few outsiders were tolerated at TOTENTANZ; you were either on good terms with ‘stromers, one yourself or looked half as fucked up as they do, because somehow, they found joy in that. luckily for octane, he was the least bad out of these options, and a good portion of maelstrom gangers just liked him for the similar implants and the holovids and bds octane released that were more on the extreme side.
as long as he entertained them, he was tolerated.
and even though he should be aware of the dangers maelstrom brought along with them– he still kind of enjoyed their company. and their club was tight.
octane had been talking with two other clearly intoxicated ‘stromers about upcoming projects he had; words like awesome explosions, truck crashes and insane blood splatter fell. the gang members seemed intrigued– until a stranger entered the conversation. somehow, despite the intense face implants, their expressions were still sour when they turned to CRYPTO, but when octane turned his head, he seemed to brighten up a bit. especially when his name dropped; he always liked meeting fans. or haters. attention’s attention.
his optics stood out from the angry red lightning surrounding them, instead a pale green, with the glass in his right one cracked. he crosses his arms and pushes his hip out, head tilting to the side; the posture may look closed-off at first, but his entire demeanor was open, inviting. that’s how he FELT, anyways.
“ in the flesh, brother. who’s askin’? “,
the stuntman asks with a nod towards the stranger, who had even heavier body mods than he himself had. they honestly looked COOL AS FUCK.
Octane turned, and Crypto’s eyes lingered on the crack in his goggles. He wasn’t sure why the thought crossed his mind, but he couldn’t help but wonder why it hadn’t been replaced. It’d be an easy repair; any Fixer in the city could patch it, and yet...
The other’s voice made him refocus, and Crypto leaned his back against the bar. He pulled his eyes away and instead scanned the club behind—always vigilant. He had to be, especially in a place like this. The Maelstromers tolerated him at best, and only because there was value in his skills.
A brief waffle between giving his name and not; if Crypto could get away with just talking business, he usually would. “Crypto,” he finally said but didn’t pull his hands from his pockets for a handshake. He hardly moved at all. “I’m told you have connections to Silva Pharmaceuticals.”
Connections, like Crypto didn’t already know everything about this man. That he was Octavio Silva, the son of Eduardo Silva himself. Always better to pretend to know less than he did, lest he scare off a potential asset.
“I need to leverage that connection. Plenty of eddies in it for you, if you’re interested.”
