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Sigil Warden

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About Sigil Warden

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    New Jersey, USA
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    Receiving Clerk

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  1. Slay Together Unity skid to a halt, momentarily frozen as she sized up the drone. As it perked up to examine her, she too slowly straightened out, hands dropping tensed to her sides, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Her heart rate accelerated, unbidden, as the soft hairs at the back of her neck prickled. The looming mass of the alien superstructure bled away into the background, her eyes focusing intently on this unexpected denizen of the depths. Its piercing tone, as brief as it had been, seemed to carry on echoing in the back of her mind, held on until she wasn't even sure if the mental echo was real or not. Breath seemed... difficult. There was no obstruction, and yet she held it in anyway. Motion was dangerous - the standoff had to continue. Mankind's greatest enemy lurked in this woman of the future as it had in the hearts of the earliest hominids. Fear. Fear rules all. Fear of what might happen. Of what could happen. Of what would happen. Unity could feel each individual hair on her head shift in the unseen air currents that swirled past. She acutely felt what seemed like every single clasp and attachment point on her suit, digging into her skin - the way the holster bands cut into her thighs, the tension of practically every high-tech fibre straining across the curve of her chest. The persistent millimeter adjustments in her hip alignment to maintain balance on her heels and keep her gravity centered. None of this was relevant, but she could feel it all the same. Every single damn tendon and muscle in her body, individually tensing and relaxing, the map of them passively known to her now by some device she didn't understand. Her frontal cortex found the time to experimentally run a hundred contractions of a bundle of muscle fibers in her right cheek. Unity smirked a hundred times, and one second had passed. Her fingers twitched again. This time, they closed on polymer grips that felt strangely familiar, and certainty replaced fear in the surety of purpose. These were her daggers... her knives. Her closest friends. She loved them. If the calm of the kill had not settled upon her, her pulse would have quickened even more just to hold them once again. The shapes were different, the materials different - augmented, changed, reforged - but the soul of them remained, and she felt their resonance fill her palms. Blur and Contrast. The drone cracked and sparked, nailed to the impact point on the wall where her kick had launched it. Contrast sat buried to the hilt through the strange amalgam that composed its body, its sensor array drooping to uselessness even as Unity's own diagnostics scrolled past with glowing reports of performance over expected benchmarks. It felt like she had been stabbing paper mache. She thought of how easy it might be to shred through flesh with those same hands, twisting and ripping it like pulled pork. The thought made her breath catch. She even felt the blush on her cheeks burning red as the capillaries dilated. Why? Why would she think that? Two seconds had elapsed. @Spooky Mittens
  2. The Sarcophagus was convenient. Conveniently located for a myriad of purposes: be that as picking ground for valuables, a place to prove one's mettle to a syndicate, or as a seemingly endless maw that swallowed runoff, sewage, and undesireables without a trace. Unity was beginning to suspect that were it not for the absolute mint that her new body had cost, she was solidly in that last category of waste disposal. Terms like 'aptitude testing' and 'operational benchmarks' had been bandied about in the stiff boardroom the day before, where the shapely thief had felt, for once in her life, woefully underdressed. Not one to shy away from indulging in her natural gifts, the severity of those suits, and the growing realization that she owed them a debt that could never be repaid in this life or the next, had made it such that she'd felt each executive's gaze bore into her like a chiseling laser. Each callous look stripped away her defenses until it felt like they could even see right through the minidress they'd laminated onto her for the occasion. A shiver bristled along her arms at the memory, despite the dense weave of the bodysuit gripping her like a glove. Insulated and resistant to a myriad of incidental hazards, her 'handler' had deemed the suit sufficient defense for her first foray, trusting that a laundry list of augmentations and subtle improvements would handle any further dangers. The very idea of the whole operation was a gnawing pit in her stomach; who could have imagined that being cuffed for a relatively petty theft would end in what amounted to slavery? Besides, she didn't feel any more prepared to handle whatever awaited her down in this god-forsaken pit - the speed of her assistant processor only made the time spent here seem to dilate. She could let her mind race through a thousand what-ifs at double the rate. Amazing. Unity grimaced as a particularly viscous drop of what had to be raw sewage fell a mere inch away