lickquidsecksy
Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 13, 2020
- Posts
- 255
Name: Atofarati Aboderin
Nickname: "Tofa"
Age: 22
Profession: University Student: Majoring in Subspace Ballistics
Occupation: Data Courier (Licensed for Corporate-Grade Armaments)
https://artignition.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Matt-Zeilinger-Cyberpunk-Ideas.jpg
Tofa moved through the streets of Nairobi, sliding through the crowds in the Race Course Market, keeping an eye on the lights from the university. Block by block, he drew nearer to his goal.
Behind him, three shadows flitted in and out of his awareness. They were just as fast, and as he got closer to the university, its gates, and its guards, they were growing less concerned about drawing attention.
Turning quickly down a dark road that tourists avoided by nature, Tofa broke into a run. He knew these streets, had grown up on them. He could take three-on-one in his home turf.
Turning down a path used by children playing football in the barren field that served as a pitch. Tofas bravado quickly faded as he reminded himself that the decision was tactical. He didn't know if he could "take" them. He just didn't want any bystanders shot on his run.
Behind him, he heard the sound of feet hitting the ground hard as his pursuers abandoned stealth and broke into a run behind him. He heard a smattering of dutch among the grunts and curses. South African mercenaries. Whatever this was, it was valuable.
Tofa began to pump his legs harder, kicking up big clouds of dust behind him. He'd played countless games of football on this pitch. He could do it with his eyes closed. He then skidded to a stop, and jumped over the ditch filled with rusted bikes that the neighborhood boys used as a urinal.
On the other side, he scrambled under the fence instead of over it, slithering through the space that the local kids made to get away from cops and gangs. As he stood and picked up his run, he heard a crash and a high-pitched scream.
"Fok!"
Smiling, and trying not to let laughter interrupt his breathing, Tofa ran all the way to the university gates before smoothing his jacket, giving the guards a friendly smile...
"Hey Tofa! Bawo!"
"Bawo yourself Johnny! You're improving!"
...and walking casually into the student lounge.
Once inside, he scanned the room and sank slowly into what looked lie the softest chair in it. His shoes felt heavy on his burning feet. His suit could pass in the dark, fifty feet from the guard station, but it was an obvious mess under the fluorescent lights of the student center lobby. The worst was the Poly-steel vest cutting into his ribs. It could stop a .357 at point-blank range but it was an absolute bitch to run in.
After giving up on trying to find a comfortable sitting position, Tofa simply ignored his complaining ribs and looked at the data satchel he was carrying. It was a heavy case made of composite plastics, probably designed to withstand a nuke. He was wearing a kill bracelet slaved to the case. It was probably the only thing that kept the mercenaries someone hired from just shooting him and taking it. He dies, the case erases itself.
If he'd had any sense, he would have dropped the contract the second he saw the kill collar. They didn't use actual 'collars' anymore, and the bracelet does a better job demotivating an attacker than a collar ever did motivating a courier, but the message is the same.
"Fuck up and you die," Tofa said with a wry chuckle.
"What?"
Tofa then turned to face what must have been the only other student that was awake at 4:37 AM on the University of Nairobi's Campus.
Nickname: "Tofa"
Age: 22
Profession: University Student: Majoring in Subspace Ballistics
Occupation: Data Courier (Licensed for Corporate-Grade Armaments)
https://artignition.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Matt-Zeilinger-Cyberpunk-Ideas.jpg
Tofa moved through the streets of Nairobi, sliding through the crowds in the Race Course Market, keeping an eye on the lights from the university. Block by block, he drew nearer to his goal.
Behind him, three shadows flitted in and out of his awareness. They were just as fast, and as he got closer to the university, its gates, and its guards, they were growing less concerned about drawing attention.
Turning quickly down a dark road that tourists avoided by nature, Tofa broke into a run. He knew these streets, had grown up on them. He could take three-on-one in his home turf.
Turning down a path used by children playing football in the barren field that served as a pitch. Tofas bravado quickly faded as he reminded himself that the decision was tactical. He didn't know if he could "take" them. He just didn't want any bystanders shot on his run.
Behind him, he heard the sound of feet hitting the ground hard as his pursuers abandoned stealth and broke into a run behind him. He heard a smattering of dutch among the grunts and curses. South African mercenaries. Whatever this was, it was valuable.
Tofa began to pump his legs harder, kicking up big clouds of dust behind him. He'd played countless games of football on this pitch. He could do it with his eyes closed. He then skidded to a stop, and jumped over the ditch filled with rusted bikes that the neighborhood boys used as a urinal.
On the other side, he scrambled under the fence instead of over it, slithering through the space that the local kids made to get away from cops and gangs. As he stood and picked up his run, he heard a crash and a high-pitched scream.
"Fok!"
Smiling, and trying not to let laughter interrupt his breathing, Tofa ran all the way to the university gates before smoothing his jacket, giving the guards a friendly smile...
"Hey Tofa! Bawo!"
"Bawo yourself Johnny! You're improving!"
...and walking casually into the student lounge.
Once inside, he scanned the room and sank slowly into what looked lie the softest chair in it. His shoes felt heavy on his burning feet. His suit could pass in the dark, fifty feet from the guard station, but it was an obvious mess under the fluorescent lights of the student center lobby. The worst was the Poly-steel vest cutting into his ribs. It could stop a .357 at point-blank range but it was an absolute bitch to run in.
After giving up on trying to find a comfortable sitting position, Tofa simply ignored his complaining ribs and looked at the data satchel he was carrying. It was a heavy case made of composite plastics, probably designed to withstand a nuke. He was wearing a kill bracelet slaved to the case. It was probably the only thing that kept the mercenaries someone hired from just shooting him and taking it. He dies, the case erases itself.
If he'd had any sense, he would have dropped the contract the second he saw the kill collar. They didn't use actual 'collars' anymore, and the bracelet does a better job demotivating an attacker than a collar ever did motivating a courier, but the message is the same.
"Fuck up and you die," Tofa said with a wry chuckle.
"What?"
Tofa then turned to face what must have been the only other student that was awake at 4:37 AM on the University of Nairobi's Campus.