Fandom Quiet life, or blaze of glory? -- CP2077 /w .quietus

[DrownInsanity]

QUIET LIFE, OR BLAZE OF GLORY?

(art copyright by Julien Gauthier)

a 1x1 between .quietus and DrownInsanity​

 

[DrownInsanity]

It was a quiet evening on a Friday night at the Lone Star Bar. Not just quiet, but an almost desolate quality filled the place that feels like you've stepped into a Texas saloon transported to the future. The walls were made of weathered wood, adorned with vintage firearms, and flags bearing the colors of the Lone Star state. as well as the old and the New United States of America. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and whisky. A sportscaster’s voice was blaring from one of the screens that showed an intense combat biking match.

The bar was long, stretching nearly the entire length of the room, with a worn wooden surface that's seen countless spills and bar fights. Behind the bar, shelves were stacked high with a variety of bourbon bottles and other liquors, as well as huge cooler that’s always filled with Broseph Lager bottles. A large 6th Street flag hung prominently behind the bar, flanked by a collage of pictures of various notable gang members, of both the dead and those still breathing.

There were several tables scattered around the room, all made of the same weathered wood as the walls and the bar, as well as some more comfortable booths with padded leather couches. Some more private rooms could be found in the back, obscured by an old-school saloon door with swinging hinges.

Ace, the hulking barkeeper, was polishing up glasses that really didn’t need any additional polishing, A few patrons were scattered around the place, but the Lone Star Bar was lacking the usual Friday- Night-buzz. It’s almost as if the patrons had developed an uncanny sense for the current mood of the owners and decided to stay away.

Those that were still hanging around, other than 6th street gangers or affiliates, were the die-hard regulars that would keep watching the game, eat their steak-sandwiches and drink their beer, even if Santo Domingo was burning down around them.


Two young men in their 20’s being the notable exception. They were sitting at one of the tables, kept company by two working girls straight out of a hooters catalogue who were obviously holding out hope for more than free drinks at the end of the night.

“The shit’s preem, man. Like… out of this world. I’ve never seen anything like it!” the guy with the short cropped hair exclaimed. The pair was talking loud enough for their voices to carry easily over the excited shouts from the screen’s speakers in the otherwise quite hushed bar.

“It’s just a BD though? Like a Porn-BD? You can scroll a million of those anywhere, like, I don’t get it” his companion with a shock of dirty blond hair that hung messily around his angular face replied.

“Just a BD my ass choom” his friend laughed. “You believe this guy?” He was looking over to one of the joytoys for support, but the girl just shrugged. “It’s not just porn” short-hair mimicked, like he was personally offended by the notion. “It’s ART, choom. Legit art. Emotional tracks off the rails! Not the blown up shit where the feedback response is dialed up to 11 and you feel like puking as soon as the headset comes off. It’s like someone is playing a song inside your body that is hitting all of these perfect notes you didn’t even know existed and then a second song comes in and there’s haptic response in all the right places. Shit can make you cry choom. Like for real. You almost feel bad for getting hard it’s so beautiful.” Short-hair’s voice was trailing off by the end, like he was getting lost in a memory.

“Didn’t know you were such a poet babe, that’s kinda hot” The joytoy to his left smiled at him, leaning forward and touching short-hair’s thigh.

“Usually he just has shit for brains, but now I’m fucking curious. Cheers to that!” his friend said, raising his bottle in salute.


At some point during their conversation, Crowbar must’ve gotten up from his booth where he was brooding with his 6th street gang mates. Now he was looming over the pair and their joytoy companions like a dark cloud.
“How about you gonks shut the fuck up” he started to growl. “This is not one of your filthy jack-off-booths and nobody fucking cares about what kind of shit you jerk off to, you get that?”

Short-hair was looking startled, raising his left palm out flat in a defensive gesture while gripping his beer more tightly.
“Hey man, I didn’t mean no disrespect. We were just talking. We can switch topics, no big.”

