“Redline”
- Eddies
- 205,931
Watson District — NCPD Lockdown Zone
Outside a half-dead noodle bar, southeast alley behind Kabuki Market
The sharp click of a lighter flared briefly in the dark, casting a flicker of red-orange glow over Ryan Graves' face before the flame died and the cigarette nestled between his lips began to smolder. He leaned with his back against a concrete support column, one foot braced against it, the other firm on cracked pavement. Under the tattered hem of his jacket, fresh gauze peeked out, poorly taped across his ribs, courtesy of a street doc who didn't ask questions. A reminder of Lizzie's.
A reminder of the Bloodlight Riots and the RCL gonks who cut him. A reminder of one of their leaders, @Evi "Dustoff" Ashford.
Watson hadn't felt this caged in since the old lockdowns of '77. NCPD was crawling the streets like roaches, scanners in every alley, and MaxTac's shadow hung heavy overhead. Ryan hadn't left the district since the firefight erupted at Lizzie's and with the precinct bombed and the Red Chrome bastards running wild, the place had gone from vibrant to volatile overnight. Still, work didn't stop just because the streets were a madhouse. He had bills to pay, and leverage to make if he wanted to get past this NCPD blockade anyday.
Ryan pulled a drag from the cigarette and exhaled slow, eyes scanning the dark. He was waiting, leaning into that slow patience only edgerunners developed. The solo he'd pinged wasn't late yet, but time was tight. Corpo cash had been wired to @Red Bulloch, and the job was simple enough on paper: extract a mid-level corpo with questionable taste in partners from Totentanz before he ended up flatlined in a Maelstrom basement. The mark had gone off the grid three nights ago. No calls, no signal. His TT package hadn't activated. That meant Maelstrom were keeping him alive - barely, and probably bleeding his bank account for every eddie they could squeeze.
They weren't dumb, just savage.
Ryan reached under his coat, checking the mag on his iron one more time.
Yeah, guns were an option, but it wasn't Plan A.
Totentanz wasn't a place you walked into with bravado and walked out of clean. Not unless you had leverage… or muscle worth the risk. That's why he made the call. This wasn't a solo job, not anymore. It was gonna take finesse, a little edge, and if things got loud? Well, that's what bullets were for. He flicked ash to the ground and glanced down the alley, waiting for the silhouette of his contact to cut through the neon haze. Showtime was coming.
@The Watchman
Outside a half-dead noodle bar, southeast alley behind Kabuki Market
The sharp click of a lighter flared briefly in the dark, casting a flicker of red-orange glow over Ryan Graves' face before the flame died and the cigarette nestled between his lips began to smolder. He leaned with his back against a concrete support column, one foot braced against it, the other firm on cracked pavement. Under the tattered hem of his jacket, fresh gauze peeked out, poorly taped across his ribs, courtesy of a street doc who didn't ask questions. A reminder of Lizzie's.
A reminder of the Bloodlight Riots and the RCL gonks who cut him. A reminder of one of their leaders, @Evi "Dustoff" Ashford.
Watson hadn't felt this caged in since the old lockdowns of '77. NCPD was crawling the streets like roaches, scanners in every alley, and MaxTac's shadow hung heavy overhead. Ryan hadn't left the district since the firefight erupted at Lizzie's and with the precinct bombed and the Red Chrome bastards running wild, the place had gone from vibrant to volatile overnight. Still, work didn't stop just because the streets were a madhouse. He had bills to pay, and leverage to make if he wanted to get past this NCPD blockade anyday.
Ryan pulled a drag from the cigarette and exhaled slow, eyes scanning the dark. He was waiting, leaning into that slow patience only edgerunners developed. The solo he'd pinged wasn't late yet, but time was tight. Corpo cash had been wired to @Red Bulloch, and the job was simple enough on paper: extract a mid-level corpo with questionable taste in partners from Totentanz before he ended up flatlined in a Maelstrom basement. The mark had gone off the grid three nights ago. No calls, no signal. His TT package hadn't activated. That meant Maelstrom were keeping him alive - barely, and probably bleeding his bank account for every eddie they could squeeze.
They weren't dumb, just savage.
Ryan reached under his coat, checking the mag on his iron one more time.
Yeah, guns were an option, but it wasn't Plan A.
Totentanz wasn't a place you walked into with bravado and walked out of clean. Not unless you had leverage… or muscle worth the risk. That's why he made the call. This wasn't a solo job, not anymore. It was gonna take finesse, a little edge, and if things got loud? Well, that's what bullets were for. He flicked ash to the ground and glanced down the alley, waiting for the silhouette of his contact to cut through the neon haze. Showtime was coming.
@The Watchman
