#phasmophobiia

[piperafterdark]

❝  i’m staying.  ❞

STAYING THE NIGHT PROMPTS

He's walked her home before, but never quite like this. It came in increments, a little at a time. First to the metro. Then to her stop. To the steps of the megabuilding.

The elevator.

Her door.

Inside.

She slips a vinyl from its case and places it into the cradle of the record player. The needle settles into the grooves and the music starts. She straightens, a hand coming to rest on her waist as her gaze turns to Simon.

Staying. The cynic wants to laugh. Oh how many times has someone said they would stay. How many times they've left. How many times she's shoved them away.

He won't stay, not for long, not in any meaningful way. But that's not going to stop her from playing the role she always does with that smile of hers, that tilt of her head.

"Really? Mm, doesn't look like it. Might believe you if you got a little more comfortable."

[b1oodhunt]

@phasmophobiia // one-liner call

"Trust your senses and victory will follow."

[simulamortem]

@phasmophobiia

Night City was a HIVE.

Information carried through an elaborate network of the tunnels and webs by all different clades of insect. In his time spent watching the city from high perches and dark shadows, that was what it reminded him of, as he reflected back on the evolution of its architecture, the movement of its traffic: ANTS. Moving. Living. Dying.

No one with any real idea of the scale of their lives.

Tonight his target had been in the nest of MAELSTROM. Chromed up zealots he preferred to avoid. His cultists had come from there. Had no idea if there were any left now. Didn't want to find out. But an ex Hammond scientist was among their ranks. Revenant needed to pick his brain - or whatever was left of it.

MaxTac's arrival made them all scatter like roaches. Revenant hung back, camouflaged amid the dark and metal of old, rotted industry. He recognized this group. Skull masks. Cute. Had they followed him here? A bystander might have overheard his last conversation... MaxTac meatbags could have picked up where he was headed. Or was it coincidence, and they were here for someone else? Maelstrom was a veritable buffet of CYBERPSYCHOS.

All that fancy tactical gear didn't change how easy it was to snap a neck. The simulacrum had killed one and maimed another before he was engaged with by the largest of the group. This one moved different. Reminded him of-

His hip joint was jammed with a knife, and some kind of... shock followed. He lost a couple seconds before coming to on the ground, system buzzing and burning, optics flickering. Trying to delve into shadow just made his processors stutter and something in him sting. Vocoder produced a short groan, its edges clipped with crackling static.

He hadn't been killed yet.

[nightmdic-a]

🤕

"Alright, let me see what I can do. . ."

Hands are gentle and chill to the touch against the skin, examining the rather fresh bullet hole located within his tricep. Nothing of a life-threatening injury, but one that does have her head lightly tilting with a soft breath escaping her.

"Considering there's no exit wound and from what im seeing, it looks like. . .bullet is in the muscle. I'll need to remove it before I can get this stitched up."

@phasmophobiia

[findmykin]

hi! im billy loomis from scream! im looking for anyone (no doubles sorry) if anyone remembers me being really shy/selectively mute I'd love to talk!

[piperafterdark]

@phasmophobiia

She's never actually seen someone go full cyberpsycho before. Not like this, at least. Not to the point where the attack dogs of the NCPD got called into action.

Like anyone who has lived in N.C. for more than a month, she knows that when things get serious you hunker down and don't move unless you want to end up in cross fire. And that's how she ends up crouched behind a pillar in the metro station, covered in body glitter and holding onto her gig bag like it's more precious than her own life. Because it is.

The gunfire has stopped. Other civilians are being located and told to evacuate the area so they can mark off the crime scene.

Her head turns and -- okay she does actually jump this time. The skull face didn't exactly put her at ease.

"Shit." Her hand goes to her chest, like that'll calm her suddenly racing heart. But- she knows those eyes. "Scared me."

[piperafterdark]

@phasmophobiia liked for a starter

Piper loved music. More than that, however, she loved experiencing music with people. From live shows at bars, to clubs, actual concerts, to just sitting in her shitty little apartment listening to an album -- she loved sharing music.

She hadn't actually expected Simon agree when she had made her last minute invite to see Dark Suns, had figured he might just stare at her. But, well, he'd said yes, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't kind of interested to see what happened next.

In retrospect, she'd never really seen Simon outside of work fatigues, had never actually spoken to him for more than a few minutes outside of her own work. Surely he had some interest in this since he'd taken her up on her spare ticket offer. Surely he had interests outside of being a certified attack dog.

She was right by the doors of the venue, a crowd having formed of people who were already jostling each other in a way that was probably good natured. She fit in well, which was to say, everyone around her was wearing some combination of warning colors, studs, and ample amounts of fishnet.

Arms crossed, lips oh so slightly pursed in concentration, Piper scanned the street once, twice, three times and wondered what exactly her odds were that he'd bail on her.

[piperafterdark]

@phasmophobiia

Watson, Night City Circuit Breaker

The crowd that Circuit Breaker (right now just 'Breaker' according to the broken sign out front with its neon flickering like the death rattles of a man who held on too long to life) tended to attract was made up of mostly regulars. Normal people, denizens of Night City, who didn't need a gambling parlor, or exotic dancers, or any kind of thrill beyond a round of darts or billiards.

The appeal of Circuit Breaker was in its simplicity.

Bee had been sent home, the barback had left hours ago, and Piper locked up on her own. Nothing unusual. Nothing she even thought twice about.

Night City didn't scare her.

In the back alley behind the bar, Piper paused. Hands in the pockets of her too low jeans, she took a moment to just stare out at the lights beyond, buildings and signs and neon all stacked up like a house of cards. It was as beautiful as it was overwhelming.

Then she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Two steps carried her forward, she nearly rounded the corner when someone beat her to it. It was instinct that made her step back before she could collide with the man in question.

"Ballsy to lockup alone after fucking with one of the Tyger Claws." The voice was low, meant to be intimidating, but the slightly muffled sound from a very recently busted nose kind of ruined the effect.

Piper blinked before rolling her eyes. "Back off." Her hand went to his chest, giving it a firm enough shove to send him back a step or two. "You took your L, now go home. Don't need to make this bigger than it is."

He'd been shitty earlier in the night, didn't stop when Piper told him to, so she put him in his place. Apparently he hadn't learned his lesson.

"Listen here you little bitch," anger, now, filled his voice as he pulled the pistol on his hip, as the backup he had come back with now peeled off the walls and filtered into the alley, "you're going to- you're going to apologize. Yeah. That's right. You'll apologize, and then you're going to give me all the fucking money in your wallet."

"I'm not going to do shi-" Piper's words were cut off when something hard and cold met the side of her temple.

She staggered, hand coming up to hold the side of her face as the other braced along the dirty wall of the bar. She'd been too busy looking at the idiot with the wounded ego and shaking hand to realize that while he might have been green, is friends weren't.

Her optics blurred for a moment, the blunt strike from the business end of a pistol enough to make her head spin. Enough to make hot blood pour from split skin and spread over organic fingers.