Post by Admin on Oct 7, 2022 2:38:40 GMT
Night City Dam
Night City, California NUSA
Alternate Dimension
“Things are about to kick off in OCW, and no one sees it coming, kinda like how I didn’t see “Cholo” coming, and that mistake is on me. Accountability.”
Victoria “Vee” Strader sits along the dam's concrete wall outside Night City, looking down at the mega-metropolis of technology and debauchery. The Strader sneer is almost on her face when she is here. Here she is one of the city's most revered, respected, and, most importantly, feared mercenaries. The people whisper her name in hopes of not invoking her by saying it too loud. Vee was one glorious gig away that she doesn’t walk from becoming a true legend in this debaucherous city.
Vee swivels around, hopping off the barricade onto her feet. Bringing her index finger up, pressing her right temple gently, hearing the hunter-green coloured Quadra Type-S Avenger revving towards her. This was one of her favourite things about this world she found herself spending most of her time. She could ride her ARCH motorcycle to one location, autopilot it home, and call on her Quadra or whatever vehicle registered to her.
“Brooklyn is at The Mox up in Kabuki; I’ll surprise her at work with a Spunky Monkey drink.”
The sun began its descent over the wastelands, which succumbed long ago to the pollution and extinction of its ecosystem. Vee finds it to be oddly peaceful late at night. The air was still and silent, letting her hear herself think. In the city, there was always a scream, siren, gunshot, and the hum of it, like it was alive, like Frankenstein’s monster. The street lights illuminate Vee’s face, the cyberware visible on her face shining from it. She was getting close to the club, The Mox, when her ‘Holo’ went off.
“Rogue, always running clitterference on me.”
“Rogue, what do I owe the pleasure?”
Vee’s Kiroshi Optics fires up, and the smirk of the silver-haired green-eyed Queen of the Fixers is in her field of vision; it’s like FaceTime back home but in her eyes. Rogue always seemed to have a knack for getting in the way of intimate time between Vee and Brooklyn; hell, half the time, Vee swears it was on purpose.
“Darlin’ Vee, this job has your name all over it,” she says. The confidence in her tone that Victoria would take it. This usually pisses off the spawn of the Raven and Cowgirl, but she buries it. Rogue could make or break her here in this place.
“I thought you weren’t ever gonna use a “gonk” like me after the last gig, choom,” Victoria smirks for the holo, and Rogue laughs. The Veteran Fixer appreciated Vee’s ability to laugh off a failed mission. Vee’s last gig for Rogue wasn’t necessarily a failure, but it drew too much attention from everyone involved.
“I’d be a gonk not to look past it. There is a secret meeting taking place at the No-Tell Motel over in the Kabuki Slums; I’m sure you know where I mean,” Rogue’s smug nature is on full display, and Victoria responds in kind.
“Yeah, I call bullshit. Like you have never spent a few hours at the No-Tell,” she quips back, getting a snicker from the silver-haired fox. “So, do you want me to crash it or find out what’s going on.”
“Both. Yer gonna eavesdrop on the meeting, record it on your Holo, then you are gonna put this man down, followed by delta’ing the fuck out of there.”
Twenty Minutes Later…
Vee’s Quadra Type-S66 rolls up quietly to the back door of the No-Tell Motel. To her left is a chain-linked fence that overlooks the polluted bay of the Pacific Ocean front city. The smell was something everyone got used to in their day to day. Checking her signature ponytail, she hacks the security pad with the cyberoptic implants installed inside her head. The door slides open, and she walks in, pulling the hood from the long grey jacket Vee wears to conceal her weaponry and identity. The Kiroshi Optics installed in place of her left eyeball is set to blur out her face on security cameras. Still, her body was clear as day, so the jacket was necessary on certain gigs, even if it was almost a hundred degrees at Night this time of year.
“Alright, Rogue sent me the access card for room… 214. They are in the room beside me… 215. Ok, let's get set up.”
