Girl's Frontline: Wicked Animandum
- Thread starter Lurkman
- Start date
- Mature Sci-Fi Modern
Lurkman
Guardian of Bad Opinions
- Location
- Slovakia
Beep.
So, uh... status report, I guess? I'm doing well, the main obstacle this time was procrastination. New semester just started, which means I've got responsibilities again. But not to worry, one or two of these rensponsibilities are actually beneficial to the quest. Or, beneficial to V rather. Expect to see a survey of some kind in the future, the nature of which will be kept secret for now. Until then, enjoy all the V I have to offer this time.
Remember to treat your shotguns! ^^
So, uh... status report, I guess? I'm doing well, the main obstacle this time was procrastination. New semester just started, which means I've got responsibilities again. But not to worry, one or two of these rensponsibilities are actually beneficial to the quest. Or, beneficial to V rather. Expect to see a survey of some kind in the future, the nature of which will be kept secret for now. Until then, enjoy all the V I have to offer this time.
Remember to treat your shotguns! ^^
Chapter 112
Lurkman
Guardian of Bad Opinions
- Location
- Slovakia
With the Sun still hanging so high, it was hard to believe today has had two rescue operations already, one more successful than the other. However, time still passes inevitably, and the yellowing hue of the sky reminds you that the shadows lining the streets will only be growing bigger.
The other team of Groza, Ouroboros and David took the jeep for their mission, so you and AA-12 decided to make the distance to your objective on foot, according to the mechanic Luv's directions.
"Say, V…" Began AA-12, walking next to you. "Aren't you worried someone might… y'know, recognize you?"
"Not at all." You reply, simply. "Before I left, I had a big overhaul of my frame. Only my closest co-workers might recognize me now, if they haven't forgotten about me. Frankly, it's better if they did."
"Hm, fair."
"Speaking of…" You take a peek at the shotgun next to you. "I get the feeling you're more worried about someone recognizing you, wearing that hood and all~"
"It's called being inconspicuous."
"Ah, right. Snow white hoodie and huuuuge shield panels are very inconspicuous~" You tease.
"Gimmie a break. I'm a shotgun! It's a miracle I managed to hide my gun and ammo…" She tries to hide the bulges in her zipped-up hoodie caused by her gun hidden underneath. "I'd love to see your tiny ass hide a meter long full automatic."
"Shame, I love seeing what you hide beneath there." You sigh, directing a dreamy gaze forward. "That smooth metallic texture, those big round magazines, your curvy-"
"Not listeniiing!" She yells as she covers her ears and hides her face in her hoodie. Though it almost leads to her gun sliding out from under her clothes, so she stumbles on the sidewalk and blushes even harder. You giggle adoringly.
"Hahah~ Seriously though, 12, we're not going to some high class establishment or the city center. It's okay to show a little hardware~"
Saying that, you stretch your hands above your head without a care in the world, as your gun sits comfortably on your lower back and grenades are clunking safely under your poncho. Anyone who looks ever a little closer would see you're packing heat, but that wouldn't be an issue here. If anything, looking innocent and deceptive in this territory would be the opposite of what you want.
"Easy for you to say, you're the one pretending to be human." Replies AA-12. You know what she's getting at.
"Well, unlike your previous commander, I'm not gonna treat you like dirt." You pat her on the back… well, on her shields. You're not that tall.
"And unlike my previous commander, I can leave you at any time."
"You wouldn't break my heart like that, would you?~"
"Not without reason, no~" The shotgun quips back, plopping a new lollipop into her mouth. "Which you tend to give me plenty of."
Just like that, you've rid her of tension without her even noticing, and you as well to a certain extent. This is what it truly means to be inconspicuous: simply walking down the street without a care in the world, chatting along. Any passerby won't give a second look this way.
Passing another block, it feels like you've just crossed into a rougher neighborhood. There's graffiti on the walls, old-style decrepit advertisements, and folk walking around with their hands always in their pockets and hoods up. Somehow it's just the way you remember.
"... Sun's getting low. How do we even know if we got the right place?"
"Well…" As you're about to say, you pick up on the faint noise of motor engines in the distance. "I'd say just follow the noise."
AA-12 narrows her eyes. The odd civilian car passes by the sidewalk here and there, but just now you spot a bike with a bright blue paint job and visible modifications, its rider equally decorated in similar colors and vinyls.
"... that our target?" Asks AA-12.
"Nope. Just some kid that thinks flame vinyls are still cool." You chuckle. "Our target is orange."
