<div class="floatleft">(http://i952.photobucket.com/albums/ae5/Warden_Ice/Cyberpunk1_zps5f1699a9.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Camille Jessica Ivery<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Nondescript Butcher Shop | 47 Denverton Drive<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Riley Barrington (NPC)<br/><strong>Doing:</strong>Sitting on a Stakeout | Meeting a Fixer<br/><strong>Warning:</strong>Explicit Language<br/><hr/><br/>Someone once said that the best place to hide was in plain sight.  This person must have been unassuming and forgettable.  For someone like Camille, there was none of that.  She arguably had the most distinctive appearance in the entire police force and stood out like a sore thumb in a crowd.  Sporting a vibrantly colored light purple mohawk and with all the right features to classify herself as a cyborg, it was no wonder.  However, there were ways to pull off the prospect given the necessary tools.  Tonight required such a way to pull it off. . .  The small parking lot on the side of an old-style butcher shop had a few of it's spaces filled with various vehicles, all parked away from each other and all positioned as if they had parked in reverse allowing a quick getaway if need be.  One in particular (http://hqdesktop.net/wallpapers/m/82/auto_cars_dodge_caliber_m81523.jpg) had parked closest to the exit with the motor silently humming as it's driver sat in place unseen thanks to the dark tint of it's windows.  From within, the only sound to break over the music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o22fi65e-6I) that faintly emitted from it's speakers was the distinctive inhale.<br/><br/>Camille questioned why she smoked because she could never feel its affects again.  She hasn't felt it since she woke up to find herself as this cross-breed of machine and organic.  Maybe it was of old habit or a way to cling to the woman she once was.  Best to abandon the thought and refocus on your priorities.  With this in mind, she adjusted in the driver's seat of the vehicle and watched the door to the butcher shop like a hawk once more.  The left eye's iris rotated and the pupil constricted to give her a telescopic vision of the object.  Her partner,  Riley Barrington (http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/1a/be/48/1abe48e70fe1369f8a28f71304663c78.jpg), was inside dealing with some business.  Riley was one of those guys who used to be an ex-convict just like her but didn't have any augmentations about him.  One of the few all-natural individuals she knew personally and one of the most cutthroat operatives on their division.  The guy's silver tongue was just as sharp as his accuracy with a firearm.  That distinctive appearance of hers is the very reason she wasn't inside with him.<br/><br/>Suddenly, a man was thrown through the large, labeled glass panel next to the door to land in a heap on the sidewalk in front of the butcher shop.  He sported an apron with blood stains, clearly identifying him as the owner of the establishment.  Camille jumped at the abrupt display of violence, causing her iris to rotate once more and her pupil to dilate.  Wasting no time, she took that as a cue to get in motion and opened the door.  By the time she put a single foot down she noticed her partner stepping out in pursuit to grab the man by the collar of his shirt and lift him to his feet without any complications.  When he noticed his partner vacating the vehicle he gave her a wave off with his hand to placate her intentions.  Confident that he had this, she settled back in with a mildly exasperated sigh.  What a boring waste of time, she thought.<br/><br/>Riley stood at 6'3 and weighed nearly three hundred pounds.  He used to be a bouncer at one of the Russian's night-clubs before people found out it had been a front for their organized crime.  After serving his time, he came out and did the same as Camille: trying to atone for his mistakes by joining the police force.  He was intimidating, made of nothing but testosterone and muscle mass but he had the mind of a criminal and knew how to exploit it.  She watched on as Riley exchanged a few more words with the butcher before giving him an elbow to the temple and knocked him out cold.  Riley straightened his jacket and tie while glancing around and then calmly made his way back to the vehicle to get in the passenger seat.  Camille drove off and turned around the corner before activating the auto-driving feature.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>"So, he know where the Fixer was?"</strong></span>she asked while reaching for the central console on the dashboard where their database node was located.<br/><br/><em>"Yeah.  We're looking for this guy.  Said his name was Dean Coleman.  I'd bet my mother's apple pie it's an alias,"</em>he replied, opening the glove compartment to pull out a silver flask he quickly took a pull of its contents with.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>"Alright,"</strong></span>she muttered, typing in the name onto the console to pull up information they had on him.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>"Says here he's been involved with several cases with the Avdonins... never found guilty of anything though.  Might change now, where can we find him?"</strong></span><br/><br/><em>"We don't.  He finds us.  The butcher's arrangin' us a little meetin' at some cafe on 47 Denverton Drive."</em><br/><br/>Camille closed out the file acquisition upon their node and gripped the wheel of the vehicle again to assume control.  She took a moment to weigh in the entire situation they got involved in.  This Fixer was the only real lead they had into figuring out where the Avdonin's, a Russian gang under speculation of being involved with all manner of illicit activity, got their information.  Earlier that week, one of their precincts had been hit up by what might as well be a SWAT team.  They somehow got inside, shot up a few cops, and made off with a bulk of the collective of narcotics.  That was their department too.  Now they were meeting the guy in some cafe based on some source they had to beat it out off.<br/><br/><em>"Before you even ask, no I don't trust the guy's intel.  It's at least worth a shot though.  'Sides, what else we got?"</em>Riley insisted before taking a larger pull of his flask, making a twisted expression when it went down.<em>"Ugh, what the fuck is in this shit?  You said it was good, you bitch!"</em>He added, casting his gaze to Camille.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>"Don't get pissy with me.  I ain't got taste buds anymore so don't act surprised, dumbass!"</strong></span><br/><br/><div align="center">~~~***~~~</div><br/>Their vehicle pulled into a parallel parking space across the street from the cafe the next day and both stepped out, this time with Riley driving.  He had dressed in a simple pair of dark denim jeans and a black shirt that hugged his bulking physique in all the right ways.  Camille used to bat an eye but she's been elbow deep in proverbial bullshit with him for over the last nine months.  She threw on a pair of black hot pants with the words 'Kiss my Ass' in French on the left side of the hip in small yellow font and a white muscle-shirt.  They had clearly dressed casually for this meet-up and Camille was feeling quite liberal.  The synthetic flesh she decided to show - which was a lot - was littered in ink and her anatomy was broken off into segments with a third-of-an-inch separation between them.  Joining her rather risque and punk-like appearance were the abundance of body piercings on her face.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>"This the place, Riley?"</strong></span>she asked, running a hand through her hair as she followed him across the street.<br/><br/><em>"You doubtin' me or the GPS system, Cammy?"</em>he replied, purposefully using her despised petname.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>"Use that name again and we'll see just how big of an asshole you really are."</strong></span><br/><br/><em>"Oh yeah?  That an invitation?"</em><br/><br/>Riley opened the door for her and she stepped past him with a roll of her dark brown eyes, purposefully putting a finger to his forehead to push and shove his head back.  He chuckled and gave her a swat on the rear when he tailed after her, making her emit a surprised sound and temporarily go up on her toes.  She turned and slapped at his chest while he surveyed the area to find their 'buddy' to meet.  She did the same after the slap with her eye's iris rotating to and fro to pull up dossier's on the various people she saw.