Blood and Chrome
Forward: I felt like writing another vampire story and I stumbled on something called World of Future Darkness with stuff combining Cyberpunk and World of Darkness. While I don't expect to see a partnership that makes this real again, I figured I'd put together my own updated version.
Sipping a glass of blood from a lifelong whiskey addict, Daniels sat at the bar of the Totanez, the only place he could find these nights that both served such a concoction, and the only one that really felt comfortable. Sure, Tinnitus was playing at volumes befitting their name rather than some drunk banging out-of-tune piano keys, but the effect was the same. It was noise, piled onto shouting and screaming, that made everything blend together.
For a moment, he was back a few hundred years ago. Sipping the same thing, real whiskey infusing the red water of the prostitute who kindly bled into a dirty glass. The reflection on a bottle segued into the sudden, insistent prodding on his shoulder.
"Hey, you! I got somthin' to tell ya!"
Daniels knocked back the rest of his drink before turning around.
The volume spiked as he faced some punk who looked like a Christmas tree got shoved into a Thanksgiving turkey.
"I thought it was you," the light show growled. "You got a lotta nerve comin' here after what you did at the old car factory!"
Daniels put a finger to his chin, thinking for a moment. "Oh, I remember now. You mean when your chooms thought you were entitled to pay after you failed the job."
"Half of us flatlined when that nomad went cyberpsycho! Could've told us he was full borg!"
"I warned ya to use the bullets I gave ya for the job. Told ya you were hittin' a solo who needed special care. Not my fault you didn't listen. Fact is, you didn't finish the job, so I had to. Told ya my boss don't pay for failures."
The lite-brite glared at the old man before shouting at him to watch his back.
"How about instead we get this over with. I'll meet you tomorrow out back at high moon."
"Don't ya mean 'high noon'?"
"I said what I meant. Besides, I'm sure you're plannin' on bringing out a few of your chooms anyway. Settin' up some sorta trap. This way, you got a full day for it and you don't have ta guess where I'll be."
Bartender handed Daniels another glass.
"Bored I take it?"
Daniels just flashed her a fanged smile and sent a message to the Prince.
"I'll be a little late tomorrow. Start without me."
The next night, he was leaning against the old brick wall, watching the hand on his pocket watch tick towards midnight, slipping it into his pocket when he heard the crunch of footsteps approaching.
The Mealstromer and his little gang, five idiots looking like plastic coated circuit board rejects, came walking up carrying shotguns, assault rifles, and a couple of disposable "Slaught-o-matic" pistols.
They didn't say a word as they lifted their guns to aim at him.
Five shots blasted out. The ganger from the previous night dropped his shotgun in surprise as he was coated in the gore and debris of his chooms' cybernetics and skulls.
Daniels holstered his revolver, tossing a second one at the feet of his opponent.
"Ready..." He warned, smiling.
The ganger grabbed the gun at his feet, taking a quick check to make sure it was loaded.
"One.... Two.... Three..."
Lightshow composed himself as quickly as he could, thinking "No way was this gonk is turning this into a quick draw duel!"
"Draw!"
Only one shot was made, the other gun barely had a chance to move. Daniels reloaded his revolver as he slowly walked up to the wreck of a body to retrieve his weapon. The scent of blood stirred the Beast, but one look told him that what ran in the veins of these punks was about as real as the cocaine they were snorting half an hour ago.
A jingle sounded in his ear before he heard a familiar voice. Feminine and polite, but with the underlying anger of a saloon matron being offered credit.
"Done playing with your food? I need you back here about the Arasaka mole. Their domitor says they found something and I'm NOT losing another schematic to a Sabbat or Anarch ambush."
Back at Biotechnica, Daniels drew few looks, despite his preference for dusters and denim contrasting against the pressed suits and other formal wear. Solos were an accepted sight in his division, and he was a known regular, even if his title wasn't common knowledge.