Alas, you observe as the decorated bike rider rounds a corner into an inconspicuous alley. You nudge your companion, rounding the same corner. What you saw next was quite a surprise.
What was a supposed racing ring looks more like a motor enthusiast convention. Dozens of bikers and their bikes, big and small, are putting themselves on display and are surrounded by admirers and fans. Though it also lacked the refinement of a proper rally, hence the street aesthetic of everyone's attire, lack of flags and checker patterns, and saddening absence of rally girls. You could almost cry.
A nudge from AA-12 brings your attention back to more important things. Standing and staring at the entrance would make you look suspicious, so proceed to enter the alley proper. People and bikers seem to line its whole length, and there's clear signs of gang influence. There's a few bikers with gang insignias you recognize, surrounded by thugs with similar colors. You also notice some particularly intimidating folk observing the crowds, peacekeepers, judging by their hidden guns your keen eyes can spot. It appears this racing ring is a way for various gangs to make bets and settle scores in a more peaceful way, while also gathering an audience. This means quite a lot of people, so you have quite a bit to go through to find who you're looking for.
You close your eyes for a moment to remind yourself of the target vehicle in detail. A Ducati Diavel Draxter, a sports bike with a clean orange paint job and modifications for speed. You try to think back to when you first saw it. You remember the revving of the engine, Bizon's voice, even the voice of the driver…
"Step on it, Mark 5!"
"What about Lupara?!"
"I said go!"
In a moment, you were left in the dust. And now you're here, finally catching up. Opening your eyes, you now feel like you know exactly what you're looking for. This "Mark 5" is your best bet at finding Bizon. So you observe the engines on display.
Among many rides, there's one guy with a dirt bike. You can't quite tell what it's doing at a downtown racing ring, but if off-roading is allowed, it might have an edge. Still, it would probably be considered cheating, so that kid's likely just showing off or waiting to get kicked out. Cute pink paint job though. Could be a tight fit for two, but not impossible.
The one next to it confused you even more though, as it was an old-school chopper, complete with a flag of Britannia. The flame vinyls actually worked for this classic, but it felt out of place on a racing ring all the same. King of the highway for sure, but tight street corners would be tough to deal with. The owner was as pretentious as his overgrown beard.
Going further, you see a more competent looking motorcycle, but it came with a sidecar. Perhaps the owner and their partner planned to disconnect it before the race, because otherwise it's just dead weight. Too wide, too heavy. Would need a wrench for that though…
"Don't see the Deadline Tsars anywhere," whispers the shotgun.
"Makes sense. Likely keeping a low profile." They did shoot up an entire motel, you want to add, but that doesn't need to be said here.
Instead, you listen. You watch out. You reach out with your senses, filtering all the voices and conversations around you.
"I got these parts from the exclusion zone. Had to fight some scavs for it. Won't find anything like this baby!" Boasts an overconfident biker.
"Are we still waiting on anyone?"
You then hear some gangsters chatting away from the crowd.
"Got word that the Tsars just cancelled, so just Watanabe and Haze to go now. We got an awful lot of walk-ins though."
"Not Black Rider I hope?"
"Nah, haven't seen her anywhere yet, though that midget's easy to overlook…"
"I'd prefer that yakuza-looking bitch doesn't take first place again…"
A pair of spectators were gossiping just nearby.
"You heard about Tommie? Broke his leg during a squabble with the Tsars. And right after winning last week's race."
"C'mon, if they did that, wouldn't they be here capitalizing on his absence? Guy just had an accident, I tell you."
But then, AA-12 nudges you to look forward, and you hear something that causes your speech recognition software to flare up. A female voice that says…
"Roger. I look forward to the next challenge."
Looking in the direction of the voice at once, you catch glimpses of orange through the moving crowd. It was a sports bike, the sports bike, modified and all. And the one sitting on it has just snapped shut her folding phone, putting on an orange helmet with similar white stripes as her vehicle. But before you got much closer, her head turned your way.
You can't see her eyes through the dark tint of her visor, but the way it lingers on you for that timeless moment, you can't help but feel you've been recognized. Next thing you know, she's stepping on the gas.
"That's her!" You call out.
"Shit, out of the way!" AA-12 curses, trying to push through the crowd.
The sudden acceleration of the bike causes bystanders to hurriedly step away, right into your path. The engine roars, the wheels spin, and your target's on its way out of the crowded alley. Your digimind goes a hundred miles per hour, thinking of what to do. You can't keep up with a speeding sports bike, and you can't open fire in such a crowded environment. But not to worry, there's just one option to catch up then…
You are standing in the middle of a racing ring after all.
