#biochipped

          ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ hints of rosemary and mint fill the cab of a armored black sedan parked in a nondescript little corner of The Glen; a sleek mobile office to conduct a little business off-desk. This combination of enhanced essential oils should sniff one’s way into neurorelaxation and stimulate mental clarity — according to her life coach, that is. Who knows? The aroma is just a feature she likes to switch on.

          Time ticks, a new message from HR with the forthcoming meeting’s agenda is checked, an economic news report detailing a series of tariffs passed by ECC passes her ears; much can keep her occupied in the preceding minutes. Still, hopefully this fixer delivers on a merc who respects a client’s time. Unlikely as that is.

           A security detail stands sentry outside. Arasaka’s red logo is plastered on his black vest. Her personal, George -- UK’s finest in Arasaka Security, he might boast of himself. For her, trustworthy ( and totting along the other three would make for a packed ride ). It is his greeting that marks the arrival; back door opening with request to take a seat next to Miss Landry in the back.

          Despite seat’s incline, posture stays straight as a pin; hands remain folded on the edge of her knees. The expression on her face is placid, though a hint of a smile ghosts along painted lips. No judgment comes of her guest’s flashy appearance against her own all-black ensemble; Night City is indeed colorful.

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 : @biochipped​ // VAL

❛ take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while. ❜

       EL COYOTE COJO is buzzing as usual – she feels strangely at home here, strangely at peace, her formal blazer and slacks replaced by a pair of ripped jeans and a silk blouse. Still STANDING OUT, but the locals know her. Most of them V knows too. Not the girl at one of the tables, though. There’s a particular kind of elegance in the way she moves, dignified and self-assured, like she owns the place – THE CITY. Like she’s entering a board meeting, a smile on her lips and a data tablet in her EXQUISITELY MANICURED hands. 

        ❝ Whatever you want, you don’t look like you’ve got the eddies for it. ❞ He voice is calm, POINT-BLANK, emotionless. Valerie cuts it short, down to biz, but she does sit down. Normally, she’d take a shot of tequila or a beer. Not today. She’s WATCHFUL.  Undaunted, however, for ironically enough she knows every inch of this place despite not really belonging here. Most locals tend to DESPISE corporations and their employees – mostly for their own lost chances, incomplete educations, shady business that isn’t paid half as well and millions of other things. The woman in front of her doesn’t look very FRIENDLY either – an eyebrow is raised as V examines her closely. Hostile AND lacking any sense of style. She seems to be in a for a real treat tonight. 

  “...H-hey! Are you busy right now? I need someone to pretend they know me, fast.”

@biochipped​ said: “ i think i’ve seen you somewhere before . ”

@biochipped​ responded: ‘time is a bastard.’ | PLAYLIST SENTENCE STARTERS (P3) [accepting]

          IF not for the built-in synth white sofas lining the walls of the sunken living space, the empty penthouse suite in Charter Hill might echo their voices. Open windows line walls that stretch all the way to the ceilings, letting in the sunlight that breaks through the city’s top from gloomy skies above. Lease is on the tail end, her move to a mansion in North Oak complete. She considers keeping the place — a quiet, accessible space to do covert business in the city. Though perhaps something smaller will serve better. Her so-far trusted merc stands nearby, there to finalize a transaction. Exchange the eddies and go. Unlikely there for chit chat — a waste of time.

         ❛ That it is. ❜ Backs of long fingers rise and float an increment under her chin. The smooth clear lacquer of freshly manicured nails lazily brushes against her neck before a fist forms to falsely rest her head upon. An arm across her front, a prop for her elbow. A thinker’s pose as if memories are forthcoming — regardless of whether or not her company wants to hear them.

         ❛ When I was younger, I always thought I would eventually have more time — after the next transfer, the next promotion. ❜ Wistful she might sound if not for some manner of nonchalance in her stance. ❛ I could focus less on getting to the top and more on the job itself. ❜ The need to scheme against your coworkers and appease the bosses replaced by subordinates awaiting your missteps. Deceptively easier, less taxing.

         ❛ Now I’m older and I realize it was just an illusion to keep me going. There’s never enough time in the day to accomplish everything expected of you. More responsibilities, more to do. ❜ Still, she manages just fine ( even if the occasional boosting drug gets her through ). ❛ But I digress. ❜

something in her tone sets him on edge and kerry could scream because of it. maybe because it feels like judgement, or because the insult feels meant heartfelt. v has been doing that on-and-off lately, he’s noticed - working her way beneath his skin, digging in one of her stilettos, and striding away once it’s drawn blood. he doesn’t know why. he isn’t going to ask, either.

maybe she doesn’t notice it, but he does. he doesn’t consider that might not be her intention. 

              So this is what a GOOD ENDING felt like? So many open end’s and question’s left unanswered on what lied ahead. It was an EMPTY slate. Something that Johnny had HUNGERED for, yet now that it rest in his hands he felt ... CALM. Old flames that had once ROARED now sat in dimly glowing ash. Ready to reignite if needed, but for the most sat dormant. 

His body and mind was now his OWN once again, with no connections or CHAINS that trapped him to another. But with that came relearning his own body. After all, it had been YEARS since limbs moved. The muscles STIFF as they stretched and adjusted. It felt like RELAPSING back into an old habit. That familiar RUSH that came with something KNOWN. 

v is almost uncompromising in her stubbornness when she hears something she doesn’t like sometimes. kerry supposes he can’t blame her - he can be the same way after all, and he can almost understand where she’s coming from.

almost. not quite.

he’s not quite receptive, either. he’ll blame it on his bad mood.

“look, v - i don’t need you goin’ on with some pep talk. i know who and what i am. there’s no… shit, there’s no use in sayin’ otherwise.” kerry says as he rubs at his temples, elbows set on the edge of the table. he hadn’t expected to get into this with her, let alone be ambushed with her thoughts on how he feels about himself. the rockerboy wants to be offended, defensive, but he can’t find it in him. maybe he could see how it might upset her. mostly, he doesn’t want this to go any further.