“Not like everybody’s talking about it anyway.” blond guy offered, not really helping.

Crowbar was already stepping forward, his hand curled to a fist, when one of the joytoys quickly touched his forearm, making him hesitate for a second.
“Leave these guys alone, they’re sweet. It was us askin’, alright? Chill.” the girl tried to calm him down.

 

[.quietus]

The City wasn't asleep. In truth, it never quite slept; not with all the lights, all the noise, and all the distractions, designed to make you want to go on, on and on, till you went broke or till you broke.

Same difference, isn't it? thought one Ariane Yeong, before reaching into the depths of her pockets. The cigarette that was squeezed between her lips made it pretty damn obvious what she was looking for, mainly because no smoke was rising from it, and the tip remained depressingly unlit. Dead, you could say, if you were into shitty metaphors.

Ariane really wasn't, but she also wasn't into unburnt tobacco. That was quickly becoming a problem. Where the fuck is--?

"Lookin' for something?"

She raised her gaze, though she did so slowly, as if Mike's entire existence was but a footnote in a book she hadn't bothered to read. And given that Ariane Yeong hadn't bothered to read most books? The act was more than just convincing. "No," she sighed, "Just standing here 'cause I thought, if I looked torn enough, I could catch a starving artist's eye, become her muse, and leave this shitty life behind. You never thought of eloping with someone?"

Mike took it in stride, because of course he did, "Not with artists. Those are some broke-ass hoes, Ari." And, since it really didn't take a genius to figure out what it was that she wanted, he pulled out a lighter of his own. "Any reason you're doing this outside? Not like they'd kick you out for that." No, not for that, and probably not for most other things either. You didn't do that kinda shit to a 6th street member -- not unless you wanted a very thorough explanation on why doing that was a supremely bad idea, and why life insurance, in turn, could be a super good idea.

An explanation written in bloody ink.

But, of course, that wasn't the problem. It wasn't even a problem per se, though Ariane still wondered how much, if anything at all, she should share. Something, something, 'protecting her reputation'; something, something, 'never living this down.' All of that was true, except that the haze from having one too many glasses earlier that night made her a little more comfortable than she perhaps should have been. "I just... like looking at the stars, I guess."

The look Mike offered her was quizzical, at best. "The stars? You can't see those for shit, Ari."

"Of course you can't," she snapped, "But they're there, ya dumbass. And maybe knowing that is enough."

"...Huh."

Oh god, I really am never living this down. All the years of posturing careful maneuvering, and for what? For her to fucking destroy it in nanoseconds? Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass!

"Let's go back inside," she cleared her throat, "I bet Jayne managed to set something on fire already."

"Sure, sure."

Notably, Jayne wasn't setting anything on fire. When the duo returned, she was sitting where they left her, staring somewhat scornfully at the bottom of her glass and even less sober than before. Eagle, the guy she most definitely wasn't fucking, had all but passed out already, but little attention was paid to that. Little attention was paid to most things, given that Jayne was about to... what, delve into another angry rant? "Fuckers," yep, definitely another angry rant, "I fuckin' swear, they can't shut up to save their fucking lives! BD this, BD that. I wish I could pull a Van Gogh and--"

"Van Gogh? Isn't that the guy who sold me molly like three weeks ago?" Mike tilted his head, "Because that was some weak shit. I really..."

To say that the look Jayne gave him was scathing was an understatement. "Shut up, you uncultured swine."

Shockingly enough, Mike deflated.

Choosing to preserve what remained of her sanity, Ariane mostly ignored the exchange. She sat down, "BD, you say?"

"Yeah, it's all everyone talks about nowadays. As if there aren't enough ways to get off already!"

Not sure if that's how it works. "I mean," Ariane shrugged, "There are enough ways to get shitfaced, too, but people still keep making new kinda booze. It's called progress, Jay-Jay."

