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/tg/ - Traditional Games


You are a motorcycle courier, and you live in a strange time. Technology has outrun itself. Data transmission is too advanced to be secure. It's anybody's guess how data is routed through the sprawling system, or how much of it any hub saves. Speeding messengers with bags on their backs are the best option in an age where digital information's only security is obscurity. You are the cutting edge, in a world where that means taking approaches that would have been barbarically low-tech fifty years ago.

Home is where the heart is, as they said. It's also where the chest, the arms, and even the cold toes are.

For a few minutes after you wake up, you lie there stupidly, swamped in your pile of stuffed animals, not even up to the task of wondering why you're awake. Slowly, you realize that your feet are cold. It takes even longer for you to decide to do something about it.

Your feet have somehow managed to displace a couple of tigers and a llama from their righful, comfy place, and make the world a little colder.

Well, the world isn't actually colder near your feet, they're just defenceless against it. Strange how that works.

But thinking about how cold your feet are, and why they're so cold, doesn't make them warmer, any more than staring at the hairline crack in your concrete ceiling makes it go away. You lever yourself out of your mountain of fuzzy comfort, and brace yourself for the day.

Wow, your feet were just an icy warning shot from the room's air. Once you expose the rest of yourself, it loses no time in trying to pillage your warmth, like a greedy barbaric army sacking a great city.

You lose no time in getting into the shower, and letting the hot water flow over you like an army recalled from the field to break a siege on their home. After a few minutes, you feel alive again.

You feel even more alive, but less happy about it, when you step out of the shower into the cold air again.
>>
>>36272567

After you wipe the steam from the mirror, you're greeted with what might be a political map, back when they used things like that, spread over and around your torso in black and blue.

Every one of those dark countries might have been your death if you weren't wearing something bulletproof. It's a sobering thought to start the day on.

>A good day begins with a good breakfast
>A good day begins with a good round of motorcycle maintenance
>A good day begins with a good bout of exercise
>A good day begins with rustling up some jobs
>A good day begins at the closest bar
>>
>>36272606
>A good day begins with a good breakfast
>>
>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast
Coffee and a sammich!
>>
>>36272645
waffles and pancakes.
It's the future, we can have both.
>>
>>36272606
>A good day begins with a good bout of exercise
>>
>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast
>>
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>>36272606

Twitter(for quest news, not my political views): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20Quest

Questions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge

LAST SESSION'S STATS:
Phone Numbers Obtained: None
Delivery Completed: The Old Man And The Look-See
Bonus Objectives Fulfilled: Grandpa In Distress; Dolphins In Trash Bags; Drive-By Shooting; The Steel Horse Is Mightier Than The Sword; Dropping Eaves Like Skrillex Drops The Bass; Hello, My Name Is;
Bonus Objectives Missed: The Scream; Relationship Counselor; Bookish; Erasing Your Record
>>
>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast
Most important meal of the day
>>
>>36272606
>A good day begins with a good round of motorcycle maintenance
>>
>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast
>>
>>36272606
You know normally a person with that many bruises from close calls would take a few days off. I mean we got plenty of money from back to back jobs for living expenses I assume, but that would make the thread kind of boring I assume.
>>
>>36272606
>A good day begins with a good round of motorcycle maintenance
>A good day begins with a good bout of exercise
Same thing.
>>
>>36272869
Actually anon is right. Doing that WOULD be an exercise considering what we do
>>
>>36272892
>>36272869
This
H-how lewd.
>>
>>36272869
>>36272892
Second.
>>
>>36272869
Sex is good exercise after all. Voting here
>>
>>36272869
Seconding
>>
>>36272892
>>36272869
Guys I'm okay with our MC getting off on the bike, but not everytime we do maintenance, ya know?
>>
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>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast
Oh sweet brown medicine take away the pain... with a side of eggs.
>>
>>36272979
>but not everytime we do maintenance, ya know?
Sure, emergency maintenance you're right. But otherwise? Nope
>>
>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast

>>36272979
I'm afraid we're in the majority, but I share the sentiment.
>>
>>36272869
>>36272892
>>36272940
Yes.
>>
>>36272940
>>36272869
>>36272606
Seconded
>>
>>36272606
>>A good day begins with a good breakfast


>>36272999
I really hate it when you guys do this.
>>
>>36273011
Minority rather.
>>
>>36273034
>I really hate it when you guys do this.
Thank the lord it's only for a tiny part of the quest then, huh?
>>
This is going to become a thing isn't it....

We're only getting off to the vibrations r-right? That has a semblance of normalcy.
>>
>>36272606
>A good day begins with a good breakfast
>>
>>36273056
Not really.

How's your sex life is annoying too.