Looking around, you have three immediate options. The dirt bike, the chopper, and the motorcycle with the sidecar. Each of these could carry both you and AA-12. Nothing ideal, but you don't have the luxury of running back and fighting the armed thugs for their sports bikes. So, after weighing the benefits of each, you go for the…
[ ] dirt bike
[ ] chopper
[ ] bike with sidecar
The other team of Groza, Ouroboros and David took the jeep for their mission, so you and AA-12 decided to make the distance to your objective on foot, according to the mechanic Luv's directions.
"Say, V…" Began AA-12, walking next to you. "Aren't you worried someone might… y'know, recognize you?"
"Not at all." You reply, simply. "Before I left, I had a big overhaul of my frame. Only my closest co-workers might recognize me now, if they haven't forgotten about me. Frankly, it's better if they did."
"Hm, fair."
"Speaking of…" You take a peek at the shotgun next to you. "I get the feeling you're more worried about someone recognizing you, wearing that hood and all~"
"It's called being inconspicuous."
"Ah, right. Snow white hoodie and huuuuge shield panels are very inconspicuous~" You tease.
"Gimmie a break. I'm a shotgun! It's a miracle I managed to hide my gun and ammo…" She tries to hide the bulges in her zipped-up hoodie caused by her gun hidden underneath. "I'd love to see your tiny ass hide a meter long full automatic."
"Shame, I love seeing what you hide beneath there." You sigh, directing a dreamy gaze forward. "That smooth metallic texture, those big round magazines, your curvy-"
"Not listeniiing!" She yells as she covers her ears and hides her face in her hoodie. Though it almost leads to her gun sliding out from under her clothes, so she stumbles on the sidewalk and blushes even harder. You giggle adoringly.
"Hahah~ Seriously though, 12, we're not going to some high class establishment or the city center. It's okay to show a little hardware~"
Saying that, you stretch your hands above your head without a care in the world, as your gun sits comfortably on your lower back and grenades are clunking safely under your poncho. Anyone who looks ever a little closer would see you're packing heat, but that wouldn't be an issue here. If anything, looking innocent and deceptive in this territory would be the opposite of what you want.
"Easy for you to say, you're the one pretending to be human." Replies AA-12. You know what she's getting at.
"Well, unlike your previous commander, I'm not gonna treat you like dirt." You pat her on the back… well, on her shields. You're not that tall.
"And unlike my previous commander, I can leave you at any time."
"You wouldn't break my heart like that, would you?~"
"Not without reason, no~" The shotgun quips back, plopping a new lollipop into her mouth. "Which you tend to give me plenty of."
Just like that, you've rid her of tension without her even noticing, and you as well to a certain extent. This is what it truly means to be inconspicuous: simply walking down the street without a care in the world, chatting along. Any passerby won't give a second look this way.
Passing another block, it feels like you've just crossed into a rougher neighborhood. There's graffiti on the walls, old-style decrepit advertisements, and folk walking around with their hands always in their pockets and hoods up. Somehow it's just the way you remember.
"... Sun's getting low. How do we even know if we got the right place?"
"Well…" As you're about to say, you pick up on the faint noise of motor engines in the distance. "I'd say just follow the noise."
AA-12 narrows her eyes. The odd civilian car passes by the sidewalk here and there, but just now you spot a bike with a bright blue paint job and visible modifications, its rider equally decorated in similar colors and vinyls.
"... that our target?" Asks AA-12.
"Nope. Just some kid that thinks flame vinyls are still cool." You chuckle. "Our target is orange."
Alas, you observe as the decorated bike rider rounds a corner into an inconspicuous alley. You nudge your companion, rounding the same corner. What you saw next was quite a surprise.
What was a supposed racing ring looks more like a motor enthusiast convention. Dozens of bikers and their bikes, big and small, are putting themselves on display and are surrounded by admirers and fans. Though it also lacked the refinement of a proper rally, hence the street aesthetic of everyone's attire, lack of flags and checker patterns, and saddening absence of rally girls. You could almost cry.
A nudge from AA-12 brings your attention back to more important things. Standing and staring at the entrance would make you look suspicious, so proceed to enter the alley proper. People and bikers seem to line its whole length, and there's clear signs of gang influence. There's a few bikers with gang insignias you recognize, surrounded by thugs with similar colors. You also notice some particularly intimidating folk observing the crowds, peacekeepers, judging by their hidden guns your keen eyes can spot. It appears this racing ring is a way for various gangs to make bets and settle scores in a more peaceful way, while also gathering an audience. This means quite a lot of people, so you have quite a bit to go through to find who you're looking for.
