and faster, running past police barricades and pouring in through the husks of buildings and from the shadows of alleys. Wasn't long after Double Tap finished their set that the first screams - real screams - started out over in Kabuki proper.

Then the billboards and screens hanging throughout South Watson began shifting red - the mindless corporatist sludge melting away, replaced by guerilla-streamed footage of the show that started blasting through every speaker the pirate medias and amateur net-runners could get their hands on. When the stage went dark and Krash came out to start their act, the air filled with howls and you couldn't tell what was pain and what was pleasure.

You could feel the whole fucking city pull back in fear.

The badges had tried to push in then, so Riser's sent out some of the CDS boys to set up barricades of their own. Pigs were bold, but it was hard to convince a riot line to start banging shields at a wall of burning cars and heavily armed fanatics. That meant the lines had mostly stabilized into a thin rope of flashing blue lights - pulled to its absolute limit - desperately struggling to contain a writhing ball of darkness that pushed back against the city with every strum of a guitar.


"What you thinking, Bossman?" Risers' concentration was suddenly broken as Faust walked up beside him, gently tapping him on the shoulder with an offered replacement for his dying cigarette. Exhaling into the shadows, Risers flicked the dying cherry into the street below and took the offered cig.


"Thinking it's fucking glorious, look at this shit." Risers indicated to the police lines in the street below, then lit the cigarette and took a drag, "City isn't gonna know what fucking hit it. You get all the cars in place?"


"Yep, and loaded so heavy they couldn't take a speedbump" Risers couldn't see, but he could hear the smile on his right hand's face, "when you want to hit it?"


"Not yet, let Northman have his fun. We want this crowd nice and pissed for the stomp - more heat on them the better for us" as if summoned by a spell, the front-man of Krash let a flying kick land him on the very edge of the stage - red-laced boots hanging just over the lip as his band shook the streets with a long instrumental.


A large, bearded man with a broad chest - Northman was the very stereotype the lib media types loved to rag on - and he fed off that image almost as much as he fed off the crowd. Raising a fist in the air, the singer put the mic to his lips and screamed.



"Ar̅̅ͦͩ̓e ͦ̋ȳͪou̾̌̐̔̂ m̋o͗̆͂th̎͂̍ͩerf̉̃͛͌ucͥ͑̆͂kerͥͨͦ̅s ́̀̄fͨee̍̍͒͛̀li͛nͮͬg ̊͗̓̓thiͭ̃͊s ̂͌̅ͥshi̓̈ͫ̾t?̿̔ͤ!͑" The streets shook as the crowd's voices roared in response, "SOͤ͗̂͌ ̇ͮ̾͛̚IF ͂͒̾̑ͪ͐ͧ́YOUͥ̀ͨ͊̔ͣ̈́ ͬͬAR͛͛ͤÉͦ̃͗͐̃ FE̎̿̈́̉̏ͤ̎̊ELI̾͐̏̆̽Nͧͥ͑̐G ́I̐͑̃̎̔ͬ̈́T, ͭ̐ͩ̐ͮ̐̄W̓HY̽͛ͦͬ ͮ̉ͯ͆ͯͮTHE͆̈́ͬ̑̓̎ͪ̏ FU̓̈́̇͊͑̓C̐̌̚K ͬ͗D̒ͥ͆̏ͨ̒̽ON'͌̊ͯ͑̇̅ͯT Yͨ̂̊ͣ̈Oͦ̓͌̔ͦU Lͨ̊ͦ̓̋͑͌ET ̎ͭͣ̉ͣ͛̋T̎̅HE̓̎͌ ̅ͣ̄̍͗̿PIGͬ̽ͮ̔̀̀̌̇S H̿ͧ̆̽͐ͥEͬ͐̓̚AR̔!́̊̈́ͫͬ̿ͭ?ͭ" even louder now and in the distance, Risers could see a new barrage of beer cans and bricks pelt the police lines.