Most of it just seems forced to me.
>>
>>36272869
>>36272606
Seconding
>>
>>36272869
Casting my vote here.
>>
Alright, enough with the samefagging... I've been watching the poster count and while there are several people voting for smut, at least one of them is dropping in multiple votes.
>>
>>36273096
You already fucked up.

You brought in the how.
>>
>>36272606
>A good day begins with a good breakfast

>>36273096
>spoiler
I'd hope the engine isn't running while we are working on it.
>>
>>36273119
Actually, I'd say the good breakfast seems to be samefagging more. Lots of the votes seem to have only come JUST after >>36272869
>>
>>36273148
See? Look at that. Before that post we were at 20 posters.
Breakfastfags are samefags after all.
>>
>>36273179
Both sides are samefags.

It happens.
>>
>>36272869
Voting.
>>
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>>36272869
In for a penny, in for a pound. May as well pound it.
>>
>27 minutes
>40 posts
>we're on the first choice of the thread
>>
>>36273266
Lewd stuff does that anon.
>>
>>36273096
>We're only getting off to the vibrations r-right? That has a semblance of normalcy.
Think we just get excited by maintenance then we use the vaguely phallic scrap parts in our bunny-plush-bed-den
>>
>>36273266
Trust me if we were planning our next move in a firefight only like 3 people would vote.
>>
>>36273316
Mainly due to the fact people here have no idea how to act in a firefight? I mean, I certainly have no fucking clue how guns work.
>>
>>36273316
>everything I hate about this playerbase in a nutshell
>>
>>36273316
well my gun experience is pretty much limited to doom and wolfenstein enemy territory, so...
>>
>>36273439
>>36273418
I don't its totally that, but usually there is a 'right' choice in those situations and if I see that choice already getting the majority before I vote I don't see the need to unless I want to add to it. But this choice has the potential for lewd so the normal just lurking crowd comes out to make sure they get it.
>>
>>36273316
We're a courier - we need to try to stay out of firefights.

that's why we're covered in bruises.

If we go up against someone packing any kind of armor-piercing (quite likely if bulletproof armor and mechanical drones are common), we're going to get shreck'd.
>>
>>36273470
Military service over here is mandatory, so I know how a gun works. (Well there are those who aren't man enough and take civil service instead. And those who refuse both ways and go into jail.)
>>
>>36273518
>stay out of firefights

What are you, a pussy?

We're making a reputation for going above and beyond.
>>
>>36273518
More of my point was that in serious situations less people vote, maybe cause of the reason I stated here >>36273493 , but with with character quirks there is alot more.
>>
>>36273543
well in my country we're supposed to get a day of military "service" but they somehow forgot about me
>>
>>36272606

You think about what to do next as you pad out to the main living area, wet feet slapping against the linoleum.

A good day begins with a good breakfast, of course. The only problem is that you aren't a cook. Well, you can create something with enough calories to keep you going, and even a decent nutritional balance, but 'good'?

You're not that delusional.

if you're looking for a good breakfast, you're looking at a restaurant, you think while pulling on a pair of jeans. And restaurants cost money.

Geez, the denim is cold against your skin. It'll warm up eventually, but right now it feels like you might have just sheathed your legs in ice. Definitely a sweater day.

Of course, you're rolling in money right now, thanks to the jobs you pulled off yesterday. You could certainly afford to splurge on a little creature comfort, like eating out this morning.

But first thing's first - you need to see to your bike. It is your faithful steed, after all.
>>
File: xAS3l.gif (1.47 MB, 487x306)
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How a gun works in a nutshell.
>>
>>36273612
>A good day begins with a good breakfast, of course.

>>36272620
>>36272645
>>36272718
>>36272737
>>36272754
>>36272985
>>36273011
>>36273034
>>36273103
>>36273148
10
VS

>>36272869
>>36272892
>>36272917
>>36272919
>>36272940
>>36272948
>>36273019
>>36273029
>>36273108
>>36273114
>>36273198
>>36273209
12

Not that I much mind avoiding lewd, but if you're disregarding votes then say so.
>>
>>36273711
Not done updating look at the last few sentences.
>>
>>36273711
>Reading comprehension
>>
>>36273711
I wish we could do with out lewd.
>>
>>36273711

>>36273612
>first thing's first - you need to see to your bike

Read the post, turbonerd.
>>
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>>36273726
Fuck fuck fuck
>>
>>36273711
Would be hilarious to know how many people are seeing multiple (You)s on that list.
>>
>>36273744
/tg/ will always to the lewd option. Always.
>>
>>36273749
atleast 1. 22 votes. 22 posters-1 from qm.
>>
>>36273776
I hold hope that tg isn't so hard up that they need girls masturbating with bike parts.
>>
>>36273801
I hope not. I never got why they wanted lewd here anyway.

