Night City is teeming with suppliers and buyers, and deals occur in every corner and facet of life.
Bartering for trades and services is the oldest human pastime, and even in this neon city, that ancient practice connects people who might otherwise never have met...
Jig-Jig Street was a lively place, and not the usual locale you'd expect to find the Red Hand. Emotions secure under the emotionless veneer of his helmet, hand flexing within his custom Exoglove while his other hand gripped a long telescoping rod serving as a cane, Cassus kept an appraising eye out for threats and opportunity as he walked down this alleyway of debauchery and opportunity. Unlike some of the other patrons of the street, draped by various vulturous suitors enticing their company and wallets, the Ripperdoc was looking for a different kind of illicit company.
He had many contacts whom he regularly dealt with for the basic components of his business, specifically the electrical components used in assembling customized cybernetics. Still, on the rare occasion he required (or desired) something more complex or novel, he found that encounters on Jig-Jig Street had a particular attraction for the brilliant minds using the fanfare and ample distractions as a cover for their brand of crazy on sale. Sometimes, he would set up shop here himself, a pop-up Cyber Clinic could be it's own kind of spectacle depending on what mods people were looking for.
What sort of deals would go down today, on Jig-Jig Street?
Write a scene where you are either buying, selling, or trading an item(s) or service(s)
Tag someone in the thread to enter the scene with you, it can be me or someone else!
All transactions should be completed in as few posts as possible and result in some exchange (i.e., Eddies, posted Submissions, Information, etc.).
All scenes are instanced, meaning each scene is independent of all other scenes in the thread, and so can't be interrupted by events in other scenes.
One character can be in multiple scenes, as they are assumed to take place at different times, even if they take place in the same location.
He was sweating alcohol and various other forms of intoxication when he came doddering down jig-jig street. Frenchman, who was waddling at his side, had informed him that jig-jig street was the beating heart of the city. Filled with more rum than there was water in the NC bay, Vex had countered that Watson was truly the spiritual home of Night Citizens. Frenchman started yelling about his missing sense of culture and general lack of education, and demanded that the two of them make the trip.
"Ze women zhall shend you to another world monsieur," he'd said. That had perked Vex's interest, though he quickly found himself an object of apathy for the many joytoys wandering the streets. Most either ignored him or pointedly plugged their noses at his approach. For his part, Vex was unsure what made him so unattractive. Yeah, he'd not showered in a day or two, but that just added to his vibe as far as he was concerned.
The joytoys were simply uncultured, and Frenchman had agreed. After being rejected by virtually every woman on jig-jig street, the two had resolved to return swimming in Eddie's, that they were certain would make them the most enticing men in all of California.
The trip to Heavenmed was a harrowing one. Maelstrom's gangoons wasted little time in reclaiming their lost territory, though they were still busy clearing the lower levels when the duo arrived. Frenchman, about as corpulent as an elderly swollen orangutuang, had opted to remain outside whilst Vex climbed up onto the roof, weaseled his way onto the second floor, and began the grisly work of sawing one of the massive synthetic tentacles off the corpse of the late Maelstrom leader Hatchet.
With great effort, the two had managed to stuff the tentacle into the back of Frenchman's Thorton, the mass of it hanging out of the back window and trailing sparks along the road as they'd sped through traffic. It was truly a miracle they'd not been arrested mid-transit.
Now, Vex was dragging that tentacle - a limb of carbon and synthflesh that stretched nearly six feet in length and trailed behind him like an oily tail - down through the heart of jig-jig street.
"Monsieur Vex," Frenchman grunted, "I must confess, I have lied to you."
"Whatcha mean," Vex grunted as he hoisted the tentacle back onto his shoulder for the eighth time since walking onto the street.
"I have a wife."
"WHAT?!" Vex shouted above the steady cacophony of illicit activity. He dropped the tentacle with a loud thud and whirled on his friend. "Choom why-the-fugg-are-we-out... dude!"
"Zhou seemed so sad Monsieur, I only wished to give zhou zhe confidence of mine company, but do not worry! I zhall not leave until you are face deep in zhe booty."
"Bro," Vex had his hands splayed out in his animated outrage. "I don't even want a joytoy! I was just doing all this shit so we could keep hanging out."
"Well... zhis is awkward."
"Honestly, it's kinda touchin' you wanna wingman for me like that, but you coulda' told me. Didn't wanna drag this tentacle thing this far anyway." Vex's face scrunched up like a constipated pug. "Wanna go back to LeBlanc's?"
Frenchman waved a dismissive hand. "No, no, I have just received a message from mine wife. She wants a baby, zhou shee, and I must be on demand for all-"
Vex held up a hand. "Spare me the deets. Don't want the mental image."
"Uh-huh," Frenchman grunted, then glanced toward the direction they came from. "Zhou will make it home okay?"
"Yeah, go get your freak on man." Vex offered a hand. Frenchman took it and pulled him into a bro-hug, the muttered something in his made-up language before turning to waddle off back to his car.
Vex watched him go through a very long, exasperated sigh. Being drunk with a friend was exhilarating, being drunk alone was depressing. He was left alone standing in the center of jig-jig street with his leaky tentacle. After taking a moment to gather himself, Vex chanced a look around, his gaze settling on what look to be a pop-up ripperdoc clinic just down the road.
An idea began to form in what remained of his synapses. He'd come all this way, and he could still sell the tentacle. Wilma was a pretty girl, and she was getting pretty tired of him. How did you make a pretty girl like you? Buying her things, of course. Resolved to purchase his partner's affections in lieu of earning them, the 'runner dragged his prize on up to the stand, a big stupid grin plastered across his face all the while.
The choom running the shop looked pretty cool. Vex was keen to inform him of such, "Yo my choomba," the rum on his breath was so strong that anyone within a meter of him would catch a big whiff of it. "That mask thing you got's pretty preem. Like that one bad dude on Watson Whore, y'know the first season?"
Vex did not await a reply before dropping his man-sized tentacle unceremoniously onto the front counter of the pop-up clinic, the metal groaning beneath its weight. "Name's Vex, and I got a tentacle you're gonna love. BEHOLD!" He waved his hands over the cyber limb as it began to leak oil and synthetic blood all over the countertop. "You're allowed to be amazed. I would be!"
