Hey, I am a simple nerd who enjoys doing things. I like to draw, I sometimes paint and write. I also run a Cyberpunk 2020 game with my friends.
If a picture has a thousand words, then a life would be priceless. Except in 2020, everything has a price. Shigeko Oe, nineteen, a hitter for the bosozoku gang, the ‘Banzai Bangers’ understood this quite well. It didn’t matter what needed to be taken care of, Oe would be the first on the call list. The streets whisper her name in fear of crossing her path. They call her ‘Hannya’, as the last thing you see is her sadistically sharp smile. Her reputation for being a cold-blooded killer has garnered attention across New Chiba. Everyone knows the ‘Hannya’ demon girl and her hunger for blood and coin. Oe like many children was once an innocent child with wondrous goals and dreams. And like dreams, they end. She was no different. Chewed up and swallowed by this vile city. The child became just like all the others, another product of vice. Who could blame her? In this city of corruption, the streets starve, and well, a gal’s gotta eat. As the weight of her name continues to grow, one thing remains clear, Oe is untouchable, and nothing could possibly break her.
Smoke geysers, ash clouds, and the smell of burning fat. I stood under moonlight as the flakes of grease stuck to my skin. I blinked twice. Every time it became harder to see, my eyelashes thick with soot, irritating me to tears. My sight returned and in front of me stood a young woman with alabaster skin, her hands held tightly in mine. I rose my eyes to meet hers, consciously memorizing every detail of this stranger. She had rolled up sleeves, part of a brown wool sweater. A warmth washed over me. I couldn’t shake this sudden feeling of familiarity. The woman gave me a smile that in an instant, transformed into a frown and she shouted in a deep voice, “HEY STARGAZER! ORDER UP!”
A low bellow coursed through my body, shaking me, as the vibration of the ship’s foghorn roared two decks above. Wakeup call. I stretched my arms and legs as I tossed around in my canvas hammock, savouring the mere seconds of peace. I rose my sullied hands up to my face, rubbing sunken, weary eyes. With my creased knuckles I began scraping the film that glued my eyelids shut. This film appears on everything, unbiased. It gathers on your eyelids, hands, and feet. No one is immune, not my fellow mates nor the cook, not even the Captain, and most certainly not I. This film is the Salt. The Salt that lingers in the damp air of this wretched place, the Salt that commands the tides of the Shadowy Sea and the Salt that fills any old Skulker’s veins, just like mine.
Good morning HISOKA, the time is 8:00 am. Your train on the ORANGE LINE will be arriving in ten minutes. Your shift at PAN-GROUND COMMUNICATIONS will start at 9:00 am. You have a meeting scheduled with the REGIONAL DIRECTOR at 9:30am…
No Date Awaiting day and night, a tainted luck in its shell. House of brass. A prayer to spark. This solitude, that purposeful right, a dream of hell in heavenly brimstone. It lives to serve the moment in might. It is the fire born of blackened light. It craves the wind by misty ears as it rushes pass those years and years with seconds in its way. Afar beyond metallic dreams, the end stood near beginning to loom its cruelty and fear. It hungers the mark through a spiral moon, to split the sky of clouded minds to cease the pain that never came. It is the emissary of absolute fate, subjected to patience and a history of hate. The time betrayed its promised lie, but it awaits the day and awaits the night like hardened steel, tempered and sane. Was it a crime to be this tame? This forgotten spear, the fated lame, the unnamed death put to shame?
It is here, on the streets of Petersburg where the shadowy thoughts emerged. The rain beckoning pain and I expressing sorrow with each step. A filth that pelted my soul with every drop of painted muck. It felt like spring, or maybe more like fall? The nature of this place left me in wonder, a wandering amusement.