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Cinja impatiently drums his fingers on the bar top, waiting for his bourbon. Ratz nods, grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the shelf. Cinja shows signs of anxiety as he waits, thinking about the job he needs to complete tonight. Ratz, a gruff figure with a robotic arm, wears a Russian military prosthetic arm. The bar is dimly lit with red lightbulbs and loud electronic music plays. A drunk man sleeps in a pool of drool nearby. Cinja, a tall man with a patchy trench coat and a ponytail, looks on.
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Cinja places a quarter on the bar top, waiting for Ratz to return with his drink. He admires the sleek Ono Sendai Cyberspace 7 cyberdeck, with its black exterior and bright green and red LEDs. The terry sweatband with dermatrodes catches his attention, allowing him to jack directly into cyberspace.
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Cinja approaches Ratz, a gruff bartender with a robotic arm, and politely orders a bourbon. Ratz, with his shaven head, squinty brown eyes, and wrinkled face, greets everyone as "Herr." He wears a Russian military prosthetic arm that jerks monotonously as he works. Nearby, a drunk man sleeps in a pool of his own drool. The dimly lit bar is dominated by a long wooden bar and illuminated by red lightbulbs. Loud electronic music plays in the background.
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Cinja, a tall man with a ponytail and shaved sides, presses the hookswitch on a classic rotary dial payphone in a phone booth with a folding glass door. A quarter sits in the coin return, and a cult of the dead cow sticker is stuck on the outside of the glass door. Cinja dials 911, but there is no response on the other end of the line. The city lights reflect off low clouds overhead, and thumping baselines echo from nearby nightclubs. The falafel guy stands nearby, selling his delicious food.
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Cinja picks up a quarter from the payphone and notices a cult of the dead cow sticker on the phone booth's glass door. The sticker features a cow skull with a mohawk and the words "Cult of the Dead Cow - Hacktivismo since 1984". The scene is dark and damp, with thumping baselines echoing from nearby nightclubs. A mustached falafel guy stands next to a food cart.
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Cinja notices the classic rotary dial payphone in the phone booth with a folding glass door. There is a cult of the dead cow sticker stuck on the outside of the glass door, and there seems to be a mysterious dataport that shouldn't be on a phone this old. Also, Cinja sees that there is a quarter in the coin return.
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Veeyawn, in his silver cloak, surveys the area. He sees the damp nightclubs and hears thumping baselines. Nearby, a classic rotary dial payphone sits in a phone booth with a folding glass door. A man with a mustache sells delicious falafel from a small food cart.
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Kappa, the ramen cook with a bowl on his head, nods at Zeb and asks about his plans for the night. Zeb, a bearded man with a spikey mohawk, looks back at Kappa with interest. The tiny ramen restaurant has a red and white mural of the sunrise painted on the wall and smells amazing. Wrewdison, a tall fit man with a beard and slightly messy hair, sits at the end of the bar.
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Thraeryn stands before the large machine, its glowing crystal pulsing with energy. With the help of Mr. Whiskers, he discovers its purpose: to create a portal to other worlds. He activates the machine, and a vortex swirls into existence. Thraeryn steps closer, eager to explore. The missing pieces he found in the nearby cave are safely tucked away in his pack. A cave axolotyl with frilly gills gives off a faint green glow nearby.
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Mr Whiskers steps into the portal to Hell, his fascination driving him forward. The heat is intense, the air writhing with burning tendrils. He screams as he is consumed by the abyss. Zeb arrives to find only the pulsing rift, still reaching impossibly deep. The black goat bleats in the background, and a minidisc lies nearby.