from her face to splash to the crumbled concrete underfoot. Twenty minutes she'd been carefully descending into this glorified sinkhole, and all she'd found were abandoned hovels and piles of trash mixed with rubble. The first ring or so near the outer edge had been decently populated with homeless vagrants, as it was more or less the only place in Absalom where they'd not immediately be arrested and flogged, or worse. As she'd climbed and slid further in, however, only the scuttling of vermin seemed to indicate life of any kind. That was until she noticed the vague hum resonating the ground. Augmented ears had assumed it to be the background noise of the arcology towering above on all sides, but this was... not that. Machinery, yes, but while Absalom was a garbled mess of interference in the background, the sound from below was ordered and regular. Not quite a pulse, but distinct enough to be the heartbeat of some hibernating giant. She only saw it a moment before she tipped bodily forward, a cavernous, jagged hole that was no longer a crater, but simply a pit. In the eerie silence that pervaded outside of the low hum, Unity could actually hear the components of her ocular implants whirr like a whisper as they automatically adjusted to the near-total darkness. They stared down into the chasm, two pinpricks of red in a sea of black. Infrared showed the bottom a very dim red. Warmth, in a spot where the cold air ought to be collecting. A filter confirmed the convection of the air above, and Unity's exhalation became the loudest sound to meet this depth for some time. Without a word, she pitched forward, and tossed herself unceremoniously into the drop. A tiny HUD on her right retina ticked off a box on a list of tests she was instructed to run. She'd successfully managed to not shatter both legs on impact. The tracker did not need to know that she'd deployed a hardlight 'chute to turn the landing into a twinge in the ankles instead of ramming two polymer risers directly up into her heels. Pathfinding was already offline - one would think that for such a ruthlessly exploited resource the entrance to the Sarcophagus would be better defined. As it was, only the abandoned bulk of excavating machines, long rusted into uselessness, greeted her from the cylindrical gallery she now found herself in. Great bay doors to either direction, front and behind, lay askew and open. Some faint glow of light could be seen filtering from somewhere further along to the northwest. A good a place as any to start looking for something worthwhile. Unity sprinted after it, rubberized soles hardly making a sound on the odd, ceramic-like paneling that constituted a 'floor'. @Spooky Mittens
  3. "You won't find my face in that pile of 'product', hun." It was a quiet reprimand, barely heard over the trap beats, delivered in a tone Unity still wasn't quite used to using. She'd let herself in without knocking, an act that by anyone else would have likely ended in murder. Instead, the shapely thief was facing the dangerously high crime boss with her bravest smile, her eyelashes fluttering at him from the doorway. Pushing the door closed with her heel, she cocked out her hip, and pointedly swirled the rum cocktail in her hand around idly, batting away imaginary dust from her vinyl miniskirt with the other. "I thought... heh. I thought I might um... apologize for laughing at you earlier." Her thighs crossed closely in front of one another, stalking a hip-swaying stroll past the front of his desk, setting the glass down on the corner as she leaned up over it, hiking one leg over the side to show off exactly how much she wasn't wearing. Her fingers, usually supernaturally dextrous, fumbled a bit with her jacket zipper, letting her chest out for some air in the stuffy enclosure. "It... it took me off-guard, you know? But I'll make it up to you, boss-man." She blew him a kiss, and hopped back off the furniture, making her way up to the neon underlit pole that beckoned from the center of the lounge-office. The part of her that still wondered how she had let herself into this mess had been replaced by a much more easygoing Unity, loosened by enough liquor to drop a horse. Carefully, deliberately, she wrapped each hand around the cool aluminum, palm-first, then curling each finger in individually grasped the sturdy metal, testing it despite knowing it could easily support her weight. There was no part two of her show to be had, though. Instead, after a few experimental, brief twirls about the pole, she simply widened her stance as she faced away, and bent over at the waist as her grip ran palm-open down the pole, presenting herself in a way that made no mystery of its intention. Her sultry, painted gaze caught Ryker's eye just over the curve of her shoulder, the red stare peeking out from among the strands of crisp white. "I've needs that have gone unfilled... have I come to the right place to ask for... help?" @Better Than Gore