That's what porn's for.
>>
>>36273780
21 participants, 22 votes, none of them are mine.
>>
>>36273801
I feel you, I really like the character so far, I just hope that we can avoid the lewd choice every now and then in these mornings. Also not spout 'Hows your sex life'. Funny at first, got old and forced real fast.
>>
>>36273780
>>36273840
I count 24 votes total, but may have missed some.
>>
>>36273863
>Also not spout 'Hows your sex life'. Funny at first, got old and forced real fast.
Agreed.
I'm a lewd voter, and even I find that terrible.
>>
>>36273863
Eh, "how's your sex life" can be a funny icebreaker question.

I kinda wish the scene with Ryan hadn't been so funny. If Haiku couldn't write awkward sex jokes humorously, people wouldn't ask for them.
>>
>>36273801
HD was willing to write lewd of some fashion. He will never be rid of the consequences of that action.
>>
I like the Hows your sex life as an ice breaker, I hate lewds.
>>
>>36273972
So true. Opened the floodgates so to speak. Good luck HD. Though to be honest its been pretty tame and civil in here if not a little weird with the choice and all.
>>
Did Haiku get scared away?
>>
>>36274412
I wouldn't blame him, but in all seriousness he's always been a bit of a slower poster. At least from what I've seen following this quest so far.
>>
>>36274412
Yes
>>
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>>36273612
(2/3)

It's beautiful, you think for the thousandth time. The clean lines of its frame, an artist's vision in steel and composites, the bulk of its engine, an engineer's drawing painted over by an enthusiast's brush, and the daring economy of its fairing, a fashion designer's grail, covering the machine's most sensitive parts while teasing the eye with those powerful cylinders.

Of course the fairing comes off first.

It's the sensitive parts that absolutely have to be cleaned the most thoroughly.

Well, there's really not much cleaning you need to do this time. It's not as if you took it for a spin through the Danger Zone's dust again.

You have to spend some time with the front mudguard, though. It rammed through several doors last night, plunging through them with the force of a wild beast as you gripped the throbbing body of your mount between your legs.

Some parts of last night were enjoyable.

Honestly, adjusting the mudguard just isn't as compelling as getting into the finer details of the engine and the drivetrain. The front wheel doesn't have anything more interesting on it than a disc brake, for crying out loud. Well, even if it's not as exciting as the engine itself, it's still a finely-crafted mechanism.

Besides, if you just went straight for the good stuff, with no build-up, it wouldn't be much fun at all.
>>
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>>36274470
This is more arousing than I thought it would be.
>>
Such an odd kink.

>>36274594
I guess I hope you are enjoying yourself.
>>
>>36274617
I am.
>>
HaikuDeluge @HaikuDeluge 4 minutes ago
I don't even like motorcycles.
>>
>I don't even like motorcycles.
HAHAHAHa
>>
>>36274688
i think it's missing a second part like " so why am i getting so hard writing this?"
>>
>>36274721
>Implying Haiku isn't a girl
>>
>>36274688
He probably has a wikipedia page on motorcycle maintenance, trying to combine aspects if it with lewd smut.
>>
>>36274721
https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge
https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge/status/535251580522876929
>>
>>36274758
He's better to us than we deserve
>>
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>>36274470
(3/4)

You finish with the mudguard and the front wheel eventually, and finally get to turn your attention to the rest of the bike. It's all in order, from the taut chain that binds the back wheel to the engine's will, to the fuel filter that judges the engine's drinking habits like an old friend.

Engine oil looks good too. Too good - you can't wait to replace it and have that wonderful smell linger in your apartment for weeks, you think as you sniff the dipstick and lick your lips.

Checking the oil has been a one-handed job for a long time. Sometimes you do it first off, just to tease yourself, but you're being a little more straightforward today.

Only a little, though.

The wait as you re-attach the fairing (definitely a two-handed job) is tantalizing, but wiping it down after it's back in place allows you to run one hand over yourself as run run the other over your bike. It's always the contrast that gets you. The hard, cold steel against your warm, yielding flesh. Touching it through the rag as you make it shine is just a foretaste, the appetizer.

It's all about pacing yourself, until it isn't.

It's not the smell of the oil and the cool metal, it's not the feel of the smooth curves under your fingertips, it's not the shine of the mirror-like surfaces or the firm bulk of the whole mechanism - but it is. It's all of them at once, wrapped up in a messy bundle and getting in under any psychological guard you once had.

Suddenly, you're all over the bike, nuzzling it with wild abandon. You can feel its firm bulk pressing back against you - a machine that could easily crush you into a pulp or be the death of you if you're not careful.

And you're grinding against it, the scent of engine oil mixing with your own sweaty arousal, frantically searching for just the right angle, for something deeper.

The denim is just getting in the way, and that goes double for the sweater.

