Ayfor awoke at the crack of noon, if not a bit later and scratched himself idly. He still wore last night's clothes as he swung his feet off the bunk, boots hitting the floor, crunching something beneath them. He stretched and stood, glancing into a polished piece of metal at his reflection, "Beau'iful" he muttered at his ork-like countenance. He ran his fingers through the short, black stubble of hair on his head, grimacing as he felt the seam that switched between bone and metal under the skin. The Docs had done good work though, it barely showed except for the a line of scars and the obviously cybernetic left eye. He was fifteen, practically thirty in human years, orks live and die quickly and it was rare to see an old one roaming about.
He had a modest, somewhat hidden hole he called home. It was large enough for a room, a large storage locker he'd stolen from an abandoned warehouse and his Growler, an off-road motorcycle he'd scrimped and saved up to buy, used.
His phone rang again. Ah… that's what woke him up. And he waved the caller information to the times square marquee of his cyber eye, Doc Stitches was calling. He blearily fumbled at his phone, nothing chipped in at the moment, prompting a malaise and lethargy in his movements. After a few fumbled attempts, he answered the phone, "Wha' is it?"
"A-Four I have a.." Ayfor cut him off, "Is Ayfor" pronouncing it Eh-fur. The doc continued on, non-plussed, "You're in need of some nuyen, neh? I know a guy in need of your particular talents." There was a pause, "Meet him at the Hosako Tenements, tell 'im I sent ya. You'll know him. Suit, with a Trog nearby."
Ayfor grunted, shutting the phone down and stretching, the Hosako Tenements could barely be called apartments, they were a coffin-plex with small cubbies stacked up to sack out in.
The suit was there, a Mr. Johnson… it's always a Mr. Johnson, as well as the troll as promised and a twitchy decker, who looked fun on the dancefloor, but a bit too skinny for Ayfor's taste. Ayfor was in a bit of a foul mood, but it was brightened by the BetterThanLife module he'd loaded, the role of a rogue cop playing in the background of his mind. It had helped, he'd stopped at a Stuffer Shack on the way here and some gang bangers tried jumping him. Technically, they'd succeeded, striking him in the head with a used and dinged up copy of a katana, glancing off his cybered up skull. He'd been standing, trying to decide what to grab to eat when that had gotten his attention. He turned, another one firing a small caliber pistol, a toy, really, barely even causing a bruise through his armor. He growled and shot the closest one with his Ares Predator V pistol, punching a hole through the idiot's stomach, dropping him. The others turned and fled so he causally grabbed a box of Chunk O' Nuggets and flipped the wailing punk over, grabbing his wallet and tossed it onto the counter of the store by way of payment before heading out to make the rendezvous. He ripped open the case of Nug and gobbed 'em up quick before getting onto his growler, taking off before Knight Errant could arrive with annoying questions and a mandatory 24 in the cooler while getting a statement.
He didn't wait for the tedium of introductions, learning later the troll was named G'rulnak, the decker was Maya, and asked, "I've been told you're in the market for someone such as meself. Got problems with some folk or another"
Mr. Johnson hid a frustration roiling just beneath the surface reasonably well, some gangers roughed up his sister some, her input having rolled over on her after he'd done a shady deal. She was an elf-wannabe and her poof of a bf, a sketchy twat named GnarBob had stolen some tech from the wrong blokes, acquiring two communicators with some extras added in. They wanted it and he'd lied, saying she knew where to get them. Johnson came back to his domicile and found a lieutenant and some thugs waiting for him. They gave him thirty hours to hand over the tech, or they'd return and finish the job they'd started on his sister. Apparently, they even took her ear, giving it to him as proof of the reliability of their claims.
There, all caught up now, aint we?
The building they met at was in the vicinity of the drek's favorite eating establishment. Ayfor was fairly sure it was at least slightly better than the Stuffer Shack he favored, he shrugged, noticing the almost all elf patrons within and bellied up to the bar, waiting as Johnson spoke his piece to the proprietor. Upon the named of GnarBob being mentioned, two elves stood on the far end of the bar. Ayfor watched them, fingering his holstered Predator V casually, making sure if they got too twitchy, all they'd have time for was the last few twitches one does on the floor in a pool of one's own blood. Johnson sat down with them and Ayfor listened just enough to make sure he wasn't going to lose his new payroll anytime soon.
After a few minutes, they'd found the mark had gone back to his rented out coffin, not far from the diner. They headed inside, Maya jinxing the cameras while Johnson talked to the Joeboy behind the counter, getting a room number and floor. They filed into the elevator, G'rulnak taking up the majority of the space, crouching to fit his twelve foot tall frame inside. They got off on the third floor and made a semi-circle around the door while Maya used her deck to brute force it open electronically, the lock didn't stand a chance against her. Ayfor had pulled his shotgun from the pool cue case on his shoulder and casually pointing the business end towards the doorway as he opened it. The drek was laying passed out in some of his own filth, bruised and battered, but in better shape than Johnson's sister, the coward. G'rulnak gave him a slap that might have done more harm than good and the elf blinked blearily, throwing his hands up over his head. He was picked up and sat down roughly on his bunk, Johnson kneeling before him, speaking in a low, intent tone. Ayfor didn't pay it much head until Johnson yelled, "It was my SISTER!" his voice growling as he lost composure for a moment. Ayfor thumbed the safety off, cocking the shotgun to help make a point to the elf. It almost amazed him how much that soft, metallic double click got people's attention. They tossed the room while Johnson spoke to the man, turning up two communicators of the make of the one that was supposedly taken. According to GnarBob, they were both what he took. Having both gave them options, one to explore, one to turn in to protect Johnson's sister. They took him and threw him into the trunk of the vehicle Johnson and the other two arrived in, leaving before the sirens in the distance got any closer to talk to him I more detail in the sewers below an abandoned high school in the wastes.
Johnson pumped him for all the information he could, G'rulnak helpfully breaking a finger to convince him to say more. The devices were encrypted and Maya was unable to stealthily pull the data saved on one, opting instead to start another brute force hack. It left the phone compromised and if they had to turn it in, a good tech checking it out would be able to find markers that it had been compromised.
Johnson promised that he wouldn't kill the bastard who betrayed his sister, but requested Ayfor and G'rulnak take him out into the desert with the elf's pathetic little pistol to let him find his own way home.
Ayfor pulled up next to the car as the troll stopped, an hour after they'd left. G'rulnak opened the trunk, pulling the elf out of it and tossing him on the ground. Ayfor handed G'rulnak the pistol to give to GnarBob, and only shrugged when the troll turned it on the elf, executing him.
"Well, Johnson only said 'e wouldn't be killin' him. Fair's fair." he got back onto his Growler and looked at the troll, "Here's me numba, you 'n yours call when you're ready fer the next part. I'm gonna turn in for some shut eye, 'nless Johnson has more to do."
He smirked, sliding his helmet's visor closed again and took back off into the Salish-controlled wastes to get to his hidden domicile.