  4. People unused to not getting their way could be some of the most explosive and dangerous - combined with the prestige and power of Ryker's position, this made him genuinely terrifying. Unity had read it in his expression, the way his shoulders and stiffened and his fists balled, in the strangulated tone of the man's voice. A barely restrained anger, that could as easily have lashed out at her as any other of the crime boss' employees. In one moment she felt both relieved that he had left abruptly but simultaneously dreaded having to confront him about it later. Doubtlessly his infatuation with her could be used against him, and she cursed the fact that she'd not had the presence of mind to immediately capitalize it. It had taken her so off-guard she'd not been able to fake flattery. As much as she tried to avoid leveraging her looks beyond a mere selfish indulgence in passing stares, she'd had to weasel her way out of danger by giving in to carnal demands on more than one ignoble occasion. And yet, those instances did not compare to her current predicament - where sex had been a means to defuse a situation or to escape it, now she was likely going to have to use it to place herself even further into the den of lions. A soft sigh ruffled the dangling tip of her single black bang that always hung in her eye, disturbing the almost statuesque stillness with which she reclined on the performing couch. Resigning herself to the fact that bailing on the mission was at least as bad as getting closer to the mark, she cut the recording clip from her iris cameras, transferring the data to her unfolding phone that she had tugged from the tiny pocket on her skirt. A minute or two of emotionless tiptapping of her fingers on the holopad left no doubt in the investigative body's decision. She was to make use of the man's vulnerability. Unity didn't even try to argue it - she knew better than to put her on more of a shitlist. She ought to have been appalled - essentially forced into whoring herself out for her own freedom. Second-degree rape via blackmail. The alternative was incarceration for life... or another decade on the run across the planes of existence, never able to just settle down. Even with the 'upgrades', she wasn't going to stay young forever. It was yet another layer of insurance, on top of the debt owed for her cybernetics. The real surprise had been that they'd not stripped the thief of her extraordinary powers... though it had been threatened once already. Lost in thought about her predicament, it was only when another girl sidled into the room awkwardly with a john that Unity stirred out of her mind fog, absently grabbing her cash from the table and tucking it in her purse. She was going to need alcohol for this. A LOT of fucking alcohol. ~ It took nearly an hour of shower time to get that damn glow paint off herself. Thank the gods for industrial water heaters - hot showers were a luxury that despite her rapid adoption of the post-modern, futurist world, Unity still found absurdly indulgent. More than once she'd had to consciously stop herself heading out the door to go to a non-existent bathing spot in a river. Another half-hour to fix her hair product and makeup that had run a bit in the billowing steam, and she was ready to go. Knowing exactly what she had in mind as her end goal tonight, she'd ditched the pasties under the mesh shirt, instead hiding herself only in the tight embrace of her over-cropped leather jacket. Undergarments likewise had been eschewed, leaving her vinyl pleated skirt as the only barrier between her and the world. Slightly torn stockings clung to her thighs as her refreshed self mingled back into the crowd of the club. Almost immediately, former patrons began to congregate around her, but her beeline for the bar left them staggered behind Unity, letting them filter in one at a time. Not one failed to offer to buy her a drink or two to slake her declared thirst - in return, she offered them some polite conversation and heart-stopping bats of her eyelashes. She'd already had more than any girl of her size had a right to imbibe without becoming stupid drunk, a result that certainly every single one of her admirers were waiting eagerly for. They knew she had nothing on under that skirt. She knew that they knew, and crossed and re-crossed her thighs often for their benefit. But those cerebral and endocrine enhancements were good at their job, and she was still only just getting a bit giggly. Realizing disappointedly after almost two hours that the money sink was not producing favors beyond teasing, the less wealthy finally departed, leaving her with a brief bit of solitude. The barkeep looked at the thief with plainly obvious jealousy, if a bit sympathetic. "The boss really likes you, Unity." Unity looked over the rim of her fourth mixed rum, and snorted into the glass. "I know. He told me." The barkeeper looked positively excited. "That's really good you know, he almost never pays that much attention to his girls.... did he... you know... have you private sesh with him?" A blank stare was followed by a wan smile. "He asked for one, yeah." Incredulously, it was the keeper's turn to stare. "You say that like you said 'no'...?" "Yeah, I blew him off." "Girl, are you stupid? Do you know who you just turned down?!" "... I get it, he's the boss, I'm supposed to keep him happy, et cetera." "Not just keep him happy, Unity, his expectations of you must be super high, you just failed a basic test." "I... don't think so. He sounded more like a flustered schoolboy than head honcho in there." "Shh! Shut up! Just... agh, I don't want to see you disappear two nights after your debut. You'd better go in there and apologize to him." Unity gestured vaguely to the row of empty glasses in front of her. "Heh. Don't worry... I plan to." @Better Than Gore