Who cares about the cold?
>>
You're enjoying this aren't you HD?
>>
>>36274866
HaikuDeluge @HaikuDeluge

If you're going to do something, do it in spades. If you give the people what they ask for, ram it home until they ask you to stop.
https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge/status/535255380604252160
>>
>>36274930
Sorry HD I said you opened the floodgates earlier but this'll just encourage more. I don't expect any other choice than 'maintenance' winning in the coming mornings of this quest.
>>
>>36274826
>please stop.
>>
>>36274470
>>36274826
This quest reignited the motorcycle-girl fetish Golden Boy gave me 10-14 years ago.
>>
Say HD, as a somewhat of a compromise for everyone here maybe you should pre-write the smut. Modify it in thread based on the situation but the core components down. That way lewdfags have their smut and we can move on to the rest of the quest so that the pacing doesn't grind to a halt.

Just a thought, don't know if it'll work.
>>
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>>36274826
(4/4)

In a few seconds, you've freed yourself. Free from the clothes, free from the cold, free to love what you will, how you will.

And love it you do. The touch of the cool metal sends a thrill through you, and the room's cold air blowing across your skin just highlights the volcanic fire within you.

You're burning up.

Even a sauna would feel like the arctic now. Sweat beads on your body, and a trickle runs down your arching back as you buck your hips against your mount's hardened steel frame.

You run your tongue along the handlebar's shaft, tasting the metal, savoring the cold, one hand tweaking a hard nipple, adjusing it like a spark plug.

Fuck, you're probably making as much noise as the engine would.

But you need something more, a finishing touch. The bent piston rod catches your eye.

It's funny that a broken, cast-off part can fit so well in a machine that was never designed for it. The bend that makes it unfit for the engine's pounding cylinder makes it perfect for filling you.

You're going to need another shower, you decide some time later, as you wipe your bike clean for a second, less exciting, time, shivering a little as the glow wears off. A hot one, to warm yourself back up.

As the water sluices over you, flowing over still-sensitive flesh, you wonder what restaurant you should treat yourself to.

>Frowning Jack's - Solid, hearty fare for solid, hearty customers. They'll be serving workers fresh off the night shift right about now
>Sadie's Seconds - Down home cooking is the claim, but in practice, that translates to 'lots of grease'. Delicious grease, but grease nonetheless.
>Imperial - Everything from noodles to (exorbitantly priced) Peking duck. Half a museum's worth of decor, unless it's all fabbed replicas.
>Ice - Now this is the high end. Nobody knows the menu before the chef scrawls it himself in the morning, and nobody knows it after that, unless they can read his hieroglyphics. But it's always good.
>Write In
>>
>>36275550
>>Sadie's Seconds - Down home cooking is the claim, but in practice, that translates to 'lots of grease'. Delicious grease, but grease nonetheless.
>>
>>36275550
Aaaaand pastebin'd for future pleasure.
http://pastebin.com/8ZztYcF6
>>
>>36275550
>>Imperial - Everything from noodles to (exorbitantly priced) Peking duck. Half a museum's worth of decor, unless it's all fabbed replicas.
We've got cash to burn now, might as well.
>>
>>36275550
>Sadie's Seconds - Down home cooking is the claim, but in practice, that translates to 'lots of grease'. Delicious grease, but grease nonetheless.
Anyone with a bike needs a certain amount of grease to function.
>>
Christ

>>36275550
>>Imperial - Everything from noodles to (exorbitantly priced) Peking duck. Half a museum's worth of decor, unless it's all fabbed replicas.
>>
>>36275550
>Sadie's Seconds - Down home cooking is the claim, but in practice, that translates to 'lots of grease'. Delicious grease, but grease nonetheless.
>>
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>META POST

>>36275322

>prewriting

But muh artistic integrity.

I think this is the last time I'll write smut with the motorcycle. Anything with the bike should be fade-to-black'd after this.

Because I don't think I could do another scene with the bike without repeating myself.
>>
>>36275550
>>Frowning Jack's - Solid, hearty fare for solid, hearty customers. They'll be serving workers fresh off the night shift right about now
>>
>>36275550
>Sadie's Seconds - Down home cooking is the claim, but in practice, that translates to 'lots of grease'. Delicious grease, but grease nonetheless.

>>36275623
love you too
>>
>>36275550
>Frowning Jack's
>>
>>36275550
(1/2)

You're feeling in the mood for what Sadie's terms 'down home cooking', which translates to 'two starches and something fried', if you remember the menu correctly.

It's still a sweater day, at least when you're not too caught up in things to care about the cold, and you chuck on your reinforced leather biking jacket over a comfortably fuzzy red one before getting lacing up your boots and heading out the door.

The hallway is the same drab gray concrete as usual, with a few scuffs and scratches here and there, but you wouldn't have it any other way. After all, if it was a nice hallway, they'd object to you wheeling your bike down it, and the rent would be higher.

Looking over the interesting selections of custom-installed locks your neighbors use always satisfies your inner busybody. Looks like Johnson added another one since you last took note - two matching metal boxes with ominously flashing red lights, one bolted to the wall, the other bolted to the door.

