PUBLIC Paint Fades, Punk Stays

[Daiya]

Post Soundtrack: "Brighter Than Gold" by Louis II

(Click Me)

It was the corner of No and Where, which in Night City was just about any corner. She couldn't say exactly what corner but could drive there without thinking. Most people, she figured, had driven past at some point in the last few days, never thinking to turn in. Even Daiya would have questioned why she would if asked, and that was the brilliance of her idea. She saw plenty of nodding heads at the rave when she brought it up, anyway, and that was good enough for Darkwire's mastermind.

Pretty soon the people of Night City would have something new to talk about, to marvel at, and maybe learn just what intersection they always sped right through without thinking about it.

"There's a real zen to this, isn't there?" Daiya mentioned off-handedly to her nearby tagger, passing time while she worked on her fill. Her finger pressed lightly in little spritzes of paint, dabbing here and there like a paintbrush. Others might choose to make quick throw-ups or tags, but it didn't seem right to leave the most visible section without a real piece to gaze at. Something to draw the eyes and make people wonder, really wonder. Even if it was the hardest thought the put in all day, Daiya would just be happy her piece made it happen.

"I used to think nobody really cared much about the art part, like it was all just ego, y'know. Just tag 'n dash, throw that shit up everywhere 'til the cops show up or your can's empty." The can rattled in her ears as she shook it up again, the black was running dry. A little air came out through her nostrils, it was annoying to have to stop for a refill. Daiya probably could have asked to borrow someone else's can, but it was black, everyone needed black. Smacking herself would only give her forehead its own tag, and one not nearly as coherent as the piece she was making. A couple coats of grey would have to do once her black was gone.

She really should have gone for pink infill, that one she had in spades.

"Not me." As it wasn't already clear to anyone in sight, especially anyone who had finished early. Her stomach gave a little lurch as her can sputtered out, not quite a the end of her stroke. A little more rattle and a lot more pressure from her finger finally encouraged it to finish the job. "Nah, I want someone to see this and go, 'Wow, that's a-mazing, who did that?!'"

She swapped out for the grey stuffed in the big pocket of her hoodie, the ones easy to access. The boring ones were in her back pockets, and for once Daiya was glad everyone couldn't see the outline of her body in the baggy clothes. Today her art, and the rest of Darkwire's, would have to make their statement on its own.

And in big, bold letters, hers would read:

CORPO GREED IS A DISEASE!

​

---

OOC: Open to all, especially @Angel @Brie @Cassus Akovin @Ivory Stroud @Jimmy Hosaka @Remi​

 

[Brie]

A night out with the girls and guys, just making yourself guilty to vandalism this time. Brie didn't know which one in line it was. She had lost count as it was also a common occurrence in The Red Ravens from which both her and Daiya had been in prior to joining Darkwire. Usually, it was kind of a chill and safe sparetime for the youngsters

Brie took a step back from the wall towards her backpack on the ground and pulled a pack of cigarettes from inside her black leather jacket, put one in her mouth and lighted it. She took a smoke and put her free hand in her pocket in the chilly spring night, while she considered the next color or detail in her own tag. The grey smoke rose slowly to the sky as the buzz from Night City filled the background noice of their little gathering. She would agree with Daiya that it was a zen, alright, but her friend also rambled on about how artsy this really was. It was quite unexpected to hear from the danger-loving edgerunner, all wise and artist like, and Brie gave her a sideways glance and took another smoke.

"Not me." As it wasn't already clear to anyone in sight, especially anyone who had finished early. Her stomach gave a little lurch as her can sputtered out, not quite a the end of her stroke. A little more rattle and a lot more pressure from her finger finally encouraged it to finish the job. "Nah, I want someone to see this and go, 'Wow, that's a-mazing, who did that?!'"

''Oh...'' Brie exclaimed as she moved her head back to study the ''Da Vinci'', or rather the Da Daiya that started to take form on the cold and up until now dull wall. ''Looks like a nine year old made... What is it supposed to look like, now again?'' she uttered, and kept her gaze upon the fine art and in vain tried to look serious, but a broad smile spread on her face almost instantly and she readied herself to dodge an eventually flying spraycan. D would know her friend just pulled her leg, right? In all honesty, Daiya really put her best into this and was very good. It was a nice thing to see her friend putting her ambitions into something that wasn't a major crime. It didn't involve killing someone, and that was indeed something for the ragtag bunch of people in Darkwire.

@Daiya, @Cassus Akovin, @Angel, @Ivory Stroud, @Jimmy Hosaka, @Remi​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Cassus did not often consider himself an artist, but he would admit that his sense of flair and style lent itself to a kind of artisanal beauty when it came to ripping out corporate cyberware. As a ripperdoc, he was responsible for fulfilling his patron's mechanical needs and desires, but as a showman, it was his duty to make the experience memorable. With those two facets in mind, he found himself particularly inspired by participating in this low-stakes "operation" for building their esprit de corps. Darkwire was young, cut lean, but building strength. Secrecy in plain sight was strength, but more powerful is imagery. The ability to message, without explicit words, to sway the impulses of onlookers or listeners to act on their secret desires. Words had their power, too, of course, but this appeared to be a difference in opinion between his vision and the boss's.

"Hmm, slogan is truth, but..." Cassus swirled his hand in the air with his spray paint bottle in thought, a soft rattle accenting his pause.

"Pedestrian, no?" Under his mask, he smiled, which triggered a red holographic symbol of a laughing face with devil horns to appear over his shoulder. As @Brie teased @Daiya, Cassus took this as an opportunity to demonstrate what real tagging was.

"Words, easy to make, but! Require translation," He turned to an adjacent wall from Daiya's spot and began to paint it red. It was just an outline at first, and it was not immediately apparent what it was as he started in the center with the fingers, before it gradually took the shape of a large, clenched fist of resistance rising from the concrete. It was almost directly reminiscent of the classic symbol of the Russian soviets.