  5. An intermission of what passed for silence in the small lounge intervened, the rogue cautiously straightening to standing in the dark. She couldn't find words to reply to the man's outrageous confession - it brought absolutely no balm to the mortal terror that had been gripping her a moment prior, and it washed over her so quickly she was still trying to process just what exactly had just happened. So instead she feigned a fumbling in the darkness to reach the fader switch on the nearby wall, even though she could see it perfectly well, and gradually restored the recessed lighting to the small room, a look of incredulity still frozen on her face. Then, as if a ton of bricks weighed on her shoulders toppled and slid off all at once, her neck slumped in relief, and laughter chimed from her chest. Her hand rose questioningly to her cheek, as she looked up at him, still laughing with an expression that read mostly as "Are you serious?!". Trying to stifle it with her fist did nothing - the chuckling continued to rise unbidden at the absurdity of it all. The famed crime boss Ryker Albrecht confessing his infatuation with her like some breathless schoolboy at a dance. She had to take a seat - it was all she could do to keep the tone from rolling into outright mockery as she gripped the leather armrest and let the giggling fits pass. Only when she had taken a deep breath did she look back up at him, her mouth still twisted into a grin she couldn't suppress, constantly threatening to break back into hiccuping laughter. "O-okay, Mister Albrecht. Ryker. I guess that puts us first name ba... basis. Ahem." The thief had to stop to prevent herself from giggling again. "It's really uh... sweet of you to say that, but you really scared the hell out of me. I don't know how I feel about my boss... crushing on me." Her smile drooped a bit, the coping mechanism of mirth finally starting to slip away, as she realized that she couldn't simply let him down easy and take her leave like he had suggested. Her mission required her to stay, and record episodes just like the one that was currently transpiring. While there was nothing overtly criminal about this particular action, it did paint the man as extremely brash... and also, judging from his face, quite high. This could be manipulated... as could, she realized, his fancy of her. That part made her heart sink a little. Increased favor was a double-edged sword that brought more confidence, but also more scrutiny. She'd almost outed herself just now with her acrobatics - how might she slip up later if he was always watching her? So naturally, she said something entirely the opposite of her feelings. "Maybe I'm in the wrong position then if you're going to steal me away from your customers, Mi - Ryker. I don't want to be the employee that makes you drive away the people paying the rent. I'm not petty, I will stay - I just want to feel safe, and right now..." She fixed him with a strangely distant and yet vulnerable look with her smoky eyes. "...I don't feel safe at all." @Better Than Gore
  6. The near-absolute dark and pounding bass line made the sudden intrusion absolutely and terrifyingly surprising. The resulting reactions were equally violent, but couldn't have differed more between client and girl. A high-pitched scream rent the air, peaking over the music for a brief moment as Unity vaulted off the customer reflexively, her powerful legs throwing her into a tumbling cartwheel that landed her in a poised crouch in the corner. Her lenses immediately auto-corrected for the contrast in lighting pouring in from the doorway, recognizing the silhouette of Ryker instantly... and also the growing dark spot seeping across the customer's pants as his shriek died in his throat. Adrenaline surged in her veins, and her muscles tensed, not knowing if the drugged up bastard was here to visit violence on her... but certain that her impulsive movement was... not typical of any kind of exotic dancer, no matter how flexible or gymnastic they might be. If the jig was up this goddamn quickly, there would be blood, and lots of it. Black polished nails twitched silently in the air, ready to fight the moment the fucker so much as flinched in her direction. She cursed herself now for having smeared herself in glow-in-the-dark paint... he'd have no issue seeing exactly where she was - all he had to due was follow the bobbing trails of her pasties. Instead, the boss, whom to the customer must still have looked just like the spectre of death looming in from the bright light of the hallway, directed his ire entirely at the poor fucker frozen on the couch. Stammering and swearing, the guy realized Ryker wasn't kidding, and at this point was more than willing to hand over the rest of his cash just to be allowed to leave. A vibrant array of colorful epithets streamed from his mouth the whole way out, leaving Unity still crouched and tensed in the corner by the end of the couch. Her characteristically soft voice could barely strain over the unemotional track that continued to fill the room. "What the hell?!" @Better Than Gore