Victoria sits on the edge of the heart-shaped bed, scanning the room with her optics to ensure this isn’t an elaborate setup. Between Outcast (her twin Veronica’s boyfriend) trying to kill her, NetWatch trying to melt her brain every time she steps into the NET and Kristopholis Strader back home working to turn her against Auntie Tamika, she had every reason to be paranoid.
“Let’s be quick about this, Vee.”
Vee managed to slide in and out via the fire escape and had set up her listening devices. She recently upgraded her spy equipment, and through sonar technology, the way the sound bounced off its surroundings, Vee could get a visual on the person(s) being spied on. It couldn’t depict faces, but height, weight, and overall shape could be made out.
One by one, the three individuals arrive. Steve Hoffstetter of The Armada, Laureline Musk of NetWatch and Deputy Mayor Weldon Holt. The meeting wasn’t providing anything of use until she heard Holt talk about the data shards he gave to Steve and Laureline. Victoria calls up Rogue on the Holo.
~ Attempting Connection… Secure-Link established ~
“Vee, what is it?”
“Nothing vital has been said, but Holt gave The Armada gonk and NetWatch witch data shards. What’s the play here?”
“You will secure one of those data shards and bring it to a secure location. I will upload it to you once you have it. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get to it and delta the fuck out of there.”
Victoria ensures her gear is gathered and exits via the fire escape. Vee knows they’ll all leave separate from one another, and seeing Laureline’s Caliburn out back (one of the most, if not the most, expensive vehicles a person could spend their hard-earned Eurodollars on), she’ll wait for her there.
Kristopholis and Marisol Strader Residence
Dallas, Texas USA
Our Dimension
“Can there be one dimension where I’m not playing super spy?”
Vee is in the home office of her 3rd cousin, sitting in a modern-style black leather chair in front of a large mahogany desk finished with a red stain varnish, watching him closely. His dark eyes flicker a similar fire to her own as he lays out his plan, taking a very big risk in doing so.
“I have been launching small cyber attacks on Strader Inc. for a while now, slowly dismantling their proxy servers and firewalls,” he says, leaning back in a black leather highback chair. His hands grip the armrests as he contains his excitement. “Doing so makes the security system SI has developed for multi-national corporations look like a joke. The shareholders are already uneasy with the inexperienced Chairwoman/CEO/COO, and if the stocks start to dip, and they will, an emergency meeting will be called.”
Vee’s head tilts slightly to the right and unleashes a devilish grin.
“And with Aunt ‘Nessa running her own whiskey distillery, mom being sick, and only a Strader being allowed to sit in that chair, you will most likely take the seat. Pretty clever. Why tell me this? What makes you think I would even want to help you in this quest to destroy part of our family?”
“Understanding. That’s what.”
Vee lightly scoffs and gently shakes her head.
“And what makes you think I understand?”
Every Strader has the “sneer” but his sneer is more sinister-like in nature.
“My Father, Ryan “Black Angel” Strader, was treated as a second-class citizen because he was the second born and the bastard son of our grandfather, William Strader. Father had always planned to take away the company from William. Still, he died before he could do so and your grandfather, my Uncle Scott, made sure no one could pull the rug from under him, the same as your mother when she took the reigns. But it was your mother,” he says, standing up from his seat, walking around the side of the desk to sit beside his younger cousin, “was the one who took it public, putting all the kin on the board. However, as time passed, they slowly stepped away, leaving just my father on the board. When he died last month, I inherited his seat and his goal of a hostile takeover. Meghan, she was a ruthless Chairwoman and CEO. Anything she wanted, she made happen and was always watching everyone but Tamika; she is naive and lacks that cutthroat mentality. She let Thaddeus Duke waltz into OCW when she was legally in the right.”
Vee raises her whole brow and gently nods.
“Where exactly do I fit in?”
His sneer widens with a touch of glee.
Victoria sits on the side of her ARCH Motorcycle seat, her signature ponytail in place.
