Rejected by his former city government for doing his job too well. Ivo, the great Night City Detective that rustled too many corporate feathers, upset too many apple carts, discovers a new city with tall buildings, bright lights and with crime that needs to be stopped. Drune, a city built on pleasure and sin. Ivo finds a need to establish himself as functioning member of this society, one that he can help succeed while keeping the peace. First however, he feels the need to let his hair down.
As he walks through the city, Ivo finds a whole host of dance clubs, bars, strip clubs and massage parlors where he can spend his time and let loose for the night. He sees a sign in front of a dance club, he can feel the base from the music inside as he reads “Drune presents Vlad 937 at Biohazard.” That must be the DJ playing the great tunes emanating from across the street that he can feel in his chest. The name Biohazard seems fitting as a place that will remind him of the home he no longer has, while he is enjoying himself in this new city.
The metal doors slide open as he walks into the smoke-filled room, green neon particles oozing from the walls and floor into the air. He walks in as he feels the beat loosening him up. The problems of life remain on the outside, beyond the metal doors as he moves his way to the dance floor. He mixes in with the crowd of young adults as he joins them in escapism.
He takes a slug of someone else’s glass of Smash as he glides across the dance floor. Then it happened, he saw ‘her.’ About 5’4, neon green hair, light body-modified almost milky white skin, petite shape with lasered-on tattoos of beautiful roses, almost as beautiful as she is. Her hands in the air, swaying to the sounds, she seems to control the music with her hips. All other visual and audio stimuli drown out for the moment as he seems to be watching her dance in slow motion. It is the Smash or her beauty that has captivated him, leaving him in a trance as he stares at her. Ivo known for his swagger in all parts of Night City slowly walks up to her as his heart begins to race. That… is probably the smash. He does not say a word as he dances, first by her and then near her.
She noticed him stumbling across the room toward him. Handsome man with just the right amount of hardware on his body, a nice short haircut means that she can sculpt his face as she would like, in any type of braindance, without having to deal with the tedious task of hair masking. He is not too tall, but he looks chiseled with broad shoulders, and wow look at those arms. She pretends not to see him as he starts to dance near her, she slowly moves towards him till she is directly in front of him. Swaying her hips to the music, waiting for his next move.
He is no stranger to the subtle movements of an invitation to dance. Her moves quite more than subtle he presses himself against her back, matching her movements as they quickly learn each other’s rhythm.
The room begins to fade for them both as they can only feel the music and each other. He reaches around placing his hand on her tummy. She sinks into him, feeling her inhibitions fade as safety and yet excitement fills her thoughts instead.
They dance the night away, knowing that they have stumbled upon something. Maybe something exciting, maybe something wonderful , but definitely something. They finally go to the bar to talk with each other, they turn on their true noise-dampening devices to only hear each other speak. “Names Ivo Rossini” he states. “Arianna,” she replies, “Arianna Andolini.”
…