"Rͮ̄aiͣ̈͛͆̚se̒̍̎ͦ͌̈́̇̇ y͂͋ͫ̔̍̄ͬ̈͛̚ou̓͋̾͛̍ͫͪ̏ͥ̔̏r ̈͗ͩ̇ͬ̑̋̂̍ͬ́mi͆̅̿͊ͮͫ̂͐͐ͥddͤ̒̀̐̃͊ͤ͛ͮleͥͫ̒̾̒͐ f̅̐̽͒uckͧ̉in̔̏ͭ̀͗g ͭͣ̊ͩ̂́ͩ̇fiͮ̓̀̒ͦ̃͊͊̽ͨngͣ͐͗͐̄́ͧ͛ͧͫ͌er̿́̈̉ͣ̿͐͛ͯ̑̋s!̏̾̄͋ͥ̃́ͦ̊̄ L̍ͥͪͣ̓̉͛͌̑et̏ͩ̇͋ͫ̅ t̽̾̓́hem̈ͨ k̔͂͗̾͆noͯͩ̓̎͋ͦ̂́w ̃͋̾̉̋̂̒ͯͣ͆weͪ̋̔ͫͫͦ̐̒ͬͬ͂ l͒͂̃̌̎̄͆ͩ̽̊̓ivͨ̏̑̑ͧ̉͒ͥ̈́̎e ͩ̎̈̽̀͑ͨ̓͂fȫ̍̎̒̾r ͒̊̀ͦthĩ̎s ̾̊͋ͮ̌sh̋̇͗̒̓̇ͥ̇it͒͆̈͊ͫͫͯ̐͛̔! ͪͨͩͥ̉ͤ̾͛̽ͮ̓Weͦ̀̋ͣͥͣͥ̓̏͒̚ aͬ̃ͬ̊̎ͨͬͤͮ͗re͐̽̈̾̔͋͂ͩ̄ b͊ͭ́ͭͯͨorͥ́̓̒n i͒ͮn ̇̃ͦ͌ͣth͊ͤ̐ͦ̃̓̓ͯis͌̂̊ͩ̿͊̓̐͛̒ f̿͌͌ͪ̂͋̓̽̂ͪ̎uc̏ͧ̉̏͛ͨ̃̈́ͨ̒͗kí̊̽̏̓̉͂ͩͣ͗ng̈́̑͋̃̊ͯͬ́ͤ f͐̔̆̈͗̐ir̊̉̇ͩe!̒ The crowd raised their fists and middle fingers high - then Northman reached down just below one of the amps sitting on the edge of the stage. Suddenly two bodies fell from the rafters with a bone chilling crack. It took even Riser's a moment to realize they weren't actual corpses dangling from the end of the nooses, but instead stuffed dolls roughly the size of a man - one dressed in an old NCPD uniform, complete with hat, and the other a crude, offensive depiction of someone bio-sculpted into an exotic.


The Crowd roared as Northman flipped off the effigy first - then turned his hand high into the air and screamed at a passing police AV, "T͗̾̓hisͤ̔ ͛̄is ̇̿͆ourͤ̂ ͩ̉fuc̓̐̊kiñ̐g̈́ͥ ci͒̄̔ty!͆̆ " the drums beat hard and Northman spun, his scream turning right back into the final lyrics of the song and suddenly the air itself was fire. The Crowd went wild, the churning pit growing larger as countless bodies joined the mosh. They were almost ready now, soon that hate would need somewhere to go and the perfect spot was just down the street.

Silently, Risers flicked a message to Dust with a blink of an eye and a thought.

Next song - get them ready to stomp.

THIS THREAD TAKES PLACE SIMULTANIOUSLY WITH A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Red Chrome Legion is holding a massive illegal concert in Kabuki with a turnout of over a thousand - a crowd made up of active members and locals who heard of the show and found themselves intoxicated by the hate on display.

NCPD is overwhelmed by the turnout and is unable to contain the show that is quickly becoming riotous.

Feel free to join and do your best to save Waston from the fascist menace! Perhaps you are a resident trying to prepare for the inevitable looting, an NCPD officer doing their best to prepare for the incoming brawl, a rockerboy here to crack fascist skulls, or just in the wrong place at the wrong time!

Have fun and fight the bad guys!


Please be aware that this thread will use posting order based on when you entered the thread. If someone doesn't post within 48 hours, they may be skipped.

