Hi there! What's your name?

okay?

Right, sorry High Command. Forgive us, diverting 20% processing power to find workarounds for other implants. Suggestions for now, we're gonna have to talk our way out. We know you can do it, but we're gonna calculate any risks while you're doing it. There is a small percentile chance that, during conversation, if you make a break for it you should be able to diminish there forces and get away, but it is only within the tenth percentile.

>>243063
EM exposure seems to have broke connection to the prefrontal lobe.

Nizis.

I'm a private detective. My job is to investigate various crimes people come to me with. If they have money, of course. Crime pays well, so fighting it pays even more. Can't say it's easier, though. There's plenty of work, as always there was. Plenty of people wanting justice brought to their petty lives. More money. Authorities don't do anything that's not in benefit or protection of a member of the aristocracy or the profit margin of a corporation. More money.

Voices. There's four now. The drugs are wearing off. I can almost hear words and I'm picking up emotions. Anger and fear. The voices aren't loud, though. Maybe they're trying to keep it quiet.

...


Shit. I was upside down. The capsule's lower hatch opened from above me and I fell to the ground in a disgraceful lump. I'm nude. They're not taking a single chance with me. Almost flattering. The air's not much better out here. My vision's still blurry. All I can see is that it's somewhat dark and the floor is littered with thick cables.

I'm at the feet of three Sergals and a Talyxian. The Talyxian very angry. The Sergals are apprehensive at best.

"You killed two of my guys for what? BnEs and a few little murders here and there? You're not a fucking cop." He kicked me hard in the gut. He's talking about the thugs I blasted at a scene I was investigating. I guess they didn't make it. More dirt off the street, then.

>>243075
Ok, working Nizis. Systems are still down, trying to filter out interference. Fuckers stripped us? Ok, do what comes natural, piss them off. And of course your not a copper, boss, coppers get paid off. Working to optimize the legs so you can break your bonds.

>>243075
So the next question is: WHAT are you?

"private investigator, paid to check it out"

>>243083
A Nevrean. We're very light, very fast, very smart. But we're brittle as dry twigs and just about as strong. We're like birds. We're not too common in this region, though. More Sergals and Talyxians around here.

>>243085

"Private Investigator, paid to check it out." I say, with the closest thing to a smirk you can manage with a beak.

"Shut the fuck up." He kicked me again and I recoiled from the pain. He's wearing steel-toed boots, and he's getting angrier. I can feel the drugs wearing off. Not too much longer now and I'll be able to perform rudimentary broadcasting and reception. Senses are returning to me. I still can't feel my tail, but everything else feels fine. Vision's still blurry.

"Give me one reason not to kill you right now."

He's drawn a small firearm from his coat pocket.

offer the names of your clients. it will only buy time but some time may be all you need.

>>243114
I don't know what you can accomplish laying on the ground with a gun pointed at you, man.

Damn it! Ok, routing all power to pump up strength. It'll look like we black out for a moment, but hopefully strength should be high enough to break our bonds and kick there asses.

>>243155

Vision's returned. Reception has too. Sergals are getting restless. Probably expecting blood. They're armed with a broken chunk of pipe, an electrified knife, and a razor wire chain, respectively. This was meant to be a torture job or a slow execution. Hearing's back. There's the omnipresent clanging and grinding of the high speed crate haulers used to get large amounts of people from one point to another, and constant, sharp crackling. Sounds like electricity arcing. I'm definitely at the Silicate Mills. It's a block from my office.

I blurted "I've got things you might want to hear. Plenty of information. Wouldn't want all of that to go to waste."

"Oh, and what would you have to tell me?" He kicked me once more in the gut.

I managed to croak out "Names, addresses of clients. You can go kill all of the people that paid me to get at you."

He relaxed the arm with the gun in it more. I think this is working.

"Fine. Give me everything you know." he said, still quite clearly annoyed, but pleased that he would be making a profit out of the ordeal.

>>243158

I wouldn't have you if I did everything on my own.

>>243065
>>243081
>>243178

I don't know what gave you the idea that one was supposed to suggest like this.

okay, just slowly list them, not TOO slowly though and when you see him relax his grip on the gun snatch and bang.