  7. At first, the slender thief was barely cognizant of the voices around her - a thick auditory fog seemed to separate her from the thronging adoration surrounding her. Still flushed with the thrill of her performance, she straightened, 'collapsing' away her batons so that she could sweep her tips together quickly with the sole of her platforms. Halfway through this process, she remembered she wasn't wearing pants anymore, and stiffened, her cheeks reddening even more as she realized she'd been bending over multiple times to pull the money together. Covering herself with her discarded jacket, she spared the sizeable pile a sad glance - it was a shame it would be added to a mutual pool. Although she barely recognized some of the denominations present, it was a hefty amount. What finally brought her back into the present was a particularly brash young fellow stuffing a fistfull of bills directly down the front of her mesh shirt, giving her a third boob comprised entirely of... money. Unity looked down at the offering between her breasts with a sort of puzzled bemusement, then up at the sweaty dude, and realized the guy had about 5 guys getting ready to dogpile him if she took his offer. Pre-empting a massive brawl over something she'd not even been paying attention to, she hopped down off the stage gracefully, interposing her pretty self between the posse and the client, giving a brief wink. "Sorry lads, I'm taking his offer. I'll be around later for more, don't worry your handsome heads." She gave the youth that had stretched her mesh shirt a swat on the rear, taking care to keep her legs closed as much as possible as she navigated the club behind him. "Find a booth you like, love, I'm going to go pull on my spare skirt real quick." She let him wander off towards the private studios, before flitting off to retrieve her bag from behind the DJ's setup. Unity gave him a shy, apologetic smile as she shimmied quickly into the tiny garment that barely restored her modesty, and shrugged. "Normally I'd find a room but I figure it goes on and off easily enough, heh. Thank you for nailing the timings, I... actually had fun up there. I think. I think that's the sensation I am feeling." She giggled, and was off again, chasing down this generous tipster. The thief couldn't back down now, maintaining her cover would require her to demonstrate willingness to work without being told. Not to mention... her heart was still beating out of her chest with the audacity of what she had just done a few minutes ago, and she wasn't entirely sure she could say she hadn't genuinely liked it. Unity found the man already settled in to a partitioned lounge, his fist down the front of his trousers. She suppressed the urge to laugh - did he even need her there if that's how revved up the dude was? Besides, it wasn't like she was going to help him with that - if anything, quite the opposite. Exotic dancers were purveyors of flustering, not satisfaction. Keeping her eyes on him, she blew aside her single black bang that always hung into her face, and fished up the wad of cash he'd given her, depositing it on a side table, 'ere she sauntered over to him seductively, crossing her legs at the ankle in a catwalk that far outdid her usual streetside strut. It was, of course, all about indulging his fantasy. She cocked her hip out, stopping in front of him, gracing him with a brief smile. "Shall I get a bit more hands-on then, sir?" The question was largely rhetorical - the customer managed only a mute nod. Unity met it with one of her own, and sidled forward, pinning him to the leather couch as her knees hemmed him in at the waist and she settled into the man's lap just a hair away from full contact. The lounge music here was languid, easy, not really any particular track but some looped mix, but Unity didn't care to change it. Instead, she dimmed the lights down to near-darkness, letting the outline of her glow-painted skin trace the suggestion of her shape in the air as she undulated just out of reach. @Better Than Gore
  8. Shit. Thrown right into the maw of the shark tank, Unity froze up again as she felt what must have been every pair of eyes in the establishment swivel to face her like a turret, their curious gazes boring into her side and back like a powered auger. Her hands balled into fists, eyes growing wide as the place spun around her, suddenly overcome with vertigo and nausea. In that moment, she realized she really, really didn't want to be here... especially not dressed like this. With a lost, dilated look, she stared blankly at the stage and strobing lights, a few seconds stretching into multiple eternities of anxiety, the urge to cry and the need to flee vying with each other for dominance - until a gentle hand ran down her back, stilling her tensed muscles, loosening them and slackening her brow. A potent cocktail of mood stabilizers deployed directly into her nervous system, lifting her from the icy grip of fear into an aetherial far dimension, where she felt what might have been close to joy. Or maybe that was just her confusing relief with happiness. A practiced ease released her from her stage-fright, her tall heels rolling her hips into time with her song as she ascended the few stairs to the dais. Already, the dimmed lights and brief strobes shrouded her body in mystery, the silhouette broken only by the taut stretch of mesh over a perky chest and thick, fit rear. She'd ran blackglow through her frosty tips, lending her cropped hair an almost angel like halo under the UV backlights. I guess its time... to