Trident City 2075

Trident City: 2075 is a tie in story between Rainy Days and Rainy Days: 2075 [placeholder name]. It was written by Jeb.

## Trident City: 2075

The City of Rain, they call it. Dark days and darker nights, this is a city antithetical to productivity. Day and night, the sound of sirens can be heard echoing across the city, the high pitched whine of police hoverbikes hunting the scum of the earth. Yet somehow the city still functions.

The year is 2075. Trident city has changed. Forgotten are its glory days, back when vampires and the councils was the greatest of it’s worries. Gone are the fae, and the creatures of that time. Their bodies litter the concrete jungle that was once regarded as Umbri-La, the safe haven for those who despised city life. Windriver Reserve, built on a convergence of ley lines, was bulldozed in the name of progression. A transgression in the name of technology. The year is 2075. Neon glows in the desolate night, a glow that fails to reach the street below. Nightlife is more common than daylife as the Ares Arcology draws the peaceful inhabitants of the city into it. The streets are for the lost souls, the gangs, the poor bastard who still tries to hold onto a semblance of a normal life, and, of course, the Shadowrunners.

The Ares Arcology. Vibrant and pure, it exemplifies the hell that the city really is. The one place you can live without the constant rain is in the Dark District, in the shadow of the arcology. Here, under the protection of Ares’s private military, is where the corps live. And within the arcology is the self-sufficient haven for the displaced souls of the 21st century. But it is the underbelly of the Arcology we are looking at. The supposed haven from the rain, in the shadow of a utopia is everything but what Ares advertised. Cut off from the sun, the Dark District lives in shadow, almost breeding the underworld that resides there. The corporations corrupt, everyone in the Dark District is either a Shadowrunner or a corp dog. Nobody “passes through” there.

The slums. Bulldozed at last, their memory lingers over the entire supercity. Despite rapid expansion, it always seems as if there is not enough space to live. Requisitioning Windriver, filling the Lake with concrete, throwing the city into the shadow of the Arcology, yet the streets seem to grow ever fuller with those who have failed. The dejected, desolate, and depressed who wander this urban wasteland. You cannot walk down the street without being assailed by their prescence. This city that stretches across the coast, that now calls the mile highway “main street,” that is the pinnacle of consumption and expansion, *the city people call home,* ***this city***… is where everyone eventually ends up. The mixing pot, where all the metahumans gather, a city where one might find survival. Somehow.

This is the city you find yourself in. Perhaps you were born in the arcology. Perhaps you come from out of town. But wherever you are from, you have always had the shadow of this city lingering over you. You know the city like an old friend, always there for you when you needed it. Or perhaps a friend that abandoned you when you needed them the most. However this city has twisted you, however it has shaped you, whatever paths you walked to get here, know this: This city is your home, with all its flaws and shortcomings. And you? From all walks of life, from all the metahuman races, people gather in the melting pot of Trident City. You are one of the rebels, who refuse to stay down in a fight. Gangs were too crude for you, and the Arcology rejected you, so you turned to the shadows. The underworld’s professional service industry. Shadowrunning. No matter what you call yourself, what tag you go by, what profession and name you show to the world, know this: you are a shadowrunner.