I.C Coordination on storylines is encouraged! ​

 

[Evi "Dustoff" Ashford]

It was always something else, watching a show come together. This one was even bigger than the last, probably the largest crowd to date - and it had all come together damn near perfectly. It might not have been the whole city turning out, but there were more than enough bodies to make themselves a problem for just about anyone that stood in their way, and that went double for the police lines. Already she'd seen a couple badges hit the ground after taking a brick to the skull, and nothing had even really started yet.

Evi had watched the first half of the concert unfold from up on stage, and then spent the rest of the time so far in the effects stand a few hundred feet away, separated from the crowd by about a half dozen feet on the elevated platform. It was the perfect position to not only coordinate the thrashing mob below, but also watch the theatrics unfold onstage. Either Trench or Eight-Squared had off-handledly mentioned some additions to their set around five minutes before they went on stage, which gave her just enough time to be annoyed at the lack of communication and not much else. Hopefully it would be something reasonable.

In all, the hanging effigies were tamer than what she'd been expecting. Northman would get her silent thanks at that moment, but not much else. She joined the crowd in flipping off the police AV as it soared overhead, and it was in the next few seconds Risers' message came through. Briefly she looked off in the direction she imagined him to be watching from, before sending off her reply. // Heard. //

It would just be a flickering of the stage lights at first; enough to finally get Northman's attention over the draw of the crowd and his own ego. When his only acknowledgement was to blow a kiss in her direction, she gave him the same middle finger she'd given the pigs earlier and rolled her eyes. His only saving grace was the fact that he was smart enough to only pull shit like that when Risers was somewhere far away, and when she was in a good enough mood that it only irritated her for as long as it took the moment to pass.

As the familiar thrumming introduction of the next song echoed into the night, she shot off a text to one of the True Believers she'd met with before the show who'd helped make sure they had enough iron and other makeshift weapons to go around once it came time to get the stomp started. The beginning of the eventual chaos was the same coordinated and organized crowd work it always was, and it meant she didn't have to do much else other than give the go signal and watch it unfold. For everything else about them, Northman and the rest of Krash knew how to put on a fucking good show and get a mob riled up, two things that were central to everything they were doing here tonight.

The rest of the pieces were just about ready to come together, too. With just another blink Evi sent off a status update to Risers. // Almost ready. You set? // It wasn't a question that needed asking, but these next few minutes had to be carefully coordinated. The fuse was lit, and now it was only a matter of time before it all exploded and the real fun started.

 

[Vigilant]

The bloody red lights were blinding, the anger of the music filling the crowd with a vitriolic violence, the smell of... a lot. Drugs, exhaust fumes, vomit, sweat, all with a bit of a burnt electric tinge too it. I was deep in the shit having joined the party, I knew. Luckily I had no shortage of availabiliy to my wardrobe for this OP, and after a little bit of effort I looked like a resident of Kabuki, though maybe a little less run down. The Japanese streetwear got me some looks, but for a hate gang the Legion seemed to put their love of the music over any attempt to stop me from getting in, and I was far from the only 'shmuck local' who'd wandered in.

I'd heard of Night City's infamous street concerts, but this was like another world from what I'd seen so far in my short sojourn to this wretched place. Walking down Kennedy Avenue felt like I was seeing the full force of the neon and chrome that tried to cover up the squalor. Felt fitting for a group of neo-fascists. As I'd come to understand their brand of hate was nothing new to this city. Anti-corporate rage without any semblance of an idea what they'd do if they ripped it all down. A tale as old as time. Yet as I looked out across the moshing street it was getting harder and harder to deny them a piece of my mind. After all, the mission in NC was to pacify, to prepare for reunification. This... felt like anything but. RCL had garnered themselves a following, and incidentally they'd been the first to pop up on my radar when I'd arrived in NC. In just a few years they'd outshone gangs twice their size, and were far more organized than reports had suggested ten to twenty years ago. A serious threat, according to the chief of the NCPD. I'd wanted to focus my attention on what I'd known arriving, heavily armed gangs like Maelstrom and Sixth Street, but now I understood why there was so much worry on the force regarding the Legion.

