[-An unknown criminal has gotten into an abandoned warehouse, which military law enforcement has suspected to be one of the latest spots for drug trafficking in the Capsa section of Tokyo Metropolis. As for now, we don’t have that much info on what is happening, but the police are -]
The female Japanese Necrofriggian delivers the news in the native tongue of the land on the flat screen television, as some people within an group of many, many members of an bar, in one of the many ‘hoods’ of the metropolis, mainly in the city of Neo-Tokyo, are tuned to what it is happening at the warehouse. He puffs out an big huff from his aged wood grain filled cigar, through his nose, as his female significant other, arms crossed, watches if anything else comes up that catches her, and her husband’s attention.
The boss’s attention.
Sitting under some dim lighting that needs some fixing with an simple adjustment and bulb changing. His pals sit around him, tuned to what could happen next on the screen, as the ambient sounds of the gang’s chatters, laughter, drinking alcohol, some heated moaning behind some of the doors of the bar, checking phones for a second, and the almost complete silence of the bartender watching and washing glasses. An piece of post-cyberpunk scenery for sure.
But then, an knock.
From that one crack of an sound on an steel frame in an opening of the front of the bar, everyone in the bar looks right at the door, as one of the pals of the boss, with no sleeves on his leather jacket, in the table gets up from his seat, attached to the stone/steel infused floor, and wall, and look through the crude mechanical peephole. He then opens the thin, thin slider at top of the door.
[“What’s the password?”] The Japanese gang member asks in tongue, in an cautious, but stern and aged tone.
An short opause.
“Caps Play”, an female voice answers the question.
[“Alrigh’. Come right in, rookie.”]
The door opens up and an red head, with 2 low and short ponytails, and green, wearing denim jeans, an mainly blue hooded sailor fuku like jacket with rolled up sleeves, walks in the door and the tension from the lungs is released from the gang’s lungs.
[“Don’t call me rookie, Yamagata.”] The 18 year old looking woman grumbled to the original gangster.
[“Yeah, whatever you say, Isabel.”] Isabel huffed at the right hand man of the gang as she walks into the bar stools and the voice of the news reporter got her attention.
[-We are now getting an confirmation that an UA Hero would come to the scene of the crime within the warehouse, which has been confirmed to be the drug traffic spot police has been cracking to crush since 3 years ago. But, we still don’t know who are the exact criminals who run this spot. We will get more details are this goes on-]
Neon lights pierce the black night; a city that truly never sleeps. Motorcycle engines roar alongside incessant car horns and sirens, joined by stereos blasting top hits- this is the music of Neo Tokyo. The Capsule gang listens.
Neo Tokyo-aesthetic fanmix for all of your cyberpunk metropolis-citizen needs. click here to listen.