"Call me that again and you're not walking from this bar alive."

"Uh-huh."

Bad mood was a bitch, Jay-Jay clearly hadn't recovered from hers yet, and Ariane saw no real reason to provoke her. Nothing beyond 'it might be funny,' anyway -- which wasn't even true, given than an angry Jayne was one of the least funny things out there. Still, that didn't mean she had to abandon the topic, "Don't you think it's funny, though? The whole BD thing fucking exploded, and totally out of nowhere. How did it even happen?"

 

[DrownInsanity]

Re-entering the Bar, Ariane was passed by two annoyed-looking men just exiting, who she’d seen earlier sitting a table, talking with a pair of working girls.

When Ari had left, the couples were happily chatting away. Now the happy chatter was replaced by her choom Crowbar getting chewed out by the same joytoys.

“Shouldn’t fuck with other people’s biz, not even Crow should, ’s not right”, Mike muttered under his breath to Ari.

Not that she seemed to care that much, rather returning to her other choombas.

Jayne’s angry scolding – and the current conversation - got momentarily interrupted by angry shouts from the two Hooters girls, whose small hands were grabbing for Crowbar’s leather jacket, trying to shove the Ganger around. The look on Crowbar’s face changing from anger to confusion, arms spread out to the sides.

“The fuck! Get off me! I didn’t even fucking punch ‘em! We were just talking!” he complained, trying to make a slow and tactical retreat toward Ari’s corner.

That even made Eagle perk up, who was grinning so wide at the scene that was now unfolding, you could think it was the funniest shit he had seen all year.

“Not the kind of threesome I’d like to be in the middle of”, he smirked and got a big laugh out of Mike who almost choked on his beer.

Eventually he was rescued by Domino, who was just returning from the bathrooms behind the swinging saloon doors. He quickly assessed the situation, like he usually did, and put himself in the line of fire. Like he usually did. Ari could never quite fathom how one guy could be both so smart and so utterly brain-fragged at the same time.

Crowbar got back to Ari and the others and sunk into his chair, while Domino was steering the girls towards the bar, who were clearly still annoyed, but not looking for a fistfight anymore.

“Fucking BDs man, ruining everything. Did you just see that?! The fuck did I even do, huh?” he questioned the small group.

“What I saw” Jayne said in her same pissed-off voice. “was you almost getting your ass kicked by two joytoys. Just embarrassing.”

“Like whooping their ass was the play” Eagle chuckled, still noticeably enjoying himself.

“Could’ve gotten some action. I put 20 on the girl in the skirt” Mike joined in.

“Glad you guys are still enjoying yourselves while our biz is walking out the door,” Jayne had a particularly angry scowl for Crowbar, who actually sank a bit deeper into his chair under the gaze “You’re right about the BDs, you big gonk, but you’re not helping by chasing away civilians. You just pissed off those two girls, you pissed off Ace and most importantly you pissed me off!”

“You’re always pissed off, though” Eagle chimed in matter-of-factly. This time, Mike was smart enough to hide his laughter with a coughing fit. Ariane could almost envision a very sturdy table being flipped by a steaming Jayne, but Eagle was smart enough to continue “Ari said something how all this shit got kicked off, right? You guys really should read some more.”

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and put it on the table, the holographic projector displaying an article from some magazine. Ari had seen him scroll through it earlier.

“This Alvarez chick, are you for real?” Mike had recovered enough to glance at the article. At the top it showed a big picture of a punky-looking young woman with a multi-colored undercut and some kind of Cyberware that was visible at the side of her skull, looking at a couple of screens with a very intent gaze.

Her neck and arms were covered in tattoos, and she was biting her lower lip in concentration. To Ari, it looked surprisingly sensual in a way. Whoever had taken this photo knew what they were doing. Didn’t hurt that the girl was surprisingly pretty.

“Let me see this,” Jayne said and still managed to sound angry, now mixed with curiosity, though.