#cloudboxer

[lyokowarrior-yumiishiyama]

(hiiiiii friiiiiiieeeeeend. hiraku is aliiiiiiiiiive.)

//AAHHH! HIIIII! How are you?!

[redshines]

Fiō

 Junction Janet's only roughly shared the menu of the one above, with some basic flatbreads changed to fit the small resources of the Spine and some other basic foods. It managed a reasonable trade with those who wandered the depths, though Topsiders hardly ever managed to make their way far enough in to find the rough gem. The restaurant bore its name proudly from the fact that it was situated in a broken-down and ripped-apart rail car that had stopped in the crossroads of two tunnels. Long ago people had taken two of the five carriages and placed them on each side of the original line on the tracks to form a lopsided X. While it must have taken a huge amount of work, the whole thing seemed apparently worth it. Diners could sit in dilapidated seats next to grimy windows and pay for a reasonable amount of flatbread to fill them up until next time.

A scruffy man by the moniker of Dorn Nobody idly chewed on the latest flavor of Tomato Surprise while he waited. That Boxer fellow was supposed to come around with the goods he'd been waiting for tonight, and he'd naturally chosen a place with a lot of people to make the exchange. No one would even think of doing something like this in private in case of betrayal. Besides, nobody cared. Illegality was the whole nature of the place. You just had to be tougher than the other person and have more friends, and Dorn had plenty of both.

He shifted his weight and tried to peer at the window. The section around Janet's had been renovated due to efforts from the owner and customers to make it almost as safe a place as the Central Market. This encouraged more people to come and brought in even better business. Win-win, he reflected with a grim smile.

A black-clad figure entered through one leg of the X and brushed past his row of seats. The first thing his eyes noted was that they were too small and lean to be the man he was waiting for. He glanced again from behind and noted the curves. Probably female, but who could really tell?

In any case, here was Boxer Nobody striding toward him. Thoughts of that other Nobody went to the back of his mind.

[wethecamerata]

Nobody [cloudboxer]

The city is closing in, jagged as teeth. At birth he was swallowed up by it, the dark towering places, the underground secrets, the bright getaways - they subsumed him. Now he sits with his back to a defaced wall not yet noticed to be reduced back to perfection. These are the places he seeks, where the command of those so distant above him is not absolute. You have two choices, Mr. DeLacey. The sky is violet tonight. There is a door to his left, which he knows goes down and has not shifted Chinese-puzzle-like to obscure the tunnel within. Down there was darkness, and is darkness, but this time in the pockets of his overcoat are a flashlight, and fresh water, and matches. And a plaster. You can go to prison for this and all of your other crimes. He takes a deep breath and stands. One, two - he kicks the door open, broken as its handle is, with a screech of metal on worn brick. Such places can still exist, with few enough eyes to notice. The placard overhead is plastic, and says something about stations. Before him is the staircase, metal with designs in a fashion some four years out of date. Positively ancient, and rusting-black. Or we can find you innocent. Your Selections are soon - I believe that a man of your calibre might enjoy 'Enforcement' and 'Logistics'. Do I make myself clear? Crystal. He spits on the floor in distaste and makes his way down the staircase rapidly, in that spring-footed step of navigating steps at speed. As the gloom becomes more complete he switches on the flashlight. The batteries are likely not new; he must make way with whatever time he has, and explore. Something down here can hide him, maybe until they have forgotten him. Or like a tomb he could become sealed in by the same caprice that left his entrance standing. But what alternative does he have? It's damp down here, and cold in a way Cloudbank's surface rarely is, but he makes his way through all the same. There must be others with the same idea as him - murderers, robbers, rapists, conmen and framed men and the unwanted detritus of Cloudbank's flock. Friends, essentially. They can't be any worse than his 'cousins' anyway. He isn't careful to remain quiet. His boots make clicks and thuds on the metal and brick he walks across.

[redshines]

Fortuna consurgit ieiunium, sed cadit velocius.

[grantofthecamerata]

[proxer] hel̕l̷ǫ he̵l͝lo hèl̴lo͝ y͢ou ͟calle̶d f͞or̨ ͞us͟ ͟we a̵re h͠er̴e ̨we ̢ar͡e h͡ere̡ ̢t͘ak̶e͡ car̶e ͞of͠ us Gr͢ant ́Ke̷nd͡r̵el͝l͢ ̀ţake car͝e

It seems this new system is experiencing a few... glitches. Perhaps this channel needed to be beta-tested for a little longer.

Speaking of, I need to give a certain Mr. Bracket a call soon. This particular issue may be more his specialty than mine.

[grantofthecamerata]

"HERE'S A COMMENT FOR YOU: YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE."

Thank you for your… well, let’s just call it feedback. We will be sure to put that deft and insightful perspective to good use in our efforts to keep Cloudbank running smoothly.

[sybilofthecamerata]

[Proxer and Sybil!]

[theroguesniper]

♚ [I've been watching you from afar. Let's just say, when Garrus is speaking in your posts, I can hear him reading your words in my head. That's how good it is. c:]

[[-claps a hand to her mouth- You have no idea how much what you just said means to me. I strive for that goal, to make my Garrus sound credible and for people to be able to really channel him and hear his voice when reading what I write.

I'm so flattered, oh gosh, thank you so much for this. So much.]]