Anyone could feel it in the vibrations, in the swelling frenzy. Something was going to get out of hand. I was already certain I'd heard shots fired in the crowd, drowned by the sound of the band. Already the police had been fighting to get in. Poor bastards having to deal with this shit on one of these nights. It was no job I'd have signed up for, and yet here I was bobbing my head along to the writhing of a pit of snakes...

 

[Vex Kiranova]

"You know they might have a few good points." Nyx's voice bubbled in his mind in its usual invasive fashion. "I'm not a big fan of the oppression and genocide thing, but there's something to be said about the benefits of autocracy."

Vex was standing on a balcony half a block away from the stage. A sea of souls roiled between him and the band twenty feet below. He leaned over the edge of the balcony, arms hanging lazily below as he took in the spectacle. "They killed half the people in mom's country back in the day. Called us untermensch. If things went their way all of the old world from Holland to Vladivostok would be a German colony. Whatever good points they might have don't mean shit to me." Dismissive venom bled from his words, his rancor burning further with each growl of the guitar.

"I was more referring to the Italians, not the Germans, but-"

"Same shit, different branding."

"The Soviets weren't much better."

"Not having this convo Nyx. They're fucked and I'm not changing my mind." His thoughts went back to the junkyard, when that asshole (@Cyrus "Risers") had put a bullet though his hip. It'd ended up being a relatively simple thing to treat at the end of the day, but the fuckhead had still shot him without even the smallest courtesy of giving a name. Nyx and the jackboots had figured out the identity of the gang at the very least, and in the days of healing that followed, she'd heard news of a show on the net.

They'd perused, asked around, met a Russian girl that happened to live in one of the megabuildings a block away from the show, and made nice. Didn't take much effort for Nyx to develop a full profile on the girl, and for Vex to approach her at a dingy shithole bar and offer her favorite drink. Nyx fed him his lines and Vex played the part of the actor all too well, said everything the girl wanted to her, made himself out to be the perfect man.

She'd invited him to her place the following day, the day of the concert, and he could only hope that the pizza he'd left on her table would be worthwhile forgiveness for the sedative he'd injected into her neck when she'd moved to kiss him. There was enough coursing through her veins now that nothing would wake her, not even the cacophony of the concert.

He glanced back to where she lay on the couch and sipped at the beer he'd welcomed himself to from her fridge. "How long's she gonna be out?"

"Couple hours at least." Vex heard a click and felt his jacket shifting as Nyx's drone detached from its housing within and sputtered out in tiny blue micro-jets. The silver skull, barely the size of a fist, fluttered around Vex like a spasmatic halo, green photoreceptors whirring as it took in the excess. "Her name was Zannah, right?" She spoke in realspace now via the drone's vox.

"Probably," Vex took another sip, fished in his pocket, and produced a small vape-pen that he took a long drag from. He let the vapor linger in his lungs as the cops began to show up in force. It expelled from his lips in a glittering cloud of silver-gray chemicals, the familiar euphoric heat building in his chest as the drug bonded with his blood.

"I think this is a really bad idea. We should just go home; Wilma's probably worried and I doubt you're gonna find this guy amidst all this shit." Nyx's drone lowered down to eye level and peered into his. "I thought we didn't kill. I really didn't think you'd be one for the revenge plot."

Vex's lips pulled back in a defensive snarl. "I'm not here to kill him, just repay the favor. Knock some sense into that asshole for shooting at randos, maybe take some compensation when I do. He owes me a few hundred eds for the stitches. Besides, this is looking like it's going to explode. Might be room for opportunity."

"Room for us to get trampled, more like."

"That's why we're up here. You really don't need to be so negative."

"I just want you to slow down. We haven't taken a breath since we got to this city. Every night it's drinking, or shooting, or conniving, or some other bullshit! Can't we sit down and get a beer?"

Vex clicked his tongue and wiggled the beer bottle between his fingertips. "That's what we're doing right now."

"In preparation for an unplanned solo attempt at robbing some incognito neo-nazi, while he's surrounded by a horde of his friends, ass-deep in their territory." A pause, "And I must say again, to remind you how stupid this is, solo." The drone shifted from side to side as if she were shaking her head. "Beyond reckless. Wilma should be here."