“Joeseph “Ace” Buongiorno. I have to say, when James Raven forwarded me the card for my next match, I cringed when I read your name. Not because I am afraid of you or think you are superiorly skilled, but rather because you don’t really impress me. While I’m not one to walk around sniffing my own ass, feeling if I could bottle it, I would make a mint, when it comes to opposition like you?”
“It’s kinda hard not to think that way.”
“Now, I let myself get screwed over on the debut Monday Night Brawl. I had Lexi Gold done, dead to rights, and that sneaky little pendejo got one up on me, stealing the victory of what should have been my debut win. Fool me once, shame on you, but there won’t be a chance for that little calrone (or anyone) to take from me what is rightfully mine.”
Vee raises her brow up, giving a nod.
“A gifted jock throughout high school and college, I think both you and I know those will be your glory years when it comes to the sport of wrestling. I may not have been a top-notch athlete like you were in those days, but I am a naturally gifted wrestler. I come from a stock of champions; The Raven, a talented singles wrestler who, in his early forties, was waltzing around the community with four title belts in four different companies. My mom was a tag team wrestling clinic for the better part of two decades. Without my no-quit nature, Veronica would’ve never been able to become the greatest TransAtlantic Champion in OCW history. Don’t believe me? Look what happened when our minds were split from each other.”
Vee holds out her palms and smiles as she places her hands behind her on the seat.
“I have stated it before, but I will lay it out again because some are just too stupid to grasp it: I want the WGWF TV Title. See, for me, it’s all about which title I find can make me the most relevant. Everyone always chases after the World title, the United States/Intercontinental/Whatever title, etcetera. The title doesn’t make the wrestler; the wrestler makes the title. The TV Championship will put me front and centre of every BRAWL, and when I make my way through the division, become its champion, and I will make it the most relevant championship in the WGWF.”
Swinging her leg over to straddle the bike, she fires the ignition.
“So when I send you packing to your 1987 Camaro Iroc Z, I want you to remember, Joey, that I gave you fair warning. That warning?”
The Strader sneer creeps across her face.
“God forgives.”
“I don’t.”
With that, Vee peels off into the horizon.
Night City, California NUSA
Alternate Dimension
“Things are about to kick off in OCW, and no one sees it coming, kinda like how I didn’t see “Cholo” coming, and that mistake is on me. Accountability.”
Victoria “Vee” Strader sits along the dam's concrete wall outside Night City, looking down at the mega-metropolis of technology and debauchery. The Strader sneer is almost on her face when she is here. Here she is one of the city's most revered, respected, and, most importantly, feared mercenaries. The people whisper her name in hopes of not invoking her by saying it too loud. Vee was one glorious gig away that she doesn’t walk from becoming a true legend in this debaucherous city.
Vee swivels around, hopping off the barricade onto her feet. Bringing her index finger up, pressing her right temple gently, hearing the hunter-green coloured Quadra Type-S Avenger revving towards her. This was one of her favourite things about this world she found herself spending most of her time. She could ride her ARCH motorcycle to one location, autopilot it home, and call on her Quadra or whatever vehicle registered to her.
“Brooklyn is at The Mox up in Kabuki; I’ll surprise her at work with a Spunky Monkey drink.”
The sun began its descent over the wastelands, which succumbed long ago to the pollution and extinction of its ecosystem. Vee finds it to be oddly peaceful late at night. The air was still and silent, letting her hear herself think. In the city, there was always a scream, siren, gunshot, and the hum of it, like it was alive, like Frankenstein’s monster. The street lights illuminate Vee’s face, the cyberware visible on her face shining from it. She was getting close to the club, The Mox, when her ‘Holo’ went off.
“Rogue, always running clitterference on me.”
“Rogue, what do I owe the pleasure?”
Vee’s Kiroshi Optics fires up, and the smirk of the silver-haired green-eyed Queen of the Fixers is in her field of vision; it’s like FaceTime back home but in her eyes. Rogue always seemed to have a knack for getting in the way of intimate time between Vee and Brooklyn; hell, half the time, Vee swears it was on purpose.
