TopReputation t1_j8yxkbq wrote

Obligatory Rawhide Kobayashi copypasta

Howdy, my name is Rawhide Kobayashi. I'm a 27 year old Japanese Japamerican (western culture fan for you foreigners). I brand and wrangle cattle on my ranch, and spend my days perfecting the craft and enjoying superior American passtimes. (Barbeque, Rodeo, Fireworks) I train with my branding iron every day, this superior weapon can permanently leave my ranch embled on a cattle's hide because it is white-hot, and is vastly superior to any other method of livestock marking. I earned my branding license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day. I speak English fluently, both Texas and Oklahoma dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about American history and their cowboy code, which I follow 100% When I get my American visa, I am moving to Dallas to work in an oil field to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become a cattle wrangler for the Double Cross Ranch or an oil rig operator for Exxon-Mobil! I own several cowboy hats, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to America, so I can fit in easier. I rebel against my elders and seniors and speak English as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond. Wish me luck in America!


TopReputation t1_j8lsaaf wrote

[2 of 2]

She and her team rappel off the Aerodyne after the ship makes an initial strafing round of gunfire with its gatlings, shattering the floor to ceiling windows in explosions of glass and flying bits of cement. She and her team swing in, her combat helmet's faceplate protecting her from the billowing dust and asbestos of the wrecked office. Dead and dying Corpos crawled on the ground, riddled with bullets. Klaxons rang out.


She moved in with her team, shooting and killing any Security troopers that happened to be on that floor, before kicking down Zeus's office doors while the rest of the team engaged in a firefight.

He stared at her from across his ornate desk of real-wood. Mahogany. Flanked by two Zaibatsu Samurai, chromed and hulking.

"Who the fuck are you?" He barked, more angry than scared at the mess she's made of his little kingdom.

"You seriously don't remember? You piece of shit. Look at them. Fucking look at them as you die." She says, lopping off the heads of Zeus's bodyguards with a single flick of her monowire before shoving the faded photo into his face. "You and your men shot them dead. At least fucking remember that before I give you permission to die."

He looks to his right, then to his left, his men laying in pools of spurting blood. Then back at the photo. Eyes wide with fear. The acrid stench of ammonia wafts through the air as he evacuates, the piss running down his legs. "Ok. Alright. You've made your point. You want money? How much? H-how much you want? Name your price. Hell, I can give you the whole fucking city."

She pistol whips him with her revolver, sending a tooth flying. "I want you to remember them, and what you did."

He spits out some blood, coughs. "F-fuck! You're psycho, lady! I don't know who the fuck these guys are, alright!? C'mon... let me go and I'll set you up for life. I got contacts, hands in every pocket in this fuckin' city. I'll make some calls... you can rule over it all-"


His head rocks back against his leather-backed hair, eyes roll up and show bloodshot whites.

She pulls the trigger a few more times, watching his limp body convulse with each impact, fresh holes oozing crimson in his chest. Fires again at his head, and again, till his face is no more recognizable than synthetic protein paste.


In a rundown motel room out in the desert, she sits on a rickety chair, whiskey bottle on a faux-wood table. She drinks, and she cries, faded photograph laying on the table.

Killing the bastard, after all these years... didn't bring them back. Didn't make her feel any better. Made her feel empty inside, in fact. She'd lived her life fixated on vengeance the past few years.

But it was something that had to be done, and she could finally put this behind her. New bounties awaited, and Davis and the others in her little mercenary outfit of Hunters were waiting for her. She'd leave this dustbowl of a planet for good, and not look back, having severed her last remaining ties to the place, where she once had a family, and where her old self died.



TopReputation t1_j8lrygr wrote

"Whiskey. Neat." She said, slipping onto the dessicated barstool, and tapping the counter twice, fingerless gloves worn with heavy use.

Barman squints at her. Frowns.

"You ain't from around here - could tell the moment you strutted in here. I don't like that." He says, polishing a mug with a glinting metal arm. "Some advice, girl. Core world slickers like you don't last long out here. I suggest you take the next ship home before you get yourself shot." He finishes, side-eying the woman sitting across the bar and spitting onto the ground, before pouring her a shot and sliding it across towards her.

Jane, black Gambler hat - a Stetson - pulled low over her face, downs the shot in one go. Slides over a holo-chit, which unfurls to display Zeus's mug in a blue-tinted hologram. He's balding with patches of red hair, sand-worn, lined, and ruddy skin, bulbous green eyes. And a nasty fuck-off burn scar running down from cheek to jowl across the right of his face. "Looking for him. Seen him?" She says, ignoring the barman's provocations despite him being dead-wrong about her being an offworlder - and getting straight to business.

