CY_BORG: VIP Abduction
Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2025 12:24 am
It's just another morning in CY.
Today, poison dust-winds from G0 are blowing across the city, spreading all kinds of radioactive toxins and nano-parasites in their wake.
In The Arcs district — an island in the middle of Lake Gravel between North and South Central — a stolen taxi is illegally parked in a backstreet behind a food court.
Inside the vehicle, four low-life punks sit eating their breakfast: a mixture of maker-made street food and off-brand powder beer. It cost them their last five creds. Now they're broke. But at least their bellies are full.
For the moment, at least.
Their self-appointed leader — and owner of the taxi — is former gang-goon, Zola. Sitting next to him in the passenger seat is Doze, a 'gearhead', a machine-wizard, with an experimental laser-cannon-fitted, crab-legged crawler-drone packed in the boot. In the rear seats are a couple of thugs called Sen and Volley, mostly along for the ride.
As they noisily guzzle the remainder of their grub to the beats of the 24/7 'oceanwave' channel that Zola insists they listen to on the car's Net radio — windows closed to avoid exposure to the G0-dust — they're suddenly hit with with a fresh ad-bomb in their RCDs. This one's from Tulles & deVerte: a South Central based corporation specialising in lifestyle products, restaurants, fashion, entertainment and drugs. The advert is for a new variant of their wonder-drug Vurt: experience up to six hours of powerful shared hallucinations! Only 350¤ per dose!
The advert is broadcast via the Net to every RCD in the city simultaneously, including the rider of a cyberbike who happens to be racing down the street at extraordinary high speed at that moment. Distracted by the ad, the rider swerves and wipes out, crashing into a lamppost with a terrible noise and a cloud of neon smoke. The rider goes flying through the air like a rag-doll, bouncing several times off the road, before landing in a broken heap just yards from Zola's taxi.
The bike itself goes skidding across the street, titanium shell grinding against the the asphalt in a shower of sparks. Then it hits the wall of a building and comes to a sudden stop. The Vurt advert finishes and vanishes from each RCD as quickly as it came.
Today, poison dust-winds from G0 are blowing across the city, spreading all kinds of radioactive toxins and nano-parasites in their wake.
In The Arcs district — an island in the middle of Lake Gravel between North and South Central — a stolen taxi is illegally parked in a backstreet behind a food court.
Inside the vehicle, four low-life punks sit eating their breakfast: a mixture of maker-made street food and off-brand powder beer. It cost them their last five creds. Now they're broke. But at least their bellies are full.
For the moment, at least.
Their self-appointed leader — and owner of the taxi — is former gang-goon, Zola. Sitting next to him in the passenger seat is Doze, a 'gearhead', a machine-wizard, with an experimental laser-cannon-fitted, crab-legged crawler-drone packed in the boot. In the rear seats are a couple of thugs called Sen and Volley, mostly along for the ride.
As they noisily guzzle the remainder of their grub to the beats of the 24/7 'oceanwave' channel that Zola insists they listen to on the car's Net radio — windows closed to avoid exposure to the G0-dust — they're suddenly hit with with a fresh ad-bomb in their RCDs. This one's from Tulles & deVerte: a South Central based corporation specialising in lifestyle products, restaurants, fashion, entertainment and drugs. The advert is for a new variant of their wonder-drug Vurt: experience up to six hours of powerful shared hallucinations! Only 350¤ per dose!
The advert is broadcast via the Net to every RCD in the city simultaneously, including the rider of a cyberbike who happens to be racing down the street at extraordinary high speed at that moment. Distracted by the ad, the rider swerves and wipes out, crashing into a lamppost with a terrible noise and a cloud of neon smoke. The rider goes flying through the air like a rag-doll, bouncing several times off the road, before landing in a broken heap just yards from Zola's taxi.
The bike itself goes skidding across the street, titanium shell grinding against the the asphalt in a shower of sparks. Then it hits the wall of a building and comes to a sudden stop. The Vurt advert finishes and vanishes from each RCD as quickly as it came.