“Darlin’ Vee, this job has your name all over it,” she says. The confidence in her tone that Victoria would take it. This usually pisses off the spawn of the Raven and Cowgirl, but she buries it. Rogue could make or break her here in this place.
“I thought you weren’t ever gonna use a “gonk” like me after the last gig, choom,” Victoria smirks for the holo, and Rogue laughs. The Veteran Fixer appreciated Vee’s ability to laugh off a failed mission. Vee’s last gig for Rogue wasn’t necessarily a failure, but it drew too much attention from everyone involved.
“I’d be a gonk not to look past it. There is a secret meeting taking place at the No-Tell Motel over in the Kabuki Slums; I’m sure you know where I mean,” Rogue’s smug nature is on full display, and Victoria responds in kind.
“Yeah, I call bullshit. Like you have never spent a few hours at the No-Tell,” she quips back, getting a snicker from the silver-haired fox. “So, do you want me to crash it or find out what’s going on.”
“Both. Yer gonna eavesdrop on the meeting, record it on your Holo, then you are gonna put this man down, followed by delta’ing the fuck out of there.”
Twenty Minutes Later…
Vee’s Quadra Type-S66 rolls up quietly to the back door of the No-Tell Motel. To her left is a chain-linked fence that overlooks the polluted bay of the Pacific Ocean front city. The smell was something everyone got used to in their day to day. Checking her signature ponytail, she hacks the security pad with the cyberoptic implants installed inside her head. The door slides open, and she walks in, pulling the hood from the long grey jacket Vee wears to conceal her weaponry and identity. The Kiroshi Optics installed in place of her left eyeball is set to blur out her face on security cameras. Still, her body was clear as day, so the jacket was necessary on certain gigs, even if it was almost a hundred degrees at Night this time of year.
“Alright, Rogue sent me the access card for room… 214. They are in the room beside me… 215. Ok, let's get set up.”
Victoria sits on the edge of the heart-shaped bed, scanning the room with her optics to ensure this isn’t an elaborate setup. Between Outcast (her twin Veronica’s boyfriend) trying to kill her, NetWatch trying to melt her brain every time she steps into the NET and Kristopholis Strader back home working to turn her against Auntie Tamika, she had every reason to be paranoid.
“Let’s be quick about this, Vee.”
Vee managed to slide in and out via the fire escape and had set up her listening devices. She recently upgraded her spy equipment, and through sonar technology, the way the sound bounced off its surroundings, Vee could get a visual on the person(s) being spied on. It couldn’t depict faces, but height, weight, and overall shape could be made out.
One by one, the three individuals arrive. Steve Hoffstetter of The Armada, Laureline Musk of NetWatch and Deputy Mayor Weldon Holt. The meeting wasn’t providing anything of use until she heard Holt talk about the data shards he gave to Steve and Laureline. Victoria calls up Rogue on the Holo.
~ Attempting Connection… Secure-Link established ~
“Vee, what is it?”
“Nothing vital has been said, but Holt gave The Armada gonk and NetWatch witch data shards. What’s the play here?”
“You will secure one of those data shards and bring it to a secure location. I will upload it to you once you have it. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get to it and delta the fuck out of there.”
Victoria ensures her gear is gathered and exits via the fire escape. Vee knows they’ll all leave separate from one another, and seeing Laureline’s Caliburn out back (one of the most, if not the most, expensive vehicles a person could spend their hard-earned Eurodollars on), she’ll wait for her there.
Kristopholis and Marisol Strader Residence
Dallas, Texas USA
Our Dimension
“Can there be one dimension where I’m not playing super spy?”
Vee is in the home office of her 3rd cousin, sitting in a modern-style black leather chair in front of a large mahogany desk finished with a red stain varnish, watching him closely. His dark eyes flicker a similar fire to her own as he lays out his plan, taking a very big risk in doing so.