Barman snorts. "You're shittin' me. Thin little thing like you thinks she's a bounty hunter? Gimme a break, girlie. Just 'cause you dress the part, don't make you a hunter." He grabs the holo-chit, holds up the projected face of Zeus to his face. Face grows pale. "Now hold on here... Yer goin' after that Zeus? Nuh uh. No way. Ain't telling you shit."

She looks up at him, and he gets a good look at her face for the first time since she's wandered into his dingy little saloon on the outskirts of Vamury, the largest developed city and what passes as capitol on a backwater planet as Hedalos Prime, a rocky and dry dustbowl of a planet. She's got chin-length dark hair, piercing, predatory gray eyes, and a sharp thin nose. Mouth's a curt and small slash across her face, currently locked in a snarl. A scar runs across her left eye, which had been replaced with a Kraussman Combat Optic implant, with its tell-tale glow in the iris, and the Kraussman Company name and logo embossed in very fine print on the sclera just around the pupil.

"You know something then you damn well better tell me, Barman. It ain't a request." She says in a low voice. Her optic flashes red as she stares him down, eyes narrowing, her one remaining organic eye exuding a wave of killing intent.

"Listen, I don't know nothin'. Not if it's him." Barman says, putting down the mug and staring back into her eyes defiantly. "You think you're the first hotshot hunter come thru here, looking for Zeus? No girlie. You ain't the first, and you ain't the last. Turn back now, and this time I really mean it. Or you're getting sent back in a fucking bodybag, bet my last credit on it." He spits again.

Quick as lightning Jane draws her revolver from the shoulder holster hidden beneath her sand-coated duster. Points it at the barman's gut. "Wrong answer." She says, words laced with venom. A killer's voice.

Barman starts sweating now, and she can tell from his shifty eyes glancing from the engraved barrel of her revolver and back to her eyes that he's trying to decide whether or not to call her bluff. Grabs a clean rag from a drawer beneath the counter and wipes at his forehead. Shakes his head, sighs. "Fuck me. 'Run a bar out in the boonies,' they said. 'Good money, good living' they said." He mutters, then sets the rag down. Looks to his left and right furtively, before leaning in. "Alright, I can tell you wouldn't think twice about really pulling that trigger - had you pegged wrong, I admit it. But word gets around that I talked? Then it don't much matter whether you shoot me here now or when Zeus and his crooks get me later. So - I need you to give me your word as a Hunter - you didn't hear any of this from me."

"You have my word." She says, lowering the gun but still resting it on the counter. "Talk."

He shakes his head again. "You sure know how to pick 'em... Reckon this bounty's more trouble than he's worth, if you ask me." He mutters.

"Not about the money. Not for this one." She replies with steely eyes.

He blinks at her. "...Right. Well, Zeus is a big-time kingpin. Has Vamury City by the balls. Colonial Administration officials and local sheriffs, even the fucking Corpo-rats, all in his pocket. So, what I'm tryin' to tell you is..." He leans in closer, voice drops to an even smaller breathy whisper. His breath stinks of rum. "You want his head, you'll be dealing with Corporate Special Forces, Col.Admin. Privateers, and the cops. All coming down on your head. He snaps his fingers, and you're gone. Still wanna get him?"

"Keep talking. Where's the son of a bitch holed up?"

He looks at her, incredulous. Licks his chapped lips. Starts to sweat even more now, and not just because the bar's aircon's on the fritz. "You're fucking insane. Alright. Fine. It's your funeral. Just- remember, wasn't me that told you. Last I heard on the ol' scuttlebutt rumor mill, Zeus's living large now, suited up and has his own office in one of them Corporate towers in Vamury City. Think his company's called Olympus Technologies. Playing with his Zeus handle, I guess."

"Olympus Tower, then." She mutters, holstering her gun again and getting off the stool. Dirty boots touch sun-baked asphalt as she steps out of the saloon.

Gets on her hovercycle, a sand-blasted and sleek old thing. Dons her goggles, revs the engine and blasts off away from the outskirts and towards Vamury City downtown, duster fluttering in the wind behind her and throwing a vortex of sand in her wake.

. . .

"Davis. You got my shit ready?" She says, speaking through her holo-phone.

"Uh-huh, yeah. Motherfucking A/V with gatling gun, and a crew of cyborgs tooled up and jumps when you say jump. You want some fuckin' caviar with that too? Maybe the clothes off my back?" He replies.