The crowd howled as the band prepped the next song. Vex sighed, "I'm not dragging her into dangerous 'biz if I don't have to. Fact of the matter is we don't have enough to pay off Anders and keep your 'soft from going haywire right now. If there were other gigs I'd take 'em." Vex took another rip off his vape and fought the urge to cough his lungs out. It burned when he spoke. "But there aren't, we don't have the connects, and I know these assholes have to be swimming in 'eds to put on a show like this. You might call it reckless but I'm playing the best I can with the hand we were dealt."

"You just don't want to split the eddies." Nyx countered, "Being greedy. Arrogant."

"Listen," Vex turned bodily to face the drone, "I came here to listen to some loud trash, settle a score, and make a payout, not to attend some weird robotherapy session. Just watch my back, I'll watch yours, we'll wait for an opportunity and play it by ear. Усё будзе добра. Ты паводзіш сябе як мая маці. // Everything is going to be fine; you're acting like my mother."

Nyx held her invisible tongue and turned to watch the show. She only hoped her worries wouldn't be vindicated and that they'd be safe asleep back on the floor of @Wilma F. Darcy's apartment by the end of the night, hopefully a few thousand eddies richer.

 

[Cyrus "Risers"]

Northman POV
General Tag:
@Evi "Dustoff" Ashford , @Vex Kiranova , @Vigilant​

All at once the night was black, pulses of neon red retreating from the shadows - the stage and lights all across Watson suddenly went black. Murmurs washed over the crowd. Confusion. Disappointment.​

Anger. Northman peered out over the crowd, watching as red and blue lights bathed them from above. In the flashes he could see the hate in their eyes and the scowls on their faces. He felt a rush, one that started in his hands and washed over him until he could have sworn he felt himself get a little hard.

This was his favorite part. The part where he spoke and the world shifted.

He brought the microphone up to his smile and called to the mob from the shadows, "You fuckers thought this shit was just a fucking GAME?!" suddenly the backup generators the band had brought kicked on and a single spotlight roared to life - illuminating Northman in a hellish glow from below. "Are you sons-of-bitches okay with being SLAVES?! Do we need any motherfucking MAYOR telling us what to DO?!"

The crowd booed. No, more than booed. They screamed. Roared. Howled. Raged. "Do we need some fucking dog-fucking exotics poisoning our futures?! Do we accept their fucking cultural pathogens?!" fervor. Blind rage. They stomped. They barked like animals.

"That's fucking right! This isn't a pussy-ass pop show! This is a fucking rally! This is a fucking army assembling! We don't need peace, we need warriors! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY WARRIORS AT?!" shouts, screams and hands slapped to chests before being thrown out at an age-old angle of hate and violence "We don't need fucking Asia-Slop, we don't need their fucking rice paddies! We don't need their zoo-humping degenerates! It's time they packed the fuck up and went the fuck home!"

"So get off your asses! They're down the street! A titty bar that lets the whole fucking zoo inside, do we need that on our FUCKING STREETS?!" a resounding "no" that shook the city. Throughout the crowd, prepositioned True Believers started the march out of the concert grounds and towards the police lines, "Then go and stomp out the cultural poisons! Blaze a path for the coming of the Great Caesar! Because we don't need a corrupt city tonight! What we need..."

Bricks, fire bombs, gunshots erupted across the police line. Suddenly the whole crowd surged, some in fear, others in anticipation. Then the night was full of rage and music as Krash played their last song,

"...IS A TWENTY FIRST CENTURY DEATH SQUAD ANTHEM!"​

Risers' POV
General Tag
​

Suddenly the ropes stretched against the crowd lurched, red and blue lights disappearing behind fire and encroaching shadows. The pigs rushed in to try and hold it back, lines of badges in gladiator-like armor marching down the streets with batons in front and rifles in back. Already the screams had begun drowning out the music, even from up in the high stories of the abandoned apartments. Risers could see the streams of Lacers forcing open doors and flooding into the apartments adjacent to the show, no doubt doing what they were best at to those inside.​

"
Northman might be dumb as a bag of shit" Faust murmured, "but he does know how to rile up the kids."

