# Hyper-Reality - Session 004 > [!important] Author's Notes > Here we are, session four. I'm confident in stating that last game was just a flash in the pan. This is actually *really* fun. I even drafted some quick lore pages, just in case y'all got lost. > ヾ(>ヮ<*) > > Life has been stressful, lately. One of my loved ones is goin' through hell, and I'm going cold-turkey on caffeine and antidepressos.^[Apparently I was taking the equiv of **3.3 L** of coffee? Yeah, it was pretty bad. (っ>ω<c)] > > Today, we join a new pair of characters below the gang stronghold Amber and Dutchko were scoping out in [[Hyper-Reality - Session 003|S003]]. Name's [[Don Testarossa|Don]], and his partner's [[Riley Dyson|Riley]]. Full statsheets are to come. > > Quick note on style: I'm abandoning italics for dialogue. It's common in roleplay circles, but printed fiction gets by just fine. > > \- Axi, 2025-01-18 ### El Camino Dorado trade center, sublevel II, Unknown Time "Gentlemen. Surely we can come to an agreement..." Don cracked a practiced smirk as he studied his negotiators' faces in the diffuse neon light. His eyes scanned for the slightest twitch of their heavy brows, all while trying to ignore the body pooling blood on the concrete floor. Luckily, Riley was still intact. A covert glance at his vulpine ears confirmed he was ready as ever. Don continued, running his hand through his spiked blue pompadour^[AI art sucks. [[Don Testarossa|I wanted a spiked blue pompadour, an ended up with LEDs on his nipples.]] It'll do... for now.], "You really didn't have to shoot my fixer, you know. Guy had his vices, stole a few cryptos. I'll get you those launchers next week, and you'll be good to go." The three men said something in Spanish. His damn [[Brainwave]]'s translator app didn't work underground. With a thought, he silently ordered Riley to track the guy holding a machete. Meanwhile, shotgun-queen in the left corner wouldn't risk cooking off the box of [[Weapon Tech in 2095#Gyrocs|gyroc]] rounds Don sat on. Or maybe she would. That was the sort of gamble you'd take, as an arms-dealer. The projections got worse by the millisecond. Shotgun-queen didn't like Don's next try at smoothing things over, though [[Available Races#Cyborg|tin man]] kept her on a leash. A slight distraction was all he'd need to get the fuck outta here. A burst of gunfire arrived as a series of thuds through the ceiling. No surprise. Probably some snitch gettin' sodomized with lead. The leader lit a cig with a blue flame from his fingertip, just to show off his cojones. Then came the second one. The whole room shook like a bomb went off. Maybe it did, because concrete dust showered everyone inside. The lights went dark moments later. > [!check] Don Testarossa > **Notice:** 10 - *Success* The outline of the fumbled shotgun against the blue flame was all Don needed. He dove for the floor, guessed his aim, and fired at bossman's position. The awkward grip damn near broke his arm, but he was rewarded with a shower of sparks as the cyborg rapidly disassembled. The light had its downsides though. He'd be quick enough to roll aside as shotgun-queen stomped at his head, but instead her boot caught his hair. > [!mythic] Mythic > **Question:** Does "shotgun-queen" keep her foot down? > *Exceptional No!* Don was quick to react. A swipe of his hand across his calf, and he'd already grabbed his trusty [[Weapon Tech in 2095#Blamite|blamite]] "toothpick". Her jabbed the faintly-glowing crystal in her calf, where it exploded as ten thousand tiny shards. No bueno. Despite the blamite rending her muscle, she'd only stagger, call him a maricón, and grab her own shiv for payback. She hurled her body at the floor, aiming right at Don's exposed abs. White-hot pain spiked through Don as the steel ripped through him, dulled only by adrenaline and primal rage. He struggled to get her off, grappling with her in the dark like goddamn animals. This bitch had him by the balls. Quite literally, a moment later. Taking the hint, he summoned every ounce of his strength to shove her aside, and grab the shotgun nearby. A pump of the grip - rubberized for sweaty moments like these - and he blew the bitch to kingdom-come. Meanwhile, Riley had just finished working his magic. As he helped him up, Don spared a ragged glance at his Riley's victim. The corpse sat against the wall, missing arms and half a brain. The torso was almost untouched, just lines of blood on his tee-shirt where Riley's nanite blade had ran him through. "You hurt?" asked Riley, his resonant voice only slightly perturbed by their actions. "Nothing I can't handle... Ahh, easy now." Don clenched his fists and shuddered as Riley applied a liberal layer of biofoam to his stomach wounds. The stuff hurt, but it was a miracle in your pocket. Riley always kept a spare canister on his holster, just in case. The gunfire above them sure didn't help. "We've got to get out of here." Riley said. "Whaat, and scrap the deal? We're owed good money for this stuff." Riley's cute features soured at the jest. "Are you insane? We could've *died* here!" Don took it in stride. "No mas! No mas. Check the bodies for [[The Hypernet#Datagram|datagrams]] and valuables. We'll make the plan as we go along." Riley affirmed, and quickly scoured the other goons. Meanwhile Don checked the pockets and datacache of his second victim. "What a waste of good ass," he seethed, finding nothing but ramen money and a dime-bag of Red in her pockets. > [!inventory] Inventory: Don Testarossa > ++ 22◈ Cryptos > ++ 57₳ Aztecas > +~ 5g of Red Sand > +~ 220x family photos As usual, Don flicked through a handful of his fallen opponent's cherished memories. A young son here, a family reunion there. No blood and guts though. He wondered how much shotgun-queen was into cartel life. No time to lament, though. Hearing Riley'd nabbed a datagram from the cyborg, Don grabbed his shotgun and chambered another round. Time to blow this popsicle-stand. --- > [[Hyper-Reality - Session 003|Session 003]] | [[Hyper-Reality - Session 005|Session 005]]