[The Boardwalk, Jacksonville, CAS. April 12th, 10:09pm 2076]
@Saithor
Snake lives in a garage apt behind the converted beach-house he uses as the retail space for his shop. It's a tiny little place that the giant of a man looks like he barely squeezes into. You knocked on the door to the shop for a minute, then eventually to the door to the garage on the ground floor. Eventually, you became irritated and headed up the warped and rickety wooden stairs to the door on the second floor. After you'd made the fist, but before you managed a knock, you heard his gruff voice from inside. "Come on in, Lizzy!"
After letting yourself in the flimsy wooden door and shaking hands with your old friend, he lights up a cigar and pours two shots of synth-whiskey, offering you one with a smirk through the cigar smoke. He sits down in a giant love seat, filling both cushions and motions for you to do the same on a long thin couch. He raises his glass to you, downs it, and says. "So... Twiss?"
@Everyone else
Parking would have been rough if you'd come in a car. You barely managed to find motorcycle parking and even that was about two miles up the beach from where you need to be. The walk was relaxing though. A straight walk north up 3rd street in the midst of a "car-party" much like the one on the bridge, only far more severe, has almost been fun. Every drunken party dude and chick from every income level is out here strutting their stuff and the cacophony of sound is simply mind-blowing. There are several bars and clubs you could pay to go inside, but the party out here seems so intense you really can't see the need to.
Security is everywhere. There are two riot armored KE cops in every single corner big enough to have a stop sign as well as half the ones that aren't. You see the occasional scuffle break out between a couple drunks here and there, but the boys in black keep a tight reign on things, and nothing gets any more out of hand than that.
It's only taken you about fifteen minutes to walk the short distance north, then east a couple blocks to the boardwalk, and you find yourself at the entrance to the "BEACHFRONT ARCADE". The name is both painted in red letters on the outside as well as lit up brightly in an ARO. The place is packed. About half the games in here are modern VR games equipped with trodes, while the other half of the place is split between old-school "joystick and button" games and even older school "manual games". They've got air hockey, bumper pool, whack-a-mole, pinball, and yes, ski-ball. Of the three lanes available, only one is currently occupied, and it is by a small orkish child who hasn't yet mastered the manual dexterity to roll the ball correctly. His proud mother looks on with commlink in hand, taking picture after picture.
Near the rear of the arcade is a long counter full of cheap plastic crap for kids and drunk dudes to buy with tickets. A thin, balding, white human sits behind it, smoking a cigarette and watching a hyper-violent action trid.