Risers scoffed, "Because that dumb-fuck is a man-child, shouting at the lacers from a stage is about all that fuck is good for" the whole cultural wing was full of people who hardly lifted a finger for the movement, as far as he was concerned. Krash, DoubleTap - all of them loved to soak in the cash but hated leaving their little club houses. None of that mattered right now though, they'd played their part and now it was time for CDS to play theirs.

"Time to get bloody" Risers said, checking the chamber of his rifle and finding a live round, "let's hit it."

Faust nodded, his eyes glowing red for the briefest moment before an explosion rang out. Then another. And another. Car bombs placed throughout the city in spots chosen by Faust when he was with Dust earlier in the week. One by one they detonated throughout Kabuki and Little China - shooting pillars of fire high into the air and shaking the very foundations of the sector. Eight in total, each blowing chunks of business into oblivion and incinerating anyone unlucky enough to be standing nearby.

But the damage wasn't the primary goal. It was the chaos. The panic. The fires. It was to spread NCPD thin for what was to come next.

As the bombs lit up the night, the CDS militiamen jogged back down to the bottom floor of the building to their waiting transportation... ​

NPC True Beliver POV
Tag to: @Vigilant
​

As the music lit his veins ablaze, "Steeltoe" as his friends called him, breathed deep of the stim-cannister. The chemicals danced with his rage, mixing into a cocktail of fire that pumped through him like a righteous fury. This was what The Movement was all about. Action. Fucking up everyone who made his life a fucking flaming shit every day of his life. The bugs and parasites that told him he had to obey. The fucks who told him he had to tolerate. Tolerance and love is what got them here to this corrupt hell. Only hate was going to claw them back out of it.

"Alright boys - and very, smoking hot girls" he turned to his assembled gang of prospects among the crowd of hundreds, his chrome-fanged smile flicking to the two women among them. One licked her lips, the other flipped him off - her tune would change once she was laced. He'd make sure of that.

"Tonight is going to be big for you. Got the word from up top that anyone who makes bones tonight is in - no questions asked. All I need to do is see it" he smiled at the women again. He had already decided that how lonely he was feeling in the morning would dictate how good his memory was. "Each of you is gonna earn your blood tonight, so lets get going, don't want the whole stomp to go by without you."

The gaggle of prospects flinched when the pillars of fire spat up somewhere in the distance - windows rattling as the shockwaves roared overhead.

Steeltoe didn't. He'd been told to expect some bangs tonight - he just wished he'd been blooded into CDS already. They had all the real fun. "Don't be pussies! Come on!" he pushed one of the male prospects and, just then, he spotted a flash of color in the crowd.

@Vigilant was bobbing through the surging crowd, blonde hair falling in locks down his neon asia-pop clothes. "Look! Right there, that dog-eating fuck right there!" he jabbed his finger through the darkness toward the man, "first pair of laces and we didn't even need to leave the concert!"

The prospects all looked at each other moment. Steeltoe taught them what hesitation got you by hitting one of the males as hard as he could. His bald head hit the pavement with a crack, a rain of teeth bouncing across the street. "You don't wear that shit in our hood! Stomp the fucker, NOW!"

No one else hesitated. With concerned cries of war, the men and women charged through the crowd - pushing other skinheads aside as they charged toward their target.

​

THIS THREAD TAKES PLACE SIMULTANIOUSLY WITH A NIGHT TO REMEMBER


Red Chrome Legion is holding a massive illegal concert in Kabuki with a turnout of over a thousand - a crowd made up of active members and locals who heard of the show and found themselves intoxicated by the hate on display.


NCPD is overwhelmed by the turnout and is unable to contain the show that is quickly becoming riotous.


Feel free to join and do your best to save Waston from the fascist menace! Perhaps you are a resident trying to prepare for the inevitable looting, an NCPD officer doing their best to prepare for the incoming brawl, a rockerboy here to crack fascist skulls, or just in the wrong place at the wrong time!


Have fun and fight the bad guys!




Please be aware that this thread will use posting order based on when you entered the thread. If someone doesn't post within 48 hours, they may be skipped.


I.C Coordination on storylines is encouraged! ​

​

​

​

 

[Evi "Dustoff" Ashford]

It all happened nearly simultaneously just as the clock struck midnight. When the lights across the entire district went out, she could feel the crowd holding its breath. The second Northman began his call to arms, the energy shifted. All the anger and hate and primal rage that had been riled up tonight suddenly had a direction to be pointed in, and victims to inflict itself upon - a purpose. Once they had that, well, there wasn't much else that needed done other than to keep them moving.