"Symbols speak for themselves in all tongues and easily borrowed by laymen. Hmm, missing something." Not satisfied with merely honoring the cliché of his persona, he pulled out a can of chrome and began to spray between the fingers of the fist before extending beyond the hand with each articulated vertebra of a bloodily extracted cyberware spine. To complete the crimson mural, he held up his Soviet Exogloved hand to the first vertebra that would connect to the skull and powered on the suturing laser to etch the logo of a corporate brand he particularly detested. It was tricky using it outside of its normal function, but he was well practiced, and the laser was very precise... when he wanted it to be.

"Eye-catching, yes?" The Ukrainian gestured to his work.

@Angel @Ivory Stroud @Jimmy Hosaka @Remi

 

[Daiya]

Post Soundtrack: "Colors" by Halsey

(Click Me)

To her eyes, the piece might not have been a masterpiece, but it wasn't all that bad. Driving by tags on the freeway, now there was something pedestrian to see. Not to mention that hers was so much more legible than the pieces that made her squint so much just to read them, and narrowly avoided crashing in the process. If only she had cybernetic ears as well as her eyes, easier to turn them off or tune out the words that chipped away at her heart. Bit by bit, the teenage artist turned to her crew with dour appraisal of their feedback.

A little audience appreciation was never uncalled for.

"Everybody's a fucking critic," she grumbled, not minding the paint dribbles that marked her sleeves as the crossed in front of her. Daiya gestured from her folded arms, one at a time, before holding them back against herself, finding little else of comfort in the moment. "Does no one appreciate a simple catchphrase these days? You'd think I killed your cat or something."

With the roll of her eyes, Daiya turned back to her piece. She tried not to think of it any differently, though she couldn't help but feel an unsettling twinge glancing over the lettering. Now the curves felt too stark next to the straight lines, and the blending on her shading looked wrong. She should never have tried to use grey for black lines, it only looked like a deeper grey now, and it shimmered in a way that the black hadn't. And one of the wet spots was starting to well up, drawing her close enough to dab at it with her sleeve, turning it grey in the process.

So much for a-mazing.

"Oh yeah, totes. Speaks for itself, really," Daiya surmised as she turned around, giving the ripperdoc's symbol an overly-scrutinizing gaze. Her lips pursed together, and she waved a hand under her nose, inhaling the scent of paint, sweat, and car exhaust that permeated the gantry corridor where their art was being made. Some art, anyway. "It gives me the air of, 'What the fuck was this guy huffing when he drew this?' A real изюм /// raisin about it."

The little pull at the edge of her lip might have been mistaken for a sneer, which was alright by Daiya at the moment. She turned back to her work, drying a bit better now, and blew a stream of air through her nostrils. It wasn't cold enough to see her breath, which really only happened in the BDs, but the teen could have sworn she did anyway. Too many fumes around here, probably. She pulled out another cannister and gave it a shake, letting the rattling noise draw her back into the artistry.

Grey or not, she was going to finish what she started. Maybe her crew had a point, but with enough sunlight on the piece, it would all look grey and faded soon regardless. After all, who cared what anyone driving by might think, so long as the message came through?

---

@Brie @Cassus Akovin​

OOC: Obviously she meant изюминка

 

[Angel]

Location: gantry painting with friends
Objective: paint, chat
Tags: @Daiya @Cassus Akovin @Brie

There was a whirring sound as Ada lowered herself on a cord she had attached higher up on the gantry so she could get to a little hard to reach spot she had her eye on. She has enjoying a bit of fun and the smear of red paint on her face framed her big eyes and her smile well.

She looked at Daiya's work beneath her own Mexican skull motiff. Ada placed her hand around Daiya's waist and gave her a supportive squeeze. "Ignore them chica, it looks fine. They are just jealous of your magnificence" Her support was laced with a teasing sarcasm as usual. She grinned and itched her face with her free hand only worsening the smear.

@Cassus Akovin was passing his judgement over the values of writing. She disagreed, Daiya's words were clear as day and would be for anyone to read and most people in Night City understood English even if some groups refused to use it. She turned her face to him. "You say symbols don't need translation ese, but that looks like a soviet fist. To me that means oppression and selling la basura || garbage as functioning tech?" she laughed in her friendly way. Adelaide unclipped her cord to saunter along the gantry amongst her friends and stand back to admire their collective work. Hers wasn't the best, and it wasn't really anything to do with the cause, but it was hers.

 

[Remi]

@Cassus Akovin @Angel @Brie

"I used to think nobody really cared much about the art part, like it was all just ego, y'know. Just tag 'n dash, throw that shit up everywhere 'til the cops show up or your can's empty."

Even though Remi only had a hint of a French accent still, he felt that such philosophical musing about art were supposed to come from a European.

"Eye-catching, yes?" The Ukrainian gestured to his work.

Remi had a crew member who was real handy with an airbrush. There was no greater work of art to him than a jacked car given a gaudy makeover. Driving it past it's former owners without recognition was a special kind of game they would play.

Remi did not have a steady hand, nor an artistic flair. He'd laser cut a few simple decals and already put up a few simple tags.

"You say symbols don't need translation ese, but that looks like a soviet fist. To me that means oppression and selling la basura || garbage as functioning tech?" she laughed

"Man, we all getting wasted or going to an art gallery after this?" Remi laughed.

There was a click, followed by a soft hiss. Having down enough painting to stain a few fingers, Remi had turned to his important job. He sat on the plastic crate of beer cans he'd brought and would dole out a cold Broseph ale upon request. He would also carry the beer if the cops caught them and they had to run.

"Walls lookin good from down here!"