Metropolis: Gray city
 

The street lights passed quickly. A red hoverbike weaved through traffic in the busy main drag of the under city. The road was once the main swere of a mighty city now it was a street. Spark's control of his bike was almost supernatural. Indie rock blaring in his earphones. His engine was reving high, he'd need to do a diagnostic when he got into the shop tommorrow. He banked suicidially into a side street then cut infront of oncoming traffic, then turned sideways and slowed to a stop. he stopped perfectly in a bike space infront of the aluminum twentieth century looking diner. a neon sign read The underground cafe

Spark locked down his bike. and activated his security system. He took off his bike helmet and put his goggles on his forehead.

The cyborg then walked into the cafe and ordered a pint.

"Hey, Spark. How's it going?" Chris went over by Spark. He didn't order anything, though, his budget had been slim lately. Tired from just finishing an odd job, his client had been unreliable and hadn't given him his pay. It was times like these where his personality came in handy.

"I'm not buying you a drink." Spark said matter of factly. He turned resting his cybernetic arm on the bar. He stood contropasto, looking at chris. "Frankly you aren't my type." he said serious then he smiled. it was an infectous smile. He snickered a bit.

Bob walked in like he was very dizzy. He walked up to a barstool next to spark and, with a loud groan, his head slammed against the bar. "I hate the jobs where I can't sleep," he said groggily. He hadn't slept in a couple of days and it was obvious.

"I keep telling you guys to come work for Uncle Leo. He can use more mechanics, and I could use more nights off."

(ooc: Good night y'all keep the posting with in reason or you will face my squirrelly wrath.)

"I know, I know. I just can't seem too get those watchamacallits and the thingamabobs to stick together. And I didn't ask for a drink. I don't need people's sympathy. In my opinion, I'm living pretty well off compared to some people I've seen." Chris remembered seeing those people, living in labour since childhood. He shuddered.

Soup walked in, hearing Spark and Chris talking. He walked up to them, chuckling. "You say you need more mechanics when you have me around? That's almost unheard of!" He snickered a bit. "Good to see you, Chris. How about a round on me?" He didn't wait for a response as he signaled the bartender.

Elektra saw Soup's signal and brought over a picher of beer. "So Spark, your engine sounded kinda grainy out there. Mabe you should have Soup look at it. Wouldn't want you to lose the next race to me on account of faulty equipment." She smiled and bared her fangs as she began mixing a martini for a guy in the corner.

*the sound of brakes and angry yells are heard outside as the distinctive sound of a hover bike's engine being put into high gear then suddenly silenced is heard then the familiar smooth but slightly raspy voice is heard* Yeah well your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of cheap whiskey... *Requiem steps through the doors a grin plastered on his face and then a balled up newspaper smacks him in the back of the head. He quickly turns around and grabs a stone and throws it a figure running away.* Blasted sore losers... it's like losing a hundred credits is all that bad... *grins and moves up to a bar stool and hops over it to sit down gently next to Spark* How you doing young one? *the grin he has plastered on his face never seems to leave well how can you when you just won a hundred credits* Hey Elektra give everyone here a round on me... *lays down the creds on the counter* I just managed to reel in a sucker *his lavender eyes twinkling softly* He should have known better then to race the unbeatable Requiem... *he glances at Spark* well make that night unbeatable... *turns to face Chris, Soup, and Bob* So what you guys been up to?

Meanwhile, on another bike that Requiem had very nearly missed, Gary "Shock" (named for his hair) Harvard swore. The engines had cut out again. <why do machines hate me?> he wondered as he hotwired the bike on again (the thum-scan ignition had been the first thing to go). It had been a hard day. Stupid Surface-Walker's and their stupid stupidity. He was usually hired to make sure that they stayed alive. Those who tried to give charaty in under city... for all their large hearts they had really small brains. Shock sighed and managed to cruise the bike into park before the engine cut out again. He'd get Spark to fix it later.