Summary:A cyborg, an electric bike, and a cold merc hit the streets. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
  |
Walking out into the parking lot with her pistols cased up, Posse turns her head briefly into a passing winter's wind and scans the street around them before heading to the motorcycle parking - front-row of course. Hugging just slightly towards the building beside them and letting her legs run mostly on auto-pilot, the veteran's constant scanning is a subtle but perceptible thing. She passes it off for checking the weather.
"Nice breeze out here; not too heavy. Good huntin weather," she cracks, glancing back towards the black-and-white woman in tow behind her. Up ahead, Posse seems to be angling towards an equally black-and-white motorcycle with a distinctive body. Minimalist and off-road, its sleek body lacks the fuel and exhaust elements of a traditional gas engine and the large, textured tires standing beneath a thick suspension look more at home on a dirt track than city streets. There's no back rest of any sort but the seat stretches far enough that it can probably sit two - maybe.
*
"Got a target in mind?" the albino casually asks while keeping herself just about buried beneath so many layers of thick clothing. It's like she's never experienced temps below eighty degrees or something. Maybe she just finished a tour in the sandbox? She hasn't gone into any detail. For that matter, she's been pretty vague about a lot of things so far. Though where her thoughts are kept more to herself Neena's attention is still plenty focused. With Posse taking point Dom can keep an eye on her and take note of everything that she does.
She's clearly following a hunter. With any luck this won't turn into an evening slugfest.
The bike is given an appreciative looking over, she can already assume that it belongs to Posse because who else would be running around on a motorcycle in the middle of December? "Interesting choice. Electric?" Near-silent running and instant torque, those elements sure lend themselves well to field operations.
*
"Just like the hand," the tawny shoot affirms as she slings her backpack around one shoulder and opens the enormous round bag strapped to it that could only be a helmet. "I like the rumble and sound of classic gas, but /damn/ is the torque worth it." Sliding the helmet on, Posse flips the visor up before crouching down to open what passes for her trunk and pull out a second one, offering it to Domino with an entertained grin.
"Will I need to turn the heat up at home? You look like you're freezing."
*
"Way to rock a theme, I suppose. You can share the same charging cable," Dom suggests with a smirk. Taking the offered helmet, she adds "I'm a fan of the traditional as well. Haven't had a chance to play with one of these yet. Let's see what she can do."
Is Posse's question friendly ribbing or an honest inquiry? Dom's not too sure, though neither would surprise her. "Guess that depends on where you've got it set. I'm getting the impression that you keep it cold due to all of the overclocked hardware."
That one's definitely a rib.
"Don't mind the snowbird sitting behind you. She'll live."
*
Posse's not about to take that laying down. Her emerald eyes narrow slyly as she reaches for the neck of her jacket and opens it. "Well heck if it's like that for ya' I /will/ lend you my jacket, princess…"
Metal. The only word for the sight at first is metal, as the cyborg casually shrugs off her jacket and holds it out for Neena to layer as she pleases with her own puffy insulation. From her neck to her waist, excepting the right hand already seen, Posse's entire body is a sea of synthetic muscles woven through a steel frame, with steely nodes and protrusions at major joints reinforcing its structure and offering what might be attachment points. Her prosthetic left hand continues unbroken up a metal forearm, metal upper arm, and into a metal shoulder that joins the rest of her body. By its neatly symmetrical design, it's unclear which parts of the woman beyond her hand are artificial or merely covered. The cyborg's torso is a walking anatomy chart that nevertheless rises, flows, and falls with the subtler signs of nature; breathing is visible though not a heartbeat, and the infinitesimal, high-pitched squeals of chattering circuitry support every little movement.
"Here," Posse offers simply with a knowing and somewhat playful attentiveness to Neena's steely eyes.
*
It's a weird thing, that power of good fortune. Not many people could handle the sight of a full on cyborg. Fewer still without having some difficulty or needing time to adjust. Neena takes the offered jacket without a sound of appreciation. That part is saved for what the jacket had formerly been hiding!
It starts with a low whistle. The cold weather is forgotten about -just- for a moment while those steely eyes, pale blue when they aren't doing that weird reflective glint, eye up the other woman.
"Well -damn,- girl. You've been holding out on me! Let's get a look at this, then."
Already she's starting to walk a circle around Posse because there's a LOT of unusual details to notice. The odds of coming across a cyborg are only about one in eight -billion- and leave it to someone like the albino with a serious affinity for firearms and mechanical devices to bump into that one.
"I'm gonna have to find you a really lovely fridge magnet later. Or some Flitz. Kudos to your sponsors for all of the symmetry, it's a lost art."
*
Posse's brow does lift in muted surprise at the reaction she gets. She's seen shocked, she's seen impressed, but she's rarely gotten quite the mix Neena offers as the albino begins circling her unbidden. Finding herself under study, the cyborg has the kindness to stand still and give her time to look. The sculpted contours of metal plates and glossy fibers exaggerate her physique in a flattering way - dropping into deep wells along a golden-colored spine and fanning out for the many muscles around it, hugging her waist but overlaying whatever she is beneath with a healthy athleticism. The veteran's posture, naturally, is a flawless S-curve that looks effortless - and promptly is for her equipment. Not sized to any excessive scales, her design appears to favor human-analog or nimbleness in its construction.
Posse glances back and her one green eye glints around the corner as she spots Neena again. "I'm not the only one holding out, Stay-Puffed. Come on; sooner we get on the road, the sooner we can compare specs," she adds before advancing to her motorcycle. Still looking back to the albino marksman, the cyborg grips the handlebars and straddles it with a wink.
*
Oh good. Domino can still surprise people. It's the little things in life! Despite the appreciation which she has expressed it's pretty clear that she doesn't know anything about such tech or how it all interacts. And yet, this lack of understanding fails to affect how freaking impressive it all is. She didn't know that work of this degree existed at all! It seems ..a little suspect that Posse would be allowed to roam the streets as she pleases with the amount of resources which have gone into her, and that's an area which the albino -does- happen to have plenty of experience with.
Dom may not show it but her suspicion is on the rise. She may have to figure out where Posse's upgrades came from later… Not that she's looking to swap out any factory original parts for newer models, mind. But given her line of work it never hurts to have options on the table.
At Posse's comment about 'comparing specs' Neena grins that subtly fangy grin and climbs onto the back of the bike, which..sort of works. It's good that neither of them are large people. "Don't hate me because I have more layers than you, Robocop."
*
The arched nature of the seat's rear might be uncomfortable at first but leaning forward as the bike's low handles encourage makes for a more natural position. Giving the kickstand a flick with her heel, Posse twists the throttle and the motorcycle soundlessly rolls to life, giving only a minimalist read-out of information on its shrouded central display. Moving slowly through the parking lot, she might be giving Domino a chance to find her balance first.
"I'm sure there's plenty of woman in there anyway. Counting the jacket I bet I've got at least as many layers as you," the cyborg challenges over the helmet's paired radios as she rolls to the entrance and eyes approaching traffic. There's an open space before an on-coming Toyota Corolla, but not much room to get up to speed. Judging by the line disgorged behind it by the traffic lig—
"Loser goes topless tonight?" Posse wagers as the bike /leaps/ forward and darts onto the road, reaching road speed in the span of a couple blinks.
*