(Setting) Like a Glitch in the system, it takes one to know one. Somewhere on Glitch City slums, but don't take my word on it.
| "Gaah...! Arf...! Eh..."
>I look around my surroundings, battered, bruised and exhausted from running. But seems like they lost my trail for the time being... good.
"Guhr...! Ah..."
>I lay down against the wall for a moment, i need to rest whenever i can if i wanna keep my distance effectively... those bastards fucks! They'll pay with their bones when i get back into shape!
"*wheezes*, *wheezes*"
>God dammit though... this hurts, my pain inhibtors weren't... reinforced today.
| Heh, tired kid? Looks like you w-won’t be needing that chrome then… the wheazing junkie shakily stands from a pile a blankets you hadn’t noticed in the gloom. A meat cleaver gleams in his hand as he ambles towards you, shaking from kamotrine withdrawl
| >Tries standing up as steadly as i can, a hand agains't the wall for support.
"I wouldn't push your luck if i were you... man. It ain't worth a world of hurt."
>Standing on my own two feet, legs finding their balance, i enter my go to boxing stance. Hoping that at least my form could scare off my apperant atacker, which fucking hell... it wasn't looking likely...
| >Suddenly, a bullet shot without target pierces the dark and shatters the moment. A warning shot.
>Being all too familiar with that sound, both fighters try to flee, yet, a concerned voice coming from a man in his early-thirties something reaches out to the battered person before their muscles began to respond properly.
- Are you okay, buddy?
| >The man, now more visible to the flashy, almost-not-working lights of the slums scattered across the area, wore a stereotypical private detective clothing, more fitting of a previous era, a big latte-coloured coat and a simple black hat.
>Most people would think he is in cosplay attire, yet that somehow has worked in his favour.
>The man quickly glanced at the person with bruises and marks of lasting a tough fight.
| >I was very eager to let my guard down for once... my body was too overworked up until this point, i really just needed a break. But rule on the street is that you NEVER under ANY circustance fool around when there's someone strange to you carrying iron in your presence. That's just asking to get flatlined in one blink.
"I'm not your buddy, pal. And i've been worse... whaddya want from me? I'm assuming ya ain't with the lot of bastards hunting me down, aren'tcha? So who are ya?"
| The junkie scrambles out of there, you hear Distant splashes as he stumbles back into the thickness of the urban jungle
| >The detective understood that the person he was facing was being persecuted, hunted down, or even had a price for their head, probably. He went through some of that experience himself. That tends to happen when you poke around your nose in other people's beehives too much. Like the detective.
"- Hmm. I'm not one of those that's for sure. You can call me Jack. Private detective."
"- Erm.. you looked like you were in a rough spot, but you look like you can handle yourself..."
| >the detective's attitude was a little uncomfortable, like he wasn't very familiar with the local area. He was constantly checking out his surroundings.
"- I'll go straight to the point, and I'll tell you what I'm here for."
"- I'm looking for someone, and looking for info about who killed this man in this picture.
>Jack handed a picture to the still recovering person.
"- Some big shot's son from the Keygen Yakuza gang."
>said Jack.
| "- I don't usually accept commissions like these, but this one had a pretty good sum, so I caved in.
- You seem like you know the streets around here, pal. Perhaps you could know something. But I don't know your name yet."
>Jack hid his gun, and looked back at the stranger's eyes, still out of focus.
| "Rrmh... Ow... figures you were a detective. You sure look like the type, though let me say this- yer looking like you're trying too hard. And... well, least ya ain't a copper. That'd be the last thing i'd need right now."
>I could feel the pain inhibtors finally kicking in. All the damage i took musta've been easing up, enough for my outdated inhibtor do it's thing at least.
| >I trying to straighten up, working on my posture, although beaten and bruised, my body is conditioned to this kind of abuse. Firm grasp in my right shoulder with my left hand i crack my neck for relief.
"Ugh... yep! That's better..."
>Mr. Detective here don't even know my name, nor who i am it seems. Not sure if i buy that yet, but... how the hell does a guy like him gets lost in the fucking slums of all places? Meh... let's roll with it.
| "Want a name then, eh? I'm Bernado Buckowsky, but if it suits ya, Benny or just Bernard is fine."
>I take a careful look around the corner to the side of me, no signs of those assholes luckly...
"Tch! This place gives me the sheets. Jack right? Cmon, let's move outta here, and keep quiet. You won't like the kind of company i usually bring. This way."
Refresh
| >00:33, Windy
>Feb 5th, Thursday, 207X A.D
>Slums, Shadonn District, Sector 3-F, Glitch City
>In a city that shouldn't exist...
>Crawling out of hole you dug for yourself ain't a easy feat. You can knock 'em down 2, 4, even 6 times and it won't be enough if you can't crush 'em all at once. Ya would need to be like a comet almost...
>Vermim are persistent, hard to get rid off, and worst of all, it rots you from the inside once you forget it was there in the first place.