Oblivion wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. There were perks, like not remembering embarassing childhood mistakes. Like not remembering your true name, back before you had your SIN wiped away. Like not knowing that a life besides running even exists.<br/><br/>Kizzie embraced that oblivion in her way. She couldn't even remember past the last three years and it wasn't really all that bad -- she knew what she was good at. She had left her family, so she must not have cared much for them... not leaving anything behind. She was a runner now, on the streets of Seattle, working from job to job and getting better with each run. Honing the skills behind her natural talent.<br/><br/>Now, she flicked on the screen to her commlink, checking out a pirated (and slightly faulty) mapsoft of the area, taken from a quick link when she did a search on the Tech Pit. Her fixer had set her up with a job here, given her the specs on where she was supposed to sit and everything. Some special job. Whatever.<br/><br/>The elf slithered into the club and didn't much stand out -- amidst the undulating citypunks and the pounding music (causing even Kizzie to nod her head to the beat), her dark makeup and black clothes made her at one with the other infinite flavors of goth the Sprawl had managed to cough up. Her softweave "armor vest" was easily concealed as a stylish, yet flexible stretch-corset and only the closest observer would ever know that the vest may one day save her from a bullet, as it had in the past.<br/><br/>When she finally reached the table, Kizzie closed the mental display on her commlink and activated a sound dampening soft to keep the noise out of her ears, at least for long enough to see what was going to be needed of her, and meet the rest of the team. Quick glance showed her a lot of elves and even more girls. An unexpected, though not unwanted, development. "Hey," she said, her husky voice flat of much emotion. Attachments could come after the run.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>