The pink neon gave the synthetic flesh a slight glow, it was easily identifiable for those in the know and it made them nervous.
“Next.”
The queue for the club was abnormally large tonight, lots of corporate uniforms and a plenty of flashes of red peeking out above neck lines and cuffs. Must have been a rally nearby.
“Next.”
Despite the threat of Red Flag violence they were calm, granted a lot of this was the one hundred thousand NP chemical nerve balance system but also it just meant upping their time table. They would have to take the target out on contact.
“Next.”
New security protocols had kept the que moving slowly, they were searching and confiscating everything even flick knives. Something had the Syndicate twitchy, they’d taken over so much territory so fast and they knew a reckoning was due.
“Next.”
Soon. They could see the target clearly now without having to move from their “don’t give a fuck stance.” Soon the job would be done and they could head home.
“Fuck you. Can’t you fucking read the sign! No guns, no exception.”
Dirty cops, they recognised the face of one of them from a holographic wanted poster. “The Big Clean UP” City PD had been calling it. They knew better though, it was just PR exercise after all the recent problems. Round up a few well known faces, lock them away and win the hearts and minds of the down trodden. What a joke.
“Next.”
Third in line now. The Dreamweaver was waved through, interesting and something to note for future operations, must be some kind of local celebrity.
“Next.”
The suit and his protection looked out of place, crisp black lines, tight cropped hair and a face designed to both comfort but also horrify with the slightest movement. Big bride and the protection was taking her Zee Munition E-Type Caseless Compact Assault Rifle in with her. A nice choice of gun, a classy woman indeed.
“Next.”
Time for action. It had been a while but the job was easy enough.
Between the ribs, cut left hard and twist. The file said two hearts, need to take both out at the same time or the bastard would walk away with a nice scar and nothing else. They thumbed the fifty new pound the family had paid them, it was all they had but Synth or not they needed to eat…
***
We still have day and weekend tickets for our unique cyberpunk larp experience this August.