dance. An easy toss of the hair... a lean back onto the pole to bob her head easily to the thrum of the beat that both lit the senses and evoked primal emotions, letting the slow buildup move her body the ways that felt right. The rational part of her practice forgotten, she began to shift side to side with one hand back up against the metal, widening her stance with each rock of her hips to show off her toned legs. Strapped into 8 inch platforms, under normal circumstances the agile thief would have been hard pressed to do more than a basic strut in them, but this music had crawled into her ear and it moved her with a sensuality she'd only dreamed of sober. Her cropped little jacket, whose hem had barely cleared the base of her bust, came off almost immediately, revealing two glow in the dark circles under the black mesh of her shirt, bouncing along with her every move. The bright pasties winked at her audience, jiggling on each breast, as she spun abruptly on the ball of her foot and embraced the pole between them, dragging herself suggestively over the cool aluminum, sighing loudly with the kind of need that made every man in the room stiffen instantly. But the music was picking up, and she stalked out in front of the rotating pole now, her shoes drumming the podium in time to the bass, and waited for the brief voice sample that was the only warning to the drop. With abandon, in double time, she moved both erratically and yet with definite purpose, her legs always posing just right after a kick for a pigeon toed, suggestive forward lean or toss of the head, her arms lancing out only to run her fingers indulgently over her body a moment later, throwing out small beads of sweat as she did so. Intense heat radiated from her, as if with fever - a perfect euphoria that soaked her through. Yellow hardlight batons blossomed in her hands, though in the dark it seemed like she had pulled them from the tiny pockets of her booty shorts, and in a blur of neon they carved arcs of light around her writhing form. Some melody beyond the blasting, echoing bass overlaid itself, only in Unity's imagination, timing her erotic contortions into superposition over this simplistic baseline. Like a master ravebunny, she wove a tapestry of light around her in trails of white and yellow, her teasing flesh only visible in the briefest flash of a strobe above. But they wanted to see more than silhouette. She'd cut the little black jeans ahead of time - with a single wrench they tore off, baring her properly... allowing the shapely thief to release an ampoule of UV sensitive paint with a clench of her pelvic floor. Like an exclamation of climactic finality, it splattered out over the stage in a staggered dribble , licking across her thighs on its way down. Fingers trembling with exertion, she slumped back against the pole, dragging the glowing liquid up over the curve of her hips and up her sides, smearing it up over her bust and streaking it out in fading trails into the hollow of her neck with suggestive moans and splayed hands that pawed at her own body. When the music faded out and the lights slowly raised back to normal, all that was left was the sweat-drenched, slightly disheveled girl squatting at the base of the pole, the batons crossed between her legs, breasts heaving with labored breaths. However... she was smiling... a smile that quickly broadened into a shudder and a broad grin. She'd done it.... she'd actually done it. @Better Than Gore
  9. What little practice Unity had managed to get in between the interview and the call had been... mediocre at best. Her employers had been surprisingly unhelpful in this regard - though perhaps she should not have been, given that this was not only a task of ill-repute but also what surely could be seen as a redemption arc. She would have to figure this one out on her own. So she'd posed questions to actual dancers, trying to word them in a manner that made her look like an eager newbie and not, in fact, a clandestine agent. They'd given a lot of conflicting advice, and no small number of anecdotes about guys being grabby which Unity had assumed came with the territory and really wasn't factoring into the whole matter. She had meds to deal with groping hands, but she did not have meds to make her better at working a pole. Finally, one girl gave her an idea she could work with. Eschew the pole almost entirely - and do a dance routine closer to a rave. With sufficiently insufficient clothing and no small amount of glow-in-the-dark paint, the brief flashes of flesh in the strobe lights would be as good a tease as any sensual pole-work... and she didn't quite feel crass enough to go straight to talentless booty-shaking either. Unity had a nice behind but... clapping it like a seal was just abhorrent even to her sensibilities. Besides, it would let her use some of her actual talents in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion. Thus, armed with an upbeat track on vinyl that had cost a hefty dime, and an outfit heavy on the mesh and zippers and little else, the thief found herself once again greeting the bouncer at the door. This time though, they let her straight in... the boss was expecting her. Fantastic. She was on time, but Unity hoped she'd have time to steel herself... maybe rehearse a bit beforehand? First things first though... she needed to hand this disc off to the DJ and AV guy so they'd know what was up. Fleeting around the edge of the place behind the bar island, she bee-lined to the head-bopping dude in sunglasses next to the turntable, hoping to avoid talking to anyone before she managed to tell him what she had in mind. @Better Than Gore