"Good. Thanks. Call it even now." She mutters back, ignoring his sarcasm.

"You bet your ass we're even now. Killin' me with this shit, Jane. No more favors, alright?"

"Sure. Oh, speaking of favors... MizunoCorp's stopped sending hitsquads after you, huh. Wonder why?"

"Oh for cryin'- you gonna hold that over my head forever? Fuuuuck. I get it, okay? Mi casa, tu casa, just fuck my shit up."

"I'm kidding, Davis." She says, chuckling softly before hanging up on her Fixer.

Crew assembled, getaway vehicle and heavy artillery ready. Time for the main event.

. . .

. . .

Aerodyne rumbles along the night-time sky, choked with neon and light pollution. Grim-faced men and women, augged to the gills in chrome and tooled up with an arsenal of guns sat in the back. Airship was rattling as it passed through clouds, turbulence. Shaking and rattling teeth and titanium bones.

Jane sprung out the cylinder of her revolver, checked it was loaded and gave it a spin before clicking it back into place. Rubs at her right arm, checking her monofilament. Monowire burning at over a 1000 degrees, capable of whipping out and slicing up fully armored borgs into cauterized bits of sashimi.

She looks to her men. "You know the plan. From the top - A/V flies in and we storm the floor where Zeus's parked. Want him alive - nobody, and I mean nobody, kills him but me. We drag him back into the aerodyne, fly out. Fast in, fast out. Do not get protracted firefight. We will leave you behind if you're not back on the aerodyne by 5 minutes past landing. Clear!?"

A chorus of "Clear!" rings out from the group. But one of the guys speaks up.

"This a personal thing, Calamity?" A man going by 'Crow' as his handle asked Jane, using the Handle she gave him. "This feels like a personal thing."

"None of your biz. Just do what I paid you for." Jane mutters, glaring daggers at him.

"Creds ain't good if none of us are left to collect." He says quietly. Then shrugs, and goes back to cleaning his rifle. "...Just don't get too distracted, s'all I'm saying."


Aerodyne activates stealth mode and banks towards Olympus Tower, a black-glass brutalist eyesore piercing the heavens, and with Zeus at the very top of it all, presiding over the City and fancying himself its God.

Jane, cigarette dangling out the corner of her mouth, pulls out a faded photograph, time-worn, and stares at it silently, as the aerodyne makes its approach. In the photo, her late husband, and late son. Grits her teeth. Wipes at her eyes. Then stuffs the photo back in her duster pocket, filled with a fresh resolve.

Stands and moves toward the door of the aerodyne, which was unfurling upwards and letting in deafening gusts of wind and the whirr of the A/V's engines. She avoided looking down, no sense in getting vertigo. "This is it. Go, go, go. And remember. 5 minutes, and we leave with or without you. Move it!"

[1 of 2, character limit reached -_-]


TopReputation t1_j2ae7e4 wrote

Nearly ten years after high school graduation a guy, thinking about the what ifs in his life, goes fuck it and messages his high school crush on FB messenger to ask her out and confess he liked her back then. The problem is they have not talked since senior year of high school and even back in school they didn't really interact much on account of the guy's shyness even though the girl obviously liked him and said hi to him and tried to engage him in conversation.

Tl;Dr : dude msg his hs crush ten years later out of the blue and asks her out


TopReputation t1_j17hdhq wrote

"You stupid boy. How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through your thick mortal skull? Twice a day, with water. And make sure to eat, for God's sake. Can't believe I have to remind you to literally eat!"

I shifted from my glass-eyed stupor and lifted my eyes from the television to meet her intense gaze. "...Oh, you're here."

She tousled my hair. "What's the matter with you?" She glared at me with fiery red pupils, and the unnatural alabaster pallor of her skin made her face and arms glow in the dimly lit apartment where I laid sprawled out on my couch. "Come on... eat. I made your favorite. Fish and chips, home-made tartar sauce. Spent the better of my evening on this so you damn well better enjoy it." She stroked her raven hair out of her eyes and shoved the tray of fried food towards me. It dangled dangerously on the edge of the coffee table and, though I was dead tired, I forced myself to swing myself upright and catch it before it toppled to the ground.

Because as much as I hated to admit it, I've started to appreciate these home intrusions of hers lately. What was once a horrifying break-in has become a welcome visit from a friend. We've got a weird arrangement going, and it's been so long I've forgotten how it was set up in the first place, but the deal is she comes to my place, cooks me dinner, tidies up the place and generally checks up on me, and in return I let her feed on me without resisting (not like I could put up much of a fight against someone like her in the first place).