You've always wondered what would happen if Johnson happened to die in his room one night. How long would it take to get him out? Paranoia isn't uncommon in the city, but he's got a little bit more than normal.

Once you get out on the street, you don't have any more time to think about locks. You've got to keep your eyes on the passerbys and the traffic. Most of the former are heading home from the night shift, and most of the latter are corp haulers, looking for speed bonuses.

There's nothing more dangerous than a driver seeing green.
>>
>>36276397
>nothing more dangerous than a driver seeing green

The irony.
>>
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>>36276397
(2/2)

Luckily, Sadie's is close, only a few streets down, conveniently positioned near the entrance to a Perfcor compound. It's a good location - they work up quite an appetite for hot food scrounging through the cold, dead bowels of the old city.

The deeper they go, the more they get paid.

A bundle of bells ring as you push the door open, a low-tech entry alarm. It's emblematic of the whole establishment. The smell of coffee hits you like a sledgehammer as you walk into the over-warmed restaurant.

The most advanced piece of tech Sadie owns is probably the cash register, same as last time you were here. Every seat in the place is a steel frame, and everything but the food prep equipment looks barebones and unfinished.

Most of the seating is at the long bar that runs the length of the room, the lightbulbs hanging over it unapologetically naked. There are a few tables, efficient metal with folding steel chairs around them.

The restaurant's about a third full, almost all wearing gray Perfcor coveralls. The man in blue at the bar sticks out like a sore thumb, and the three waitresses are highly visible - the only ones wearing white in the whole place.

>Sit somewhere at the bar
>Sit next to the man in blue
>Sit at a table
>>
>>36276829
>Sit next to the man in blue
of course
always pick the guy with a big "!" above his head
>>
>>36276829
>>Sit at a table
>>
>>36276829
>Sit at a table

The man in blue is too obvious.

I refuse to get on the rails.
>>
>>36276829
>>Sit next to the man in blue
>>
>>36276829
>>Sit next to the man in blue

>>36276916
Choo choo motherfucker
>>
>>36276829
>>Sit at a table
>>
>>36276829
>Sit at a table
Get on rails after breakfast.
>>
>>36276829
>Sit at the table

We've had sleep, security, sex. We'll get food, and THEN we can climb to the next step of Maslow's hierarchy.
>>
>>36276829
>Sit next to the man in blue
"So how is your sex life?" no i'm not serious
>>
On one hand its an obvious plot hook and I believe our girl needs more R&R after the shit she pulled. On the other we wasted a couple hours on smut and getting the ball rolling again is appealing.

Tough call.
>>
>>36277052
food then hooks.
>>
>>36277068
Fair enough

>Sit at a table
>>
>>36276829
>Sit somewhere at the bar
>>
>>36276829

To be honest, the folding metal chairs look more comfortable than the highly-efficient frames at the bar.

They have backs, for one thing.

You sit down at a table, next to the wall, and take a look at the menu. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fried potatoes, mashed then fried potatoes, fried greens, fried eggs, fried sausage, and coffee. Frying probably hides the distinctive vat-grown taste.

A waitress wanders over eventually, hair pulled back into a tight bun, a nametag that reads "Maggie" on her shirt, and a small tablet in her hand. You wonder whether it's a personal device, or if Sadie is upgrading.

Maggie's more than polite, and calls you "hon". She probably picked it up from Sadie, a relic of a time and place gone fifty years ago, coming from a girl at least five years younger than you. It's still nice to hear, though.

Your order is simple - Sausage, mashed potatoes, fried eggs, black coffee. She takes it down with quick jabs of a stylus onto the tablet's screen, then takes off for the next table.

A couple of minutes pass like flies buzzing past a lightbulb, then the door opens and a group of five gray-clad guys walks through, still dusty from the underground. They're talking among themselves, and you notice them sneak a couple of glances in your direction.

Finally, one of them, a tallish young man with a hooked nose and short-cropped dark hair, walks over to your table. It seems he was designated as a spokesman, and from the way he's fingering his folded gloves, you think this might be more for his friends' amusement than anything else.

"Is this table free, ma'am?" he asks, barely managing to make eye contact as he fidgets from foot to foot.

>Sure, there's room for you guys
>Move to the bar
>Move next to the man in blue
>Write In
>>
>>36277562
>Sure, there's room for you guys
there's always "room" for guys
>>
>>36277562
Not sure what to make of this. If it had been one guy sure, but 5?
>>
>>36277562
>>Sure, there's room for you guys
>>
>>36277562
>Sure, there's room for you guys
But i'm not paying for your food.
>>
>>36277562
>>Sure, there's room for you guys
"I always have room for hearty hard-working men at my table"
>>
>>36277562
>>Sure, there's room for you guys
>>
>>36277562
>Sure, there's room for you guys
>Move next to the man in blue
Part of me wishes he used the term M'lady
>>
>>36277687
>spoiler
I think we're in Great Depression coal mining country right now.