  10. Nice copy pasted note section there bud XD
  11. The girl stooped to retrieve her discarded top from the floor, carefully tying herself back into the bikini while she listened, sensing that the interview was coming to an end. She left the coat lying neatly on the desk, leaning against it with her hip as she looked at Ryker, exhaling a brief laugh at his question. "Oh, that. I'd just bought a new phone and had to change the number. One sec, I've still not quite remembered it..." She slipped her fingers into the band of her little beltskirt, and pulled out what looked like a lighter - a small chrome case. But the device was far more interesting that that. With a pinch of her fingers on some hidden catch, the frame slid open lengthwise into the more familiar outline of a smartphone, generating a screen of light amber hardlight that she tapped at expertly with her thumbnail. The thing looked high-tech as hell, and expensive to boot... a toy the likes of which only the supremely wealthy or someone on the cutting edge of development might have. She pulled up her number on it for him, turning the illuminated screen towards him with a flick of her wrist so that he could take it down. "It's nice to hear you give your girls a chance to succeed, Mr. Albrecht. I can start sometime this week if you'd like..." Unity looked around her, re-evaluating the scenery one last time, before turning back to face Ryker with a soft smile. "I only have two questions - Will I be collecting my own tips? And do you have a theme you'd like me to keep for my outfits?"
  12. Playing with the fur on the coat helped ease the difficulty of meeting his eyes, turning her reticence of addressing him directly into a more endearing feminine coyness. She shrugged lightly at his question, gracing its straightforwardness with her own. "The boys are always watching me as I walk by... figured I'd might as well make them pay for the pleasure of looking. Beyond that, I... dunno. Never finished school." Well, that last part was somewhat true. Her schooling on her homeplane, a place and time that seemed an entire lifetime ago, already lost in myth, had been extremely focused on skill-based instruction. Unity was an amazing thief, and a decent flirt and lover, but not much else. She knew how to read and write, but only the common tongue of where she had come from. Even though her speech to Marcus was without error, it still tinged lightly with her exotic accent, something that even the magical baubles and wetware upgrades could not entirely erase. Likewise, her basic mathematics had been upgraded in speed by the chips in her frontal lobe, but not in their breadth. Simple geometry was about as complex as it came. This was a woman that survived on wit, wisdom, and intuition. "I heard about Fatal Seduction when a friend who comes here sometimes on the open bar nights told me while extremely drunk that I was prettier than any of the girls here, and that if I came here they'd fall dead at the sight. He found it very funny - I just locked him in the bathroom til he sobered up. The name stuck in my mind though, so here I am, I guess."
  13. Unity froze on command, even her breath caught mid-inhalation at his instruction... not daring to relax in the face of the instruction. Abrupt as it was, she could sense purpose behind it... a brazen purpose that unfolded just at the edge of her peripheral vision. With her head leaned back, her hands caught up in her frosty locks, the girl looked like she was indulging his fantasy, presenting herself as a tableau of pleasures physical and chemical. In reality, however, her eyes closed in bitterness, unable to turn the camera on the evidence being brazenly scattered over the swell of her chest, and aghast at the indignity of it all. Her jaw set grimly, resisting the urge to shudder with all her might, as his nostril crudely smeared the stimulant down the curve of her left breast. His finger scraping the remainder away was the cherry on top, and her own nose flared briefly in disgust... a detail she hoped he'd not notice in his immediate high. Of course, it just made him all the more manic. The shapely thief had hardly relaxed her neck back down to look at him and worked out the kink in it with a roll of her shoulder, than he scooped her up to seat her on the desk. Instinctively, she caught him by the lapel to avoid falling backward... and instantly regretted it. Now he'd think she was into him. A brief frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, but by the time Ryker tossed her the coat she'd turned it back to a pleasant smile that did not reach up to her eyes. She caught the heavy coat easily, cradling it across her midsection to cover herself from him, but did not deign to put it on. No amount of warmth was going to still her imperceptible trembling. Instead, she turned to look at him with a slight cock of the head, and shrugged lightly. "Like what?"
  14. I have some further questions about this but I am too tired atm to formulate them, so, til tomorrow.
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