>>5194628>>5194676>>5195202>>5195422>INVESTIGATE THE ARENA WAITING ROOMS.You wandered around the FIGHTING PITS for a while until you found the WAITING ROOMS for the UPCOMING COMBATANTS. During your WANDERING, your meatman purchased a NOVELTY HAT and BUCKET OF POPCORN; you were slightly more SINGLE-MINDED in your pursuit of the BIOHACKER, though you couldn’t deny the humor of the NOVELTY HAT.
The WAITING ROOMS also happened to be where all of the BUREAUCRACY was done, you ran into FNORD THE ILLEGIBLE collecting his winnings from the previous bout. He tipped his CONICAL HAT as he passed, stroking his LONG, GRAYING BEARD. Through the windows along the edge of the CHROME and CONCRETE room, you could see the MOUNTAIN of bodies that filled the primary fighting pit.
GOBLET LORD GOBLETHEAD could still be heard introducing the upcoming fighters; however you weren’t particularly up-to-date on your DIVINE BEING SPEECH, so his shouting meant little to you.
While your MEATMAN happily chewed through his POPCORN, you elbowed through crowds of SPORT FIGHTERS. Some were ODD MUTANTS, others had GRAFTED CHROME IMPLANTS; Fnord was speaking to what you could only assume was another WIZARD, combing through an OVERSIZED SPELL TOME. At the end of a long line of fighters (that had you assumed was for some kind of REGISTRATION) was a BIOHACKER; presumably the one you were LOOKING FOR.
She was some kind of FISH WOMAN; her GILLS twitching and flaring to take in the scent of BLOOD SPORT that seeped in through cracks in the walls. Her TWELVE FINGERS were deep in her BIODECK, massaging the SENSORY RECEPTORS; two VEIN-WIRES extended from the biodeck into a fighter sitting in a chair adjacent to her.
“How about now?” she said to the fighter, who disappointedly shook his head. She dug her fingers deeper into the biodeck’s flesh. “How about now?” she repeated. This continued for SEVERAL ITERATIONS, before the FIGHTER nodded and handed her a freshly-minted GILDED GREG. “Just a problem with the cheap bio-implants, should be better now.”
She turned her gaze to you, as you had managed to FIGHT YOUR WAY to the front of the line. “What’s up?” she asked you, carefully inspecting you and your COMPANIONS as she retracted the VEIN-WIRES back into her BIODECK. “Faulty bioware? Disease? Psychal ennui? Looks like your meatman has a bit of a twitch, want me to see if I can fix him for you?”
>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.>WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH SIGNING UP TO FIGHT AROUND HERE.>SURE, FIX MY MEATMAN.>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN? 