>>243253

I was on my feet, then. I slowly listed the names and addresses of three clients that came to me with jobs relating to his gang. The Talyxian woman whose son he murdered, a disgruntled Encoa storeowner who's been ransacked by his thugs several times and extorted for years, and a Sergal, out of two brothers, who were run out of the region and beaten for not paying him off. The other died, and now the survivor pays out to a syndicate for protection. They're guarenteed all dead now. But I'm not plucked, yet.

Halfway through the address of the Sergal, he finished slowly bringing his gun down to his side. I lunged at him, in a desperate grab for the miniature railgun. His guys weren't expecting that. I wasn't fast enough and he was far too quick. Before I could even get a hold of his arm or the gun, he managed to raise it above his head and bash me hard over the head with the heavy grip of the weapon. I was stunned, but not unconscious. I was on the floor and couldn't find up. His thugs were on me immediately. I can't remember much past that. Only that it hurt more than you can imagine.

I was dumped outside a very low-level residential tunnel. Maybe they thought I was dead. Maybe he wants me to start paying up. Maybe he just wants me to suffer. Probably that. I don't think he's particularly interested in money. My right arm is broken, my left leg is broken, I think I fractured a few ribs, too. I'm bleeding profusely, and some of my feathers have been torn out, some are charred. My skin is burnt in places, as well. I have several shallow, cauterized stab wounds, from the knife. I can't possibly be alive.

It's a ways to go back to my office, I think. I don't have any clothes. The street is deserted, but the tunnel systems below are definitely flooded with people. They always are. I'm going to be dragging myself until I can find a synthesizer den to get some medication or something to hold me up while I can't stand up. The best way to find a den is to find a junkie. The best place to find a junkie is in the tunnels. I have some GrimmstCorp. Stahldiphyn hidden away at the office. It puts you out for a day, and speeds up your metabolism while a swarm of nanobots repair all the damage they can find. Expensive stuff. I can't believe I managed to scrounge a full dose. I could probably go find a corpse lying somewhere, and take its clothes. They might have some money on them, too. I could go around unclothed, but that would make getting people to talk to me tough. There's also the business of getting a weapon. I keep a spare rail pistol back at that office, and a few magazines of ammo, but again, it's a distance away.

I'd say head for the tunnels for a junky, with any luck you'll find an o/d victim. Then at least you'll have some clothes even if they weren't meant for a nevrean and with some luck they could have some cash or leftover drugs you could trade or sell to someone.

Take the tunnel and head towards your office. If you see a junkie on the way, go for it. If not, you're not wasting time getting back to take Stahldiphyn.

>>243551
I listened to the loud, lonely clacking of talons on the metal stairs, and watched the sides of the stairwell slowly transform from heavy plated metal to rough stone as I descended into the darker underground and prepared my mind for the relentless onslaught of intent and emotion that comes with being so close to so many people at once. It doesn't do you good. I tried to enjoy the cool air while it lasted. As I worked my way further down, the sounds became louder, the air become the thick, hot, sludge it was above ground, and my head began filling. By the time I was at the gate, I was nearly at my threshold, and was beginning to realize how hard it would be to keep going like this. Once I was actually inside, it was unbearable.
Fixyments thiefotectionslectrical stickifeinnerdustry hungralletfurnacebt bastarunackeman jobadhesiveomb aolveniltermination duehreatslowon

I can't keep focus on my own thoughts. Always something new coming in and ravaging my sanctity of mind. Can't do this. Have to do this. There's so many people, so many minds, so many thoughts. Focus.

The stone corridor is filled with every different kind of beast you could name and every race on Vilous.I guess that depends on your definition of "beast". Most of them are drastically surgically modified Southern Sergal slaves. Most of the traffic is going south, towards the main residential caverns. The rest is going north, towards the manufacturing hub of the region. There's many alleys going in each direction, some of which are definitely going to have a lab, and maybe a few will harbor a spaced out or dead addict. Or probably worse. I'm not going to be able to last long down here under this much pressure and under this much pain.

Bear with it. Keep heading back towards your office, and head into a lab on the way if you find one. If something happens, atleast you'll be closer to the office.