Dirty gold sunlight spilled through the cracks between the window boards, their path through the room clear to see from the sparkling motes of dust hanging in the air. A groan arose from the pile of patched blankets and torn pillows atop several cheep mattresses stacked on the concrete floor.
After another groan a pale head sporting a tangled mess of white hair pokes out of the pile. “Dreck, dusk already?” Ice took a moment to look around the room, the entirety of what she called ‘home’. Her nest of a bed was setup in a corner out of the worst of the drafts, Busted couches sat opposite a scavenged, repaired and horribly outdated trideo unit, not that she bothered with it much, even when she did have electricity, but owning some form of entertainment lead to less questions.
Dragging herself out of the bed Ice checks the schedule and finds she still has enough water ration for a shower, cold of course. Not that this place was legally part of any service, but any system can be subverted. Ice supposed some might be shocked at the idea, but for her, a hot shower was a luxury she has rarely had in her life. There was that time with Overwatch… but they’re gone now, I had to burn that bridge, that and all the others.
She was still shivering as she got back into her room from the communal bathroom. The place was a dive in every sense of the word, officially condemned, but the ‘landlord’ asked no questions so long as they got their payments. Ice didn’t think anyone living here had a SIN of any kind, she wouldn’t be surprised if there where others here like her, deliberately living off the system.
The fading sunlight was gone by the time she was dressed again, the lights of the night sprawl spilling through the cracks now. She looked at her small stash of nutra-paste and processed soy, grimacing as her stomach growled, having not eaten for at least 12 hours. Her fingers idly brush the secure credstick she carries. Hey, I made a deal, I have some extra creds. Why not get a decent meal for a change? She stands in the middle of the room, frowning as she thinks. On one hand a real meal would take a chunk out of her account, on the other, it could be an opportunity to get a line on some info. Yeah, I’ll go get breakfast at the Tube.
A quick look at the local news grid flashed up a pollution warning. Glad I got the respirator. The thought was automatic as she started making preparation to leave. She grabbed her revolver, a Taurus Omni-6 that she’d had modified. It wasn’t the most powerful handgun on the market, but it was easy to conceal and adaptable, both good traits for personal defense. With practiced movements she straps the slide to her right forearm and opens the revolver’s cylinder Gel, Reg, Gel, Reg, Gel, Reg, good. Ammo Skip System isn’t showing any bugs or errors. The cylinder snaps back into place and the pistol is placed in the slide and concealed from view. Next was her armoured duster, again modified to protect against chemicals and stun weapons, as well as a couple of other tricks. Finally she grabbed her respirator and settled it over the lower half of her face before leaving her room and locking it.
As she starts to descend the stairs in the dark she thinks again about investing in a low-light system for her cyber eyes, the stairs are rickety and dangerous at the best of times, let alone when it’s dark and she can’t see. Still, she’s been up and down so many times she knows the steps to avoid, some because of noise, some because they’ll break at any time, a few because they’re simply not there any more.
Out on the street she shrugs the coat into a more comfortable position and starts walking the six blocks to the Vacuum Tube.