Which is kind of strange, but I can dig it.
>>
the only way this quest is getting a good end is if her bike is reveled to be a transformer.
>>
>>36277831
>in Soviet Russia, bike fucks you
>>
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>>36277831
But what if it's a decepticon?!?!
>>
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>>36277899
>>
>>36277562

"Sure," you say, smiling at him, "there's room for you guys." Sitting in a folding chair, you should be able to get out, even with the rest of them sitting around the table.

"Thanks, ma'am," he says, and turns around to beckon to his friends. They troop over and grab seats with a curious air or tired boisterousness. Their shift obviously wore them down - you can see the tiredness written on their faces, even under the dust, but they're happy to be off of it, free at last.

You don't notice how young they are until they're sitting at the table, tossing the menu back and forth. They managed to seat "Jake", the awkward boy who came to ask permission, next to you by taking all the other seats. At this range, it's easy to see that he's little older than Maggie, and you wonder how long ago his voice changed.

Speaking of the waitress, Fritz, the jovial boy leaning back in his chair at the end of the table, calls her over for a round of coffee almost as soon at he sits down. He's got a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes that seem to jump out of his dust-darkened face, and you can almost see them work their magic on the girl. The "hon" she gives him is a good bit more enthusiastic than the one she gave you, that's for sure.

Or maybe they just know each other.

>Stay quiet, wait for your food
>Write In
>>
>>36278026
So what brings you boys over?
>>
>>36278026
>>Stay quiet, wait for your food
>>
>>36278026
"Long day?"
>>
>>36278026
>>36278047
this
>>
>>36278026
"How'd the shift go?"
>>
>>36278026
>Insert small talk here
>>
>>36278026
"Find anything interesting?"
>>
>>36278026
[smalltalk about work day intensifies]
>>
>>36278026
this>>36278047
>>
>>36278026

You wonder for a second why they came to your table, but a quick glance around the restaurant shows you that there just wasn't anywhere else for a group of five to sit. Well, at least they have a good excuse.

"Long night?" you ask as Maggie turns to leave. Might as well talk to them if they're here, get some free information.

"You could say that," Georgie, the smallest one, says, brushing his limp hair out of his eyes, smearing the dust on his forehead in the process, "had to go an extra three hours."

"But we can go all night long and then some," Fritz chimes in, smiling a mouth full of bright teeth at you as he leans his chair back on its hind legs, "ain't that right, boys?"

"Only if we're drillin'," Arty says, pushing his beaten-up glasses up his face across the table from you, "siftin's no good. You eat seeds siftin'."

"We haven't eaten any seed yet," Fritz fires back, his eyes dancing, "and siftin's less noisy than drillin'."

>Found anything interesting?
>Drilling can get pretty loud.
>You sure you haven't swallowed any seed?
>Write In
>>
>>36278398
>>Found anything interesting?
>>
>>36278398
>>Found anything interesting?
>>
>>36278398
>>Found anything interesting?

Man I don't know what the fuck they are talking about.
>>
>>36278398
Forgot to add trip.
Crashing hard from the caffeine.
>>
>>36278398
>Drilling can get pretty loud.
>Found anything interesting?


Innuendoes, innuendoes everywhere.
>>
>>36278398
>>Found anything interesting?
>>
>>36278398
>Found anything interesting?
>>
>>36278398
>perfcor
>underground digging
>in a sector that might belong to the plutonix megacorp
>eating seeds

All this Greek mythology. Where will it end?
>>
>>36278398
>"What do you mean by eating seed?"
>Found anything interesting?
>>
>>36278398

Eating seed indeed. Fritz is playing it off as a joke, but you can see Georgie and Jake blanch a little at the phrase. It's one of the worst things that can happen to you in the old underground city they're digging through.

From what you've heard, once someone swallows the seed, they're good as dead. It's only a matter of time until humanity's first (and hopefully only) foray into nanoscale constructors turns its victims into a bleeding mass of carbon-fiber blades, using their own biomass as raw material.

Apparently, the little things can crawl through filters, and once you're infected, you can't leave the Perfcor digsite. There's a generous bonus for any dependents, though.

Why do they keep digging? In the hope of finding something worth it in the wreckage.

"Found something interesting?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at Fritz, but not rising to his bait.

"Sure we did," Fritz says, "and had to go overtime to uncover it all, but Jake's the one that saw it first. Tell her, Jake," he finishes as Maggie comes back with everyone's coffee. It's hot, and freshly brewed, with a decent aroma. It's probably some of the best coffee they'll ever get, you think, unless they make it out of here somehow.