Entering the boardroom, the Prince, a woman with a severe look highlighted by her almost imperceptible fangs, looked at his attire with disgust, as if she felt the vacuum and dust collectors in the scanning room should have removed her Sheriff as well. A nervous male sat at the table as well, a few pages of data before him, displaying minimal cyberware, except for an extra port near the inside of his elbow that was currently allowing blood to drip into the crystal bottle a servant with silver/chrome skin poured from, filling a fluted wineglass.
"You just missed our illustrious guest from Arasaka," the Prince stated disdainfully.
"Oh? This isn't him?" Daniels asked with a smirk, gesturing to the man at the table.
The Prince scoffed.
"In that suit? No. Their domitor at Arasaka though was just here. It seems that a deal is being brokered with Night Corp and Raven of all companies."
"Interesting, but I don't see how this would involve me. Wouldn't one of the Nosferatu be a better fit?"
"I'd agree, if it were that simple. No, the intel provided indicates that this deal is being done through intermediaries. Couple of gangs, Maelstrom and Scavs, are supposed to have a shootout. This is really a cover as one of the Scavs is supposed to retrieve an implant in the leader of a small Maelstrom cell, and a buyer from the Animals is going to come for it. The implant in question has the schematic written in it."
"This all seems quite convoluted for a business deal. What happened to the days of sending a simple correspondence?"
The nervous man spoke up, "it's convoluted because of how important it is. From what we've learned, we being Eliza, her contact in Night Corp, and an intern at Arasaka who thinks he's getting promoted, this isn't just a new cyberdeck, or normal implant. We've seen indications of... mind control tech... being worked on at Night Corp. Raven, in the last few years seems to be developing tech focused on efficiently distributing adaptive code. It may be something for mass mind control, but other... events... with other gangs, along with the more recent theft of the Relic, which may or may not be connected, and we think there might be something bigger going on."
Daniels gave the man a hard look for a tense moment before bursting out laughing.
"Hoo, boy. Seems like a whole lotta high-level stuff that'll be a bit beyond this ol' cowpoke to comprehend. I suppose I'll just go finish this little gang battle you mentioned and grab the big guy for you. We got addresses?"
The Prince rolled her eyes at Daniels' exaggerated drawl
"Yes we have addresses. Remember, Maelstrom leader needs to be knocked out. We don't know if his implants will lock after he dies, nor do we know exactly which implant we're looking for, so you're going to have to be careful. When you're done, you'll have to hurry over to a ripper. He isn't one of ours, so don't run your mouth. He'll be paid and instructed in advance."
"I take it you wanna make sure this doesn't come back to us? You trust this guy?"
"Absolutely, on both counts. Besides, I'm certain you'll be fine with our choice. He's worked on the one who took down..." here, she let out a disgusted sigh "Adam Smasher."
"Hol' on, in bringin' this punk to Vic?!"
"Of course. He has no gang or corporate affiliation, and he's one of the only ones with the space and seclusion to do this work quietly. Any objections?"
"Only one. Don't make me use the storefront entrance. That 'Misty' girl... I'm pretty sure she knows more than she let's on, and on the side of the Masquerade... well let's just say I get the feelin' she's dancing, but I don't know with who, if you catch my drift."
"That's fine. You have your orders, and that card on the table has the time and location. No witnesses. I'll let Mr. Vektor know to expect you. Whatever you do, do NOT call anyone unless something has occurred, and even then, only in emergency. We don't know who's watching, and you know as well as I do the Nosferatu gossip, so work with the expectation that you'll have to clean up after yourself. Are we clear?"
Daniels tipped his hat and walked out, purposfully dropping a dusty, plastic rose from his coat onto the carpet. He smiled, wishing he could see her clench her jaws at the sight of such a dirty, cheap, tacky emblem of her clan. It's the little rebellions, he felt, that were the most fun, and you don't need to be a Brujah to enjoy a little rebellion.
