I tentatively dipped one of the fish sticks into the sauce and took a bite. "It's good." I told her, and a small smile emerged from my almost as pale face.

Delia momentarily flushed purplish crimson in the cheeks before turning away and letting out a "Hmph! Of course it's good. I made it."

I chuckled. It was honestly cute how a century old vampiress such as her got so flustered so easily. But I was always a sucker for a good tsundere. "So, you're early tonight. Extra thirsty, or what? Or did you just miss me?"

She twirled a strand of hair in her finger, forming rings, fidgeted a bit with her worn leather duster. "M-miss you? Don't get so full of yourself, boy. You had it right the first time. I've had a rough week, and am in need of nourishment. And that's why I need you at your best and ready for a feeding."

I put down the tray and looked at her in the eyes. "Rough week? Was it the Hunters again? Are you alright?"

She blushed that blush of hers again before regaining her composure. "Y- what do you care? It's my business."

"Delia, we've known each other for what... 6 months now? I can't help but care about you now, even if you see me as nothing more than a bloodmeal. Go ahead and vent. I'm here, and I want to help."

She blinked. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion for a split second, gazing into mine until she was satisfied. Having seen I was genuine, she blushed slightly once more before settling down next to me on the couch. Her old leather duster smelled of iron. Old dried blood. She unlaced her equally as dark boots and took them off to get comfortable.

"Glad you're finally letting your hair down." I muttered.

In all of 6 months, this was the first time she'd settled down on the couch with me like this. Usually she'd just feed me, make me take some pills, suck a liter out my neck, and piss off while I lay in a heap on the ground, drained.

"Don't get used to it. But you're right. I need to talk about this with someone."

"I'm all ears."

"The Order's been on my trail. Sent some of their Hunters after me, the crazed lunatics. One of them tracked me down. Attacked me in broad daylight! These people, they don't care who gets caught in the cross-fire as long as a vampire gets dead. They're sick."

"Wait, I thought vampires get fried by sunlight?"

"Not all do, boy. My lineage is resistant to sunlight. 'Daywalkers,' the Order calls us. And its my kin that the Order hates the most."

As she spoke I noticed some white gauze peeking out the top of her gray button-up that she wore beneath her leather duster.

She traced my gaze and quickly pulled her duster together and buttoned up. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"You're hurt. You need somewhere to stay? Someone to keep a lookout for you? You can crash with me if you'd like. I mean, I'm not much good in a fight, but I can at least keep a lookout so you can rest well..." I've worked myself into an anemic shell. Long hours at the office, a slave to the megacorporate machine. If not for Delia, I'd probably have wasted away a long time ago, dead in my dingy little apartment on the 32nd floor, in a giant neon city with millions around me that would not be aware I was gone until I'd started to stink up the place.

Worse still, I was not modded up in any way. It was the 22nd century and I still had not gotten any chrome. Guess I was scared it'd change me. This had always put me at a disadvantage. At work and in my personal life. But it was this "purity" of body that drew Delia to me, so I suppose it all worked out in the end. 'Not much natural blood left nowadays' was what she'd told me when we first met.

She looked confused. "You want me, your tormentor, your bloodsucking leech, a monster... to stay here with you? Everything all okay up there, boy?" She rapped her knuckles lightly atop my skull.

"I've already told you just now that I've come to care for you. You're not a monster. You're my dear friend, and to be honest I've come to depend on you and your visits. It's not an exaggeration to say that it's one of the things that's keeping me going day after day working 12 hour shifts and all. So yes. Stay here if you'd like. I'll protect you, come what may."

"Stupid boy... silly, silly boy..." She wiped at something on the corner of her eyes. "I never wanted to do this to you, boy. But a Vampiress has to eat..."

"Delia... I'm in my late 20s. A grown man. Call me Lewis."

Her pale thin lips curled upwards. "Do you know how old I am, boy?"

"25." I said, joking with a straight face.

She took the bait and had a good chuckle at that. "No, boy. I am over a century years old. I was turned at a time when Man had not yet altered themselves en masse with cybernetics and nano-serum replacements... When the world's oceans had not yet engulfed entire cities and nations, and when red meat and drinking water was not yet rationed. I was here decades before you were born, Boy. So you'll forgive me if I cannot see you as anything but as a wet-behind-the-ears whelp."

"Well I don't want that."

You see, as much as I hated it, there's another feeling that's been twisting and knotting itself in my heart the past few months. And I've finally come to accept it.

"What do you mean 'I don't want that'?" She asked, head tilted.