You can't help but smile at Jake being put on the spot in front of your and Maggie, who stuck around to hear his recital.
>>
>>36278905

"Well, uh," he begins awkwardly, but picks up speed as he goes, "we were siftin', and I thought the floor sounded funny, ma'am," he says, glancing at you quickly, then back to his coffee again, "and I took up a couple of bricks, and there was metal plate underneath, like," he says, glancing up and back down again. You can almost see him blushing beneath the dust as he shuts off suddenly.

"And we had to dig all around the thing," Arty says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, coffee cup suspended in front of his mouth, "like someone made a safe the size of a room. Lucky they didn't have us open it - I'm betting there's seeds inside."

>Write In
>>
>>36278921
That is quite a lovely set of ears you have to hear that then. Why would you bet there is seed inside?
>>
>>36278921
That sounds like it could be big!
>>
>>36278921
"So a vault then?"
>>
>>36278921
"oh fun, i wonder what could be inside"
the ruins of Fort Knox?
>>
>>36278921

"Why do you say that?" you ask, looking at him over his coffee cup, "sounds like it could be a big find."

"Big danger," Arty says, as Maggie leaves. Definitely a glass-half-full guy, you think, sipping on your own coffee, "maybe it's some sort of lab, where the seeds started."

"You think we found the big Seed?" Georgie says, "but the vault's too small for a lab. Maybe it's gold."

"i wonder what it could be," you say, thinking about all the things that might be buried in a room-sized vault in the old city. It could be quite literally anything.

"It's probably some lucky loaded bastard," Fritz says, his chair coming forward suddenly, his hands slamming on the table, "with a rebreather, a ton of food, and some hot chicks."

And with that, the food arrives, in all its greasy glory. You dig in, savoring the fried foods as the boys rip into them like starving wolves.

Not a bad description of the lean, hungry pack with their gray skins and their clear leader, hunting for something, anything, in a cold and barren place.

You wonder if they'll even shower before collapsing into sleep, as you watch Georgie start to nod off over his empty plate.

>Anything further you want to ask them
>pay for your food and leave
>Write In
>>
>>36279417
>>pay for your food and leave
"Get some sleep guys, you look like you could use it. Thanks for the chat."
>>
>>36279417
lol vault 69

>Anything further you want to ask them
so, there's really no way to be protected from these "seeds"?
>>
>>36279417
>pay for your food and leave
>>
>>36279568
>>36279471
come on guys, there's probably a "too expansive for them/mass production" thing WE could afford to check up that vault
>>
>>36279599
Alright sure, lets ask this >>36279507, maybe do some research and how to protect ourselves and maybe check it out.
>>
>>36279417

You finish your food, enjoying the last bite of mashed potato. It's a good palate cleanser after all the crispy fried things.

It looks like not even the coffee and his nerves could keep Jake awake. He's slumped in his chair, breathing deeply. Georgie isn't doing much better, and Fritz's smile has melted into a slack-jawed stare of glassy oblivion as his fork makes the journey from plate to mouth robotically.

"So there's nothing to protect against the seeds?" you ask Arty, who seems to be the most alert of the group.

He looks at you from half-lidded eyes, his fork-filled hand paused in front of his mouth. You see something sharp in those eyes for a second, something that might stab someone someday, if they pick it up wrong.

Something that might be forged into a good weapon.

"Maybe a oxygen tank rig," he says after a moment's thought, "but if any got on you while you're wearing it, you're still dead when you take it off," he says, stabbing the air with his fork to emphasize the point.

"You ever heard that this whole area used to be seeded?" you ask him, and watch his reaction as you sip your coffee. Nothing, then a slight clench of the eyebrows, a twitch of the jaw. A real reaction, or acting? You're not sure, and continue, "Plutonix was founded by some bastards smart enough to figure out how to kill the seeds, or crazy enough to not care about them," another sip, "that's how a new corp managed to take a whole sector for itself and go mega within a few years of its founding."

"Yeah," he says, "I've heard that one a couple times. Whatever they use to kill it doesn't work underground, they say," he tells you, spearing a forkful of hash browns, "and drones don't do so hot down there either - that's why they use us. And they don't pay bad," he says, waving the forkload around, "I'll give 'em that. Especially with the low cost of living here."
>>
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>>36279859

Hell, that's why you live here. The specter of the seed drives rents and corp protection costs down, even if it is half-buried history.

There's more to this guy than the young punk you saw at first glance. You catch yourself wondering why Fritz is the leader of their little group, before you remind yourself that doesn't matter.

You probably won't see any of them again, so why should you care?

"So what do you think it is?" you ask, looking him dead in the eyes as he chews, "what screws up the drones? What's wrong with the Old City?"

Alright, you saw it that time. There's something in there, a steel grating slamming down behind those eyes, something dark and formless roiling behind it.

"I wish I knew," he says, wiping his mouth, "but I don't. That's why I don't pull the big numbers on payday."

