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A Union Fare

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  1. #1
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    Jordan Riley
    Union Hunter & Shade Shard
    Allocating 3 dots to PRES 3, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 2


    Fuck, her shoulder hurt. It hadn't stopped throbbing, and there was a point under the curve of the blade pinched something fierce. Changing from her uniform to her street cloths, was painful. Just getting her shoulder in and out of the sleeves was agony. She knew nothing was broken, but as the bruise darkened and spread, and the pain didn't ease...Jordan was fairly sure that something was cracked.

    Fuck, she's supposed to meet the others tonight and check out the docks. Maybe she could talk Jimmy into letting her takeover the radios tonight.

    Hefting her bag over her uninjured shoulder she tries to hail a cab, because the same writhing mess of shadowy tentacles and serrated teeth...claw things that fucked her shoulder over, also totaled her car.

    Eventually a taxi pulled up and Jordan leans over to ask, "Hey, can you take me to the corner of [here] and [here]?" sure it was a little far, but Jordan wasn't going to be walking the streets at night alone. With no one she trusted at her back. At least, not anymore.

    Hearing the driver's agreement, Jordan slides into the car and closes the door, and if this cabbie was a monster, well. Jordan always carried a pocket knife.

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  3. #2
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    The driver turns slowly to face Jordan as she clambers into the vehicle. It an older lady; a frump; a brick with a slick gourd for a head, her hair wrapped in a turban reminiscent of the war posters co-opted by the Feminists years later. Thick horn rimmed glasses. Garish orange lipstick on a slit like mouth.

    A small hand fumbles for the sound system, shutting off the Beatles Tomorrow Never Knows.

    "Hello. My name is Connie. I am your driver tonight," the woman responded without a shred of enthusiasm in a voice at once gravelly and nasal.

    "Thats a little far out. You sure you okay honey?" The driver - Connie - continued with her unenthusiastic monotone. She was already turning away, shuffling forward to peer over the steering wheel with rheumy little eyes.

    Constance Fletcher

    Beast (Rot Eater) of Spring & Shade

    Allocating 3 dots to Drive 1 and Streetwise 2

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  5. #3
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    Jordan Riley
    Union Hunter & Shade Shard
    3 dots spent to make PRES 3, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 2


    The dark street only illuminated by the scant streetlights and the more present vehicle headlights, Jordan hadn't expected the face that greeted her.

    'Bitch you ug-ly.' the blond thought, before the completely unenthusiastic voice catching up to her brain. "Uh. Hi. Connie." Jordan shifts her bag on her lap and offers the ugly broad a small wave. The hand drops, meeting her bag. "Yeah...it's a little far out...that's why I wanted a ride." Jordan says slowly, looking at the lady out of the corner of her eye. "And yeah. I'm fine." and what's up with the 'honey'?

    The music fills the awkward silence, "So..." Jordan says after a while, "Been a taxi driver long?"

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  7. #4
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    Connie doesn't turn around as the taxi weaves into the traffic.

    "No. Money is tight. So much for retirement. But I don't mind. Beats the old folks home or being stuck in front of a TV."

    Connie reaches a traffic light, slowing down much to early and crawling into position.

    "What you doing tonight?" The old lady was still staring straight ahead.

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  9. #5
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    "Yeah. Money's tight all around. My Ma passed before she had to think about working again to keep afloat." Dose this Granny have a back brace or something? 'Cause seriously, this...rigidity is just not right. Add on the way she's speaking...yeah. This ugly broad's screaming Not Human to Jordan.

    Not wanting to stab a granny just because she's a little weird. Jordan leaves her knife in her pocket. Once she's sure she's in a car with a monster...then she'll stab a bitch.

    "Uh nothing much, hanging out with some friends. Gotta let off some steam after the shift I just had."

    And if stabbing doesn't less then shit, well fuck her shoulder, she can always tuck and roll.

  10. #6
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    And they were off again!

    Kind of.

    This old lady is not one to drive too fast and has a fondness for slooowing right down when she comes across traffic lights. Or intersections. Or having to merge with traffic. Totally a too polite, or a too timid, driver.

    "What do you work as?"

    The question was heralded by a sigh as a bike flashed past at speed.

  11. #7
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    Fuck this bat was sloooow.

    She might tuck and roll anyway. She'll get to her destination faster if she just walked. Even after she stopped cursing her shoulder she'd probably pop out because of the tucking and rolling.

    Shifting in her seat, she stares at the granny with the garish lipstick, and just stares. Like for a minute or two.

    After those long minutes where bicyclists and pedestrians would pass them, Jordan finally answers.

    "I work as a waitress." Her grease scented polyester uniform could attest to that. "Minimum wage. Whoo." a deadpan. "At least I get tips."

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    At last!

    The shapeless body turns and the old lady takes a look at her passenger - while speeding up and drifting into another lane.

    "That terrible! I had pegged you for a security gal. What with the bag."

    Another sigh and the old bag was concentrating on the road. They sped across the bridge into West Sacramento.

    "It says something about a country where honest working people have to get by on tips. Just terrible."

  13. #9
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    The movement from the granny and the speeding up as the change lanes has Jordan jolting in her seat.

    "Ha. Wish I worked security." Then she'd have a reason to bunch of weapons on her. Or at least a night stick and a taser. "This is just full of cloths, my uniform. And books and stuff." she pats her bag. "The lunch I didn't eat." She'd been tired of ordering the diner's crap food, and ended up working through her brake anyway.

    "More then just terrible. At least I don't have a mountain of debt, student loans, to pay back too. Had to quit school when my Da got sick. Just...never went back." Jordan says with a shrug. "Whatever. If I went back and got a degree, I'd probably still be in a diner working for tips."

  14. #10
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    "That sucks. But good for you being strong."

    The granny was coasting now, using the vehicle's momentum as they whizzed through the streets of West Sacramento. Houses were giving way to industrial lots and vacant spaces.

    "Why don't you go for it? You know, apply for a Security job. Or save up for the training? Hell, all I could do was secretary work. I wasn't keen to do that again. Too old anyhow. At least with this job I get to meet people. All the people."

    The words were perhaps kindly meant. But the delivery... A liquid nasal monotone that grated on the ears.

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