Cyberpunk

[automatmods]

CYBERPUNK

The world may have crumbled into chaos, but at least you have some pretty sweet tech. Hack your way to liberation. Make a robot friend. Lose yourself in a VR world. And do it all with that 80's neon view of a distant future. ⇨ Post a top level with your character and canon. Include any preferences you may have. If you're feeling bold, write a starter! ⇨ Tag around, make your own world. ⇨ Please mark any potentially triggering content

Comments

[moralabsolutism]

[Rorschach was a private detective who seemed to always have a case despite living in the worst part of the town. What his real identity was no one knew, for he hid his face behind a mask with tech that not even the biggest eggheads could figure out how it worked. Despite his gruff and prickly personality, he had a soft spot for hopeless causes and downtrodden people.

He was in the middle of a case right now, something involving a string of missing hackers, and had stopped by for some food. It was pouring rain, but he seemed unaffected despite the water soaking through his fedora, mask, and leather trench coat. Eliot sometimes heard things that he didn't, and besides, the food was delicious.]

Grilled cheese. With avocado.

[90minutesofsleep]

They'd been getting ready to pack up for the night, or at least move to another street, one that would be busier when the bars let out, but then there was a customer, and the closest thing they had to a regular.

Eliot just nodded once, flicking a brief salute with a spatula before getting to work. Some people came for the show as much as for the food, because Eliot in particular was fluidly ambidextrous, switching tools and ingredients from one hand to the other as needed, and between him and his assistants -who always seemed to know what he needed where- it was like some combination of well-rehearsed dance and old-time hibachi chef.

But a single sandwich, even one with avocado, was an easy enough task that Eliot could handle it himself, and it was only moments before it was on the flat top, and maybe five minutes total before it was flipped onto a plate, deftly sliced and set in front of Rorschach, "If you've got something I haven't heard yet, it's on the house."

[moralabsolutism]

He hangs out under the eaves of the food truck, taking his off his fedora, and shaking off the water that had accumulated on his hat, watching Eliot intently as the strange blobs of his mask move around. It truly was fascinating to watch the man at work. The black blots accumulate down towards his mouth as he talks. "Heard hacker with handle Wasp disappeared. Found neural net processor at apartment. Looked like it was forcibly ripped out."

That was probably more words then Rorschach has spoken to anyone all month. He's not the chatty type, but Eliot is one of the few people he sees on a regular basis. He lifts the mask just high enough to chomp down on the sandwich. His table manners are atrocious. One might be tempted to think he was raised by wolves between his eating habits and lack of social skills.

[90minutesofsleep]

A short, sharp curse was the only response to that, and maybe that was why Eliot and Rorschach got along, neither of them really did a lot of talking, "We'd heard it was happening, hadn't heard about Wasp." And it was always 'we' because the other two were as integral to the operation of the food truck itself as they were to everything else that happened there.

He shook his head, scratching the back of his neck and squinting skyward a moment, calculating, "That makes three this week, or four." And the cops weren't being very forthcoming with any information, which didn't surprise Eliot in the slightest, it was just console jockeys going missing, not anyone that mattered in the eyes of the law.

[moralabsolutism]

He takes another bite of the grilled cheese, speaking around the food in his mouth. Clearly, his mother had never told him not to talk with his mouth full. Then again, Rorschach's mother didn't teach him a whole lot in general about societal norms.

"Four," Rorschach confirms. The cops hadn't even cared that so many were starting to go missing. They often didn't care about the denizens in the rougher part of town. They tended to let their own brand of the law reign here, which is one reason why Rorschach had stayed out of prison this long.

He pulls a handful of chips, each one no bigger then a thumbnail, and drops them on the counter of the food truck. "Found these at all crime scenes." Though one would need to squint to see it, there's a symbol lasered onto each of them: a maple leaf with initials inside of them: WOW. "Look familiar?"

[90minutesofsleep]

His brow creased, studying the chips, head tilting slowly to one side so that he could watch the light hitting it slowly pan across noting the symbol and the initials, though it wasn't one he recognized in either case, "Nope." He replied, shaking his head, "But I'm not the technical kid, either."

And of all the various chips and discs and attachments he'd seen Hardison use so far? This didn't look like any of them, which probably meant it was something new, some sort of prototype, "Might be a game extension, chat room portal, might be a damn calling card for all I know." Another little shake of his head, "Don't look familiar though, it alright if I snag one to show Hardison?"

[moralabsolutism]

Looking at it upside-down, Ivar suddenly realizes something. He turns the chip around to face him. Tilting it 180 degrees around. Suddenly, the chip doesn't read WOW, but MOM, with the leaf now pointing downwards. "Could be different initials." Something to consider as he goes through his investigation.

Rorschach nods, sweeping all but one of the chips off the countertop and back into his coat pocket. Eliot had connections where Rorschach didn't because, let's face it, the P.I. had all the social skills of a mangy alley cat. Eliot's friend would likely be able to find out more about the chip then either of them.

[90minutesofsleep]

He nodded once at that assessment, sticking the remaining chip carefully to the tacky backing of an order pad, meant to keep it from sliding on flat surfaces while it was being filled out, but a safe enough place for a chip for the time being, especially as the pad immediately went in Eliot's apron pocket, "Something to keep in mind, I'll make sure the kid gets a look at it."

A pause, debating for a moment before adding, "We'll be headed downlevel after this, be there until after the bars close, probably won't take him long to figure out what they're for." Or if there even was a 'for' and they weren't just someone's calling card. Which was to say: if Rorschach wanted to catch up with them later, Eliot would likely have more information within a couple of hours, depending on what Hardison knew and how he took the news about Wasp.

[moralabsolutism]

"Be there later." He stifles a yawn as he polishes off the sandwich. Though he seems completely unflappable and able to keep going as long as a cyborg, Rorschach was still very much human. He needs to go home, collapse into bed, and get some sleep before he's ready to take on this case again.

He gives a nod to Eliot and abruptly walks off without so much as a goodbye. It's a short walk back to the shitty apartment he calls home. He doesn't bother with the usual method of entering, instead climbing up the side of the building using the fire escape to enter through the window. He falls asleep as soon as he lies down on the bed without even taking his mask off.

When he wakes up a few hours later, he's pretty groggy. It takes him about half an hour to really get going. By the time he finally does, it's about time to go meet Eliot again.

[90minutesofsleep]

Breaking the news about Wasp had gone about as well as Eliot had expected it to, he knew the two of them hadn't been friends, but they'd run in some of the same circles, as Hackers often did. Hardison had also had an answer about the logo on the chip without even having to think about it.

Given as how a good portion of the bars on the street had already made last call, and the rest were getting close to it, the food truck was doing a steady business, and upon spotting Rorschach, Eliot tossed him a mock-salute with the sauce bottle in his hand before cocking his head towards the far side of the truck and the propped-open side door, ostensibly for air flow so that the three of them didn't roast, but Hardison detached himself from calling out orders, leaving that to Parker while he moved through to meet Rorschach there, because it was better that he gave the information directly instead of trusting that Eliot would remember it all.

"Morton Online Machines," He said by way of greeting, "Canadian company, back when it still was Canada, kind of the grandaddy of the rigs we've got now. Problem is, they went under, like, just a few years into production, during the boom when every software company out there had a cyberspace deck manufacturing branch." He shook his head, "But the chip? That's brand new tech, it's new enough that I don't have anything that could run it." Not that he would have done even if he had, "So we're talking turn of the century logo on cutting-edge technology." Where Eliot was almost taciturn to a fault, Hardison said anything and nearly everything that was on his mind, sometimes barely pausing to breathe, but never faster than other people could keep up with.