6th March 2071
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As far as desperate ideas go, this one wasn’t too bad.
Since the last of us with something you could call a home was a certain sewer rat, we crashed at a chop shop where Zach, that twitchy guy dragging in Wily last night, wanted to turn in a favor or something so we had more engines than my dirtbike.
All of our funds were pretty drained, but we’re also sitting on a shitload of drugs and gear. You don’t need that stuff if you’re about to turned into Soylent Pimp, so there were hardly any objections from the former owners.
Putting some icing on that cake, the girls suggested that we could hit the Mad Woman tonight. We could celebrate that we made it one more day without being geeked and grab some crystalline cash while we’re at it.
New shit creeping through the streets offering a warm, soothing blanket of escapism to everyone whose life sucked.
Heard of that stuff. Didn’t seem to have any drawbacks or crash syndromes and wouldn’t wreck body and mind like other drugs. And since it was some herbal new products, judicatory gears were grinding too slow to stop it from getting people on our streets hooked.
Tonight, the club would even dish out some Tempo for free, so we could stuff our pockets, wait a for a bit and cut our deal of this new wave rolling towards Seattle.
I hate to say that, but: Things don’t seem too bad.
[no time stamp]
Gimme a sec.
Feels like I drank a liquid nitrogen slushy spiced with angry fire ants…
Spirits…has been a while since I healed something like that.
Zach got a ride and his grease monkey chummer Roadblock will fix it for us.
When I asked Wily what the hell happened to that kid after they brought in this growling monstrosity of a Ford Americar she kept on raving about stuff you better don’t spell out loud these days.
I’ll just say that: his injuries are of the brand only few kinds of people suffer. Mages (and their victims), beetlejunkies, hackers and…well you don’t spell that out loud these days.
Whatever he was, he’s there and he needed my help, so I patched him up and gave myself a reminder why I hate to heal internal bleeding.
Against any common sense, he went out for two more jobs for Roadblock, before it’s off into the night for us.