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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Rules-based RPGs --> Cyberpunk --> Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Parent thread: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
GM for this game: Bromern Sal
Players for this game: TannTalas, Keeper of Dragons, Nomad D2, Giddy, Aletheia, Espatier
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    Messages in Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
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Giddy
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133 Posts


Dwellings on the human mind...

"This isn't my area - either going in straight up or contacting the cult.  I'm more than willing to let Charlie ply his trade.  We have to go in at some point - and soon - that isn't negotiable.  But if he can make that move easier I am all for it.  But we are not rich in time."  He looked up and down the street.  "Do we really want to keep standing here across from the door?  We don't exactly fit in this neighborhood.  Whether its the cult or the maid who spots us, that doesn't seem good.  Where do we sit while Charlie works his magic?  I wouldn't mind getting out of this rain, but I really want to get out of sight.  Makes me nervous."

Bloodbank felt that same sense of nervousness. It was a creeping feeling that itched at the small of his back. Furtively, he glanced up and down the street, eyeing the smattering of homeless on the street. He felt as though each and every one of them was eyeing the group of Edgerunners, appraising the gathering as one might a particularly juicy cut of steak at the butchers. Suppressing a small shudder, and unconsciously resting his hand on his sidearm. As he idly stroked the hard metal of the weapon, Bloodbank nodded. 

"I'm with Fixer on this. Let's pull down the street here a little way or somethin'.  I don't really care where just as long as we're not all loitering out in front of this building as though we mean to raid it." Bloodbank paused for a second there, considering the fact that that just might be what they ended up doing. He hoped not. 

Instead, a nasty little voice whispered inside his head, you're sending in some homeless bum to do it for you. 

With a slight twitch to his lips, Bloodbank disregarded that thought out of hand. It was just some nameless bum whose only real worth to this world would be the assistance he gave the group tonight. Honestly, if the bum ended up dead, it'd probably be a blessing for him, no longer having to spend his days wallowing in the filth and rot of this Midcity slum. 

Suddenly, with a crashing jolt, Bloodbank realized what he was thinking. What was he thinking!? His pistol suddenly seemed to burn in where he rested his hand, and without really thinking of how he looked, he snatched his hand away to rub the palm. He'd been on this job for mere days and already he was sliding back into habits that he'd spent months and months trying to purge from his psyche. Months of rejecting job offers, of alienating friends and colleagues, of tarnishing the slight reputation that he'd built in his trade while he lived in near destitution. All to try to be a more upright individual, and look at how well he was accomplishing that!

He grimaced, thinking back to his actions the past couple of days. Sure, he'd protested whenever the group had done something that had seemed even slightly morally gray, but that all seemed so hollow. So fake and forced. So illegitimate. Bloodbank felt a fraud, lying to the others and himself in an attempt to feel righteous and good. 

This isn't really who I am, Bloodbank thought morosely. I can pretend to be otherwise, but in the end, I'm just as I've always been: self-absorbed and quick to the gun. I can't change that. I can't change me. 

"Who am I fooling," Bloodbank mumbled softly, the quiet words lost against the inside of his Battlemask. 



Posted on 2019-03-14 at 18:04:29.

   
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