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

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[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.