The explosions were right on time to help with that. The mob surged as the ground shook for what was far from the first time that night, pushing back hard against the line of badge armor that was already starting to show cracks. It was hellish chaos without Krash's finale blasting out into the darkness; with it, the world surrounding the stage became a thrashing, stomping, violent wall of hate that lashed out against the city and all those unfortunate enough to be caught in its path.

And goddamn if it wasn't a beautiful thing to witness. Fires glowed in bright oranges and reds on the horizon, the wailing of more sirens barely audible, but Evi saw the lights in the distance. They weren't heading here anymore, there was no real point. No, the pigs had real problems now, not just her little riot - and they were about to have a lot more before the night was through.

A combination of lights from NCPD A.Vs and the neon glow of the stage illuminated the grin she wore as she looked out across the unfolding violence. It was beautiful, and everything to do with all the work she'd put in this past week. Evi took the same pride and pleasure out of what she did just like Northman, but unlike him was less of a fucking idiot about it. Thought with the head on her shoulders a lot more than he did, too.

Sudden movement and the flash of brightly colored clothing illuminated by the red neon caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and she turned in time to watch a group of what might have been Lacers charge recklessly through the crowd towards the target of their rage that she could barely make out. These fucking kids. She sent a message out to the True Believers working the crowd tonight. // Group of kids next to the effects stage. The stomp hasn't even started yet, what the fuck's going on? //

The last half of the song shook the very platform she was standing on, but her back was to the stage as she shifted her attention and looked in the direction of the police lines, watching closely for that first break. Once they got through it was really on, but until then she would just keep watching.

 

[Vigilant]

@Cyrus "Risers"

As I tried to weave deeper into the crowd, against my better judgement, I found myself blocked by a solid mass of ravers. The energy in the crowd was reaching a boiling point, the rocker on the stage screamed passionate vitriol into the microphone. It was even a song anymore, it was a god damned call-to-arms.

The crowd, like a shifting amorphous single-celled organism, united in hate, began to expand. People around me turned from the stage, their moments ago rapt attention now flipped like a switch turning the bubbling frenzy into true mania.

My kiroshi's scanned for an exfil, a red aura waving across the crowd bombarded me with criminal reports of the ravers around me. Fucking hell, there it was again... that phantom pain in the front of my skull where I'd once possessed a top of the line processing chip, where now a lab grown frontal cortex of meat was overheating as the kiroshi's drew in all those sensations. I could feel my emotion suppressor flooding my system with a balance of hormones as my heart-rate spiked. I turned to my left, ready to get a head-start with the crowd rush, to see one of the RCL's goons slamming another one into the pavement. Fucking mongrels.

"You don't wear that shit in our hood! Stomp the fucker, NOW!" he yelled out, half to his gangers, half to me as he pointed in my direction, knowing he'd got my attention. I glanced at the boy laying, twitching on the ground. Who were these people, that they'd brutalize their own so readily?

Two of the gangers in their milsurp chic and jackboots charged me with furious anger on their faces, one screaming how he was going to beat the yellow fever outta my head as he flipped a switchblade in his right hand. As he lunged, I knocked the strike outwards with my right forearm, letting his foolish momentum continue into me as I rammed a hand left fist into his solar plexus. Bringing my right arm back in I drove a palm up into the bottom of his jaw with a crack. My grip tightened around the man's chin, and I spun him off of me by the neck.

Not realizing how close his buddy had come up behind him, the next man's lunging strike caught me, a fist to the face. I turned into the force of the blow, grasping down across my torso for my sidearm, which I'd wisely kept ready to go in it's holster. I brought the butt of the pistol up hard and returned a bash across the face to my assailant. Using the moment to stumbled a step back, I raised the weapon and unloaded three shots into the man at close range.

Like a wave, the crowd surge towards me. I couldn't tell if they could tell what was going on, but I turned heel and began to run with the bulls, knowing those who'd been commanded towards me would give chase, and hoping that the frenzied masses would focus on other targets...