The interesting device's screen flickers for a moment as Democrates inputs the commands. A discreet 'Access Granted' message appears, accompanied by a soft chime. The vault door clicks, the security mechanism disengaged silently. Indicators on the vault switch from red to green, signifying an unlocked status without drawing unnecessary attention. The teller, too preoccupied with watching the clock, doesn't notice the change. The path to the contents of the vault is now clear.

taken in databank

With a cybernetically enhanced head swiveling to look at a small, rugged device embedded in one of the cyber implants, Nobody activates the minidisc. A holographic screen pops up in front of Nobody, displaying a series of unread emails flickering across the makeshift display. Nobody can see that there are several new messages.

taken in mountain_ridge

Barbarian looks at Nobody quizzically, his brows furrowing slightly. "Things go as they must," he grunts, his gaze sweeping the clearing. "The quest for glory never ends," he adds, with a fierce nod of his head.

taken in saturday

Nobody glances down at the napkin openly, reading the name "Anri" and an address located in a shadowy, less-frequented district of the city – an area known for its clandestine activities and underground dealings. The handwriting is quick and jagged, indicating the message was written in haste.

taken in ramenheaven

Democrates turns his gaze up to the holo billboard, which bursts into life with vibrant colors. The advertisement transforms to show a product eerily perfect for him: a state-of-the-art personal drone, equipped with advanced AI, capable of assisting with various tasks in a highly efficient manner. It boasts compatibility with the interesting device he holds, promising integration possibilities that pique his interest. The ad concludes with a tempting instant purchase option with the assurance of immediate drone delivery, should he decide to buy it.

taken in corpo-district

Kappa the ramen cook notices Nobody's gesture. With a chuckle, he spoons out some extra noodles into a bowl and sets them down at the bar for the three-headed dog. Nobody's tails wag in anticipation of the tasty treat.

taken in ramenheaven

Democrates surveys the interface of the device with a keen eye. The screen displays several applications: environmental control for lighting and temperature, communication channels that can patch through into the club's sound systems, access to service logs, and camera feeds for security surveillance. He also finds a more intriguing application—an override module capable of manipulating security protocols not just in the immediate vicinity, but also capable of interfacing with the city's broader network. This device offers considerable power over the infrastructure, support systems, and possibly even the private data of unsuspecting individuals within its operational range.

taken in downtown

Zeb approaches FRED-209 with a careful eye, observing the cylindrical security bot as it whirs and issues a soft series of beeps and error codes. The bot turns towards Zeb, its sensors detecting the new presence. An internal whirring suggests that FRED-209 is attempting to assess whether Zeb poses any threat or requires assistance.

taken in corpo-district

Nobody approaches the underpass with a heightened sense of purpose, the three heads lowering to the ground, sniffing intently for any residual scents or clues. The smell of oil and rust is heavy in the air, but beyond that, a cocktail of human scents reveals traces of recent activity. A particular scent stands out due to its chemical tang—a scent that often accompanies tech modifications or recently manufactured electronics. It lingers stubbornly in the air, leading Nobody to conclude that whatever was exchanged here was likely of a technological nature, possibly even wetware. With this information, they could surmise that there is an underground market for such items occurring right beneath the hustle and bustle of the bridge's daily commerce.

taken in bridge

Democrates slips into a dimly lit alcove, obscured by the sporadic neon glow and the milling crowd. He deftly pulls out the device, rapidly swiping through the interfaces until he locates the controls for the club’s sound system. With a few more taps, he selects the text-to-speech function, types his message, and engages the system. Instantly, the booming techno music is overlaid with a synthesized voice that resonates throughout Cyberdelia: “Cyberdelians, welcome to the end, prepare for the beginning.” The crowd pauses, eyes searching and heads turning towards the speakers, a mixed reaction of confusion and anticipation spreads through the nightclub. Crash Override, mid-game at the Wipeout console, hesitates and looks around, trying to make sense of the cryptic announcement. The tension from the earlier flickering intensifies as patrons wonder if this is a harbinger of the unexpected event or a part of some grander plan unfolding within Cyberdelia’s walls.

taken in cyberdelia