“I have been launching small cyber attacks on Strader Inc. for a while now, slowly dismantling their proxy servers and firewalls,” he says, leaning back in a black leather highback chair. His hands grip the armrests as he contains his excitement. “Doing so makes the security system SI has developed for multi-national corporations look like a joke. The shareholders are already uneasy with the inexperienced Chairwoman/CEO/COO, and if the stocks start to dip, and they will, an emergency meeting will be called.”
Vee’s head tilts slightly to the right and unleashes a devilish grin.
“And with Aunt ‘Nessa running her own whiskey distillery, mom being sick, and only a Strader being allowed to sit in that chair, you will most likely take the seat. Pretty clever. Why tell me this? What makes you think I would even want to help you in this quest to destroy part of our family?”
“Understanding. That’s what.”
Vee lightly scoffs and gently shakes her head.
“And what makes you think I understand?”
Every Strader has the “sneer” but his sneer is more sinister-like in nature.
“My Father, Ryan “Black Angel” Strader, was treated as a second-class citizen because he was the second born and the bastard son of our grandfather, William Strader. Father had always planned to take away the company from William. Still, he died before he could do so and your grandfather, my Uncle Scott, made sure no one could pull the rug from under him, the same as your mother when she took the reigns. But it was your mother,” he says, standing up from his seat, walking around the side of the desk to sit beside his younger cousin, “was the one who took it public, putting all the kin on the board. However, as time passed, they slowly stepped away, leaving just my father on the board. When he died last month, I inherited his seat and his goal of a hostile takeover. Meghan, she was a ruthless Chairwoman and CEO. Anything she wanted, she made happen and was always watching everyone but Tamika; she is naive and lacks that cutthroat mentality. She let Thaddeus Duke waltz into OCW when she was legally in the right.”
Vee raises her whole brow and gently nods.
“Where exactly do I fit in?”
His sneer widens with a touch of glee.
Victoria sits on the side of her ARCH Motorcycle seat, her signature ponytail in place.
“Joeseph “Ace” Buongiorno. I have to say, when James Raven forwarded me the card for my next match, I cringed when I read your name. Not because I am afraid of you or think you are superiorly skilled, but rather because you don’t really impress me. While I’m not one to walk around sniffing my own ass, feeling if I could bottle it, I would make a mint, when it comes to opposition like you?”
“It’s kinda hard not to think that way.”
“Now, I let myself get screwed over on the debut Monday Night Brawl. I had Lexi Gold done, dead to rights, and that sneaky little pendejo got one up on me, stealing the victory of what should have been my debut win. Fool me once, shame on you, but there won’t be a chance for that little calrone (or anyone) to take from me what is rightfully mine.”
Vee raises her brow up, giving a nod.
“A gifted jock throughout high school and college, I think both you and I know those will be your glory years when it comes to the sport of wrestling. I may not have been a top-notch athlete like you were in those days, but I am a naturally gifted wrestler. I come from a stock of champions; The Raven, a talented singles wrestler who, in his early forties, was waltzing around the community with four title belts in four different companies. My mom was a tag team wrestling clinic for the better part of two decades. Without my no-quit nature, Veronica would’ve never been able to become the greatest TransAtlantic Champion in OCW history. Don’t believe me? Look what happened when our minds were split from each other.”
Vee holds out her palms and smiles as she places her hands behind her on the seat.
“I have stated it before, but I will lay it out again because some are just too stupid to grasp it: I want the WGWF TV Title. See, for me, it’s all about which title I find can make me the most relevant. Everyone always chases after the World title, the United States/Intercontinental/Whatever title, etcetera. The title doesn’t make the wrestler; the wrestler makes the title. The TV Championship will put me front and centre of every BRAWL, and when I make my way through the division, become its champion, and I will make it the most relevant championship in the WGWF.”
Swinging her leg over to straddle the bike, she fires the ignition.
“So when I send you packing to your 1987 Camaro Iroc Z, I want you to remember, Joey, that I gave you fair warning. That warning?”
The Strader sneer creeps across her face.
“God forgives.”
“I don’t.”
With that, Vee peels off into the horizon.