>Press him
>Leave
>Write In
>>
>>36280000
>Press him
he probably at least has a small idea

>>36279859
so, we need an old fashioned diving suit and to know what they use on the surface to remove the seeds. we go, we dig, we go back up, we get the suit sterilized or whatever and we go out rich
good plan?
>>
>>36280021
We'll also need a way to get into the vault as well.

Just playing devils avocado here but, there is also a chance there is nothing of value in the vault and it wouldn't be worth the investment and risk.
>>
>>36280057
upgraded blowtorch?
and as we already have a descent amount saved up, i'd say it's worth the FUN
>>
>>36280000
>Leave

I'm guessing that's all we're getting out of him for now, and if we get too inquisitive, and he's playing any game at all, he'll write us down as a potential enemy.

>>36280021
>bad ideas: the plan

We're a courier. If someone else digs it up and wants us to carry it, that's great.

But go in somewhere that dangerous, under corp control, by ourselves? That's asking to have something horrible happen.
>>
>>36280000
>>Leave
>>
>>36280000
>Leave
>>
>>36280057
>nothing valuable in the vault

Better to have the corp open it than us, either way.
>>
>>36280000
>Press him
Or if leave, ask for his number.
>>
>>36280000
>Leave, but get some way to contact him
>>
>>36280000
>>Leave
>>
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>>36280000

"Well," you say, pushing your chair back, "you're pretty sharp for a grunt," and he smiles, the light coating of stubble on his upper lip flexing, "but I've got to get going. Could I get your number?"

Oh, that does it. His eyes widen, and suddenly he's the young punk again, surprised that a woman's asking for his number. He catches himself within a second, "of course," he tells you, back on the ball again, "if you'll give me yours."

The two of you exchange numbers, then you go to pay at the register, tossing a final "get some sleep, you all look like you could use some," over your shoulder.

At the register, Sadie looks at you over a pair of too-large glasses, face wreathed in a fluffy halo of iron-gray hair. Her very presence seems to add warmth and color to the grim room. Well, maybe that's partially due to the naked lightbulb hanging over her head.

"I hope those boys didn't give you any trouble, miss," she says, pecking at the register's buttons, "if they did, I'll tell 'em off proper for you, hun."

"No," you tell her as she finishes, "we had quite an interesting conversation. I think I learned a good bit. You might want to make sure they don't fall asleep before they leave, though," you say with a smile.

"Their shift went over today," Sadie says, "they come here like clockwork right after it ends, and they were hours late this time. Poor boys. Glad they didn't give you any trouble."

"So are they," you say, wink at her, then turn to leave.
>>
>>36280442

You almost run into the man in blue, standing in line to pay his tab. He's a tall blond, well built, wearing sunglasses.

"Excuse me," he says in a voice that sounds familiar, although you can't quite place it.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I didn't notice you there," and walk toward the door.

"It's quite alright," he says, in a voice that you feel you've gotten acquainted with very recently.

You think about men you've met recently as you open the door. It's definitely not Paul's scholarly tones, or Davey's breathy voice. Greer?

But he's dead.

You're back out on the sidewalk, a few blocks form home, staring idly across the street at the razor-wire topped walls of a Perfco digsite. And your bruises are aching again.

>Go home and rest
>Wait here for the man in blue
>Write In
>>
>>36280453
>Go home and rest
I don't want to fuck with Wesker.
>>
>>36280453
>Wait here for the man in blue
>>
>>36280453
>Go home and rest
>>
>>36280453
>Wait here for the man in blue
if he had black hair i'd suspect it's not a man, but... let's still wait for him
>>
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>META POST

I think that's the end for tonight. I'll open the next thread (which should be tomorrow night) with whatever option wins here. If it's a tie, revote next thread.

As usual, I'll hang around here for a little bit before I hit the hay, but any questions you REALLY want answered should go to ask.fm/haikudeluge - I'll get to them eventually.
Twitter(for quest news, not my political views): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20Quest

Questions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge


SESSION'S STATS:
Phone Numbers Obtained: Arty
Delivery Completed: N/A
Bonus Objectives Fulfilled: Auto-Erotica II; Sadie's Seconds; Sitting in the Corner; Five Guys Burgers and Fries; Drillin' for Info, Siftin' for Truth
Bonus Objectives Missed: Frowning Jack's; Imperium; Ice; Barstool Neighbours; On the Fritz; Pushing, Pushing

LIST OF KNOWN PHONE NUMBERS:
Dr. Morrison, Ryan, Greer (deceased), Alice, Paul, The Bookstore, Arty
>>
>>36280610
Thanks for the thread HD.
>>
>>36280610
thanks for running
>>
>>36280651
>>36280692

You're welcome.

Glad you enjoyed it. (If you didn't, rant at me here, on twitter, or on my ask.fm. I'm always looking for things to improve.)
>>
>>36280453
>Wait here for the man in blue
Motorcop!



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