You close your eyes for a moment to remind yourself of the target vehicle in detail. A Ducati Diavel Draxter, a sports bike with a clean orange paint job and modifications for speed. You try to think back to when you first saw it. You remember the revving of the engine, Bizon's voice, even the voice of the driver…
"Step on it, Mark 5!"
"What about Lupara?!"
"I said go!"
In a moment, you were left in the dust. And now you're here, finally catching up. Opening your eyes, you now feel like you know exactly what you're looking for. This "Mark 5" is your best bet at finding Bizon. So you observe the engines on display.
Among many rides, there's one guy with a dirt bike. You can't quite tell what it's doing at a downtown racing ring, but if off-roading is allowed, it might have an edge. Still, it would probably be considered cheating, so that kid's likely just showing off or waiting to get kicked out. Cute pink paint job though. Could be a tight fit for two, but not impossible.
The one next to it confused you even more though, as it was an old-school chopper, complete with a flag of Britannia. The flame vinyls actually worked for this classic, but it felt out of place on a racing ring all the same. King of the highway for sure, but tight street corners would be tough to deal with. The owner was as pretentious as his overgrown beard.
Going further, you see a more competent looking motorcycle, but it came with a sidecar. Perhaps the owner and their partner planned to disconnect it before the race, because otherwise it's just dead weight. Too wide, too heavy. Would need a wrench for that though…
"Don't see the Deadline Tsars anywhere," whispers the shotgun.
"Makes sense. Likely keeping a low profile." They did shoot up an entire motel, you want to add, but that doesn't need to be said here.
Instead, you listen. You watch out. You reach out with your senses, filtering all the voices and conversations around you.
"I got these parts from the exclusion zone. Had to fight some scavs for it. Won't find anything like this baby!" Boasts an overconfident biker.
"Are we still waiting on anyone?"
You then hear some gangsters chatting away from the crowd.
"Got word that the Tsars just cancelled, so just Watanabe and Haze to go now. We got an awful lot of walk-ins though."
"Not Black Rider I hope?"
"Nah, haven't seen her anywhere yet, though that midget's easy to overlook…"
"I'd prefer that yakuza-looking bitch doesn't take first place again…"
A pair of spectators were gossiping just nearby.
"You heard about Tommie? Broke his leg during a squabble with the Tsars. And right after winning last week's race."
"C'mon, if they did that, wouldn't they be here capitalizing on his absence? Guy just had an accident, I tell you."
But then, AA-12 nudges you to look forward, and you hear something that causes your speech recognition software to flare up. A female voice that says…
"Roger. I look forward to the next challenge."
Looking in the direction of the voice at once, you catch glimpses of orange through the moving crowd. It was a sports bike, the sports bike, modified and all. And the one sitting on it has just snapped shut her folding phone, putting on an orange helmet with similar white stripes as her vehicle. But before you got much closer, her head turned your way.
You can't see her eyes through the dark tint of her visor, but the way it lingers on you for that timeless moment, you can't help but feel you've been recognized. Next thing you know, she's stepping on the gas.
"That's her!" You call out.
"Shit, out of the way!" AA-12 curses, trying to push through the crowd.
The sudden acceleration of the bike causes bystanders to hurriedly step away, right into your path. The engine roars, the wheels spin, and your target's on its way out of the crowded alley. Your digimind goes a hundred miles per hour, thinking of what to do. You can't keep up with a speeding sports bike, and you can't open fire in such a crowded environment. But not to worry, there's just one option to catch up then…
You are standing in the middle of a racing ring after all.
Looking around, you have three immediate options. The dirt bike, the chopper, and the motorcycle with the sidecar. Each of these could carry both you and AA-12. Nothing ideal, but you don't have the luxury of running back and fighting the armed thugs for their sports bikes. So, after weighing the benefits of each, you go for the…
[ ] dirt bike
[ ] chopper
[ ] bike with sidecar
- Location
- Internet
[X] dirt bike
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] dirt bike
The dirt bike and its maneuverability seems most appropiate for the tight city streets.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- Him/Mr
[X] dirt bike
Jade Isentry
The Impregnable
- Location
- ARES Central Base, Blackwater
[X] dirt bike
I don't know much about bikes and what not, would a dirt bike be able to keep up speed-wise with that modified sport bike?