"That is to say, well, I care about you, as more than friends. So..." I cleared my throat. "So call me Lewis, not 'Boy.' And let me take you out for some coffee this weekend. I'll ask my boss to not have to come in this Saturday."

She blinked, twice. Then blushed a deep purplish pink. "B-boy. Erm, Lewis. What? What are you saying?"

"I like you. I'm asking you out on a date. I'm pretty sure the concept of dating was around 100 years ago." I said, bluntly.

"W-well, yeah but... Bo- Lewis, I'm a vampire. I literally feed off you. Drain your life force and leave you a pale withered husk every time I come by. What on Earth could possess you to want to pursue a relationship with me?"

"Ok sure, getting my neck bit and sucked through like an ICEE slurpie isn't great but you're also a great cook, you come by and spend time with me nearly every week, and you listen to me vent and take care of me even when I'm being a pathetic little shit that can't even eat properly and just vegs out in front of the TV. You're someone special to me, Delia. And I won't lie to myself about that any longer. All my cards are on the table. Ball's in your court." I turned to face her and looked her in the eyes. Sunken eyes surrounded by dark rings met fiery red pupils.

"OK. Ok. Fine. Let's try it. Emil's Cafe, 12 PM, Saturday. Meet you there." She said, making a show out of looking resigned and giving in, but all the while her little grin gave her away. Contemporary vampiress wisdom dictates that you do not fraternize with the food. But hell, she'd started to develop feelings for this silly man as well, and his confession just now pushed her over the edge of self-control. She'd indulge in this mortal feeling, rekindled after a hundred years of dormancy.


I let her have the couch, while I stood watch, my eyes glued to the peephole looking into the hallway of my little flat. Occasionally, I'd walk over to the window and look down to the ground and scan for anything that looked suspicious, as well as scanning the horizon for airships that bore the Order's insignia.

A few hours passed and I was starting to let myself doze off when I spotted it. A shuttle with the Order's insignia, a stake punctured through a skull with fangs' eyesocket, floated down and landed on the ground just in front of the lobby. From my view up on the 32nd floor, the men were no bigger than dots piling out of the airship. A whole unit, about 6 men. I squinted. Looked like they were decked out in the latest armor and guns. Likely chromed up all over as well.

"Ah fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. Delia!! Delia, wake up! They're here." Still woozy from being fed on, I leaped to where Delia was laying with her arms crossed over her chest, and shook her.

Took a good minute before her eyes opened and she turned upright in a 90 degree angle, eyes flitting around and slowly adjusting back to the world of the semi-living. Guess it takes a bit for her to wake after a meal

"Damn! I thought I'd covered my tracks. You're sure it's them?"

"See for yourself."

She took a look through the window and hissed through her teeth.

Looks like we're in for a fight...

[hit character limit. if interested, I'll write more]


TopReputation t1_iy65ax1 wrote

Bounty hunters and the Law finally catches up to a desperado outlaw on the run and his ride-or-die girlfriend who is actually the real Deadeye crackshot in the relationship while he's the silver tongued smooth talking con artist.

The pair had been rolling through frontier towns scamming folk in rigged card games and other schemes, and gunning down those who came after them for years. Now their time is up.


TopReputation t1_ixu2ae4 wrote

Down on their luck soldiers for hire willingly "rent" out their meat-space bodies for credits by the hour. During this time, their body is controlled by a (to be named) Megacorp AI/software.

Our MC (main character) is an elite street samurai/mercenary/ Corporate Soldier-for-hire that "wakes up" mid-op, the AI software having been booted out by a rival Razorgirl with a knack for netrunning. She sees what's happened and decides to spare his life.

Now MC is left holding the bag, in the middle of a Corporate warzone with soldiers and agents gunning for him and with his figurative pants down at his ankles feeling lost as shit.

Themes: Playing with the idea of memory and identity a la Total Recall, with similar tropes of someone that's deep in an operation but has suddenly loss all his memory of who he is and of the operation (except this time it's because the AI personality chip got booted out mid-op). Other themes: Exploring the idea of if someone can be held accountable or guilty of a crime if they weren't fully in possession of their body at the time of the crime


TopReputation t1_itlyndq wrote

Holton Graves, an outlaw turned bounty hunter. Has a troubled past, and is now trying to do right (after that pivotal life moment which you'll write hopefully! :) ). Seeks redemption, and for self-forgiveness. Drinks whiskey and smokes. Cowboy in the wild west, or a cyberpunk future space cowboy/bounty hunter, up to you. Personality: rough and brusque on the outside but is actually kind and considerate underneath it all. Prefers to show through his actions rather than superfluous words.