Chapter 1

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 1, Day 1 - Week 2, Day 1
Summary: Game launch prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Leith
True Leithians
Westies
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine

Hushed whispers and conversations behind sealed doors spread throughout Qresh, carrying with them rumor of the Lady Derrish's illness. Poisoned, some say, as they speak their quiet murmurs and the news travels like wildfire. It lights up the nobility with a new cause - there is no heir to the Derrish name. At least, none that is known. A surrogate mother carries the only Derrish child to be related by blood. She dwells on Leith, though her location is obscured to everyone who seeks her - both those who wish to help and those who would do harm. Some wish to procure the heir - whether following the warrant for his retrieval or hoping to gain favor with the Nine by gift or by blackmail. Some wish the heir dead, seeking to cause a power vacuum that could lead to a bloody war as families of the Nine scramble to gobble up Derrish land. All have backring that can be traced back to the nobility, each family pursuing their own agenda. 'False' heirs, those who claim to be related, or bastard children, either rise up in hopes of fortune or hide in fear of those who would stamp out the family name for good. On Leith there is said to be a hotel staffed by the most beautiful woman, run by a man who no one has ever seen. Only those with money or influence may stay the night at Blessed Branches, though anyone seeking fine wine and good company may occupy its lounge. Many come hoping to spend time with the hostesses, though the girls aren't known for taking bribes or slipping away for a 'good time'. It is here, in one of the premium guestrooms, that the surrogate heir and his mother are housed. The other women are unaware of her status - simply taking care of her as one of their own - and how much the owner knows is as difficult to pin down as he is. Any display of violence is sure to be noticed, as Company officials and RAC agents alike guard the building for significant pay. Getting in may be simple for some, but getting out is far more difficult. The mother's room is on the 10th story, with its few windows locked and curtains closed. As she approaches her delivery date, help comes and goes with frequency, but on no specific schedule. Criminals and RAC agents alike chatter in the streets of Westerley and Leith over just who, and where, this woman could be. Many assume she lodges with the surrogate clusters hidden on Westerley - heavily guarded by men and treacherous landscape alike. Others seek beyond the Quad, and some assume she's already dead. No matter the cause, no matter its difficulty, the rush to find the woman and unborn baby only grows. Some may consult information brokers, some may attempt to find their way into the genetic databases, some may rely on word of mouth, and some may lay in wait for others to do the sleuthing work before closing in on their target.

The Company

"We need to send a message," every Company employee receives the same directive, "Loud and clear." Rules are rules, and there is no room for disobedience - neither within nor outside of the Company. The citizens of Westerley have become more unruly than usual, taking out their frustrations with their lot in life on the Company and on society. Or so the directive says. It is for the good of the Company, and for those loyal citizens who keep their heads down and do their duty, to expunge the corrosive minds from society and extinguish the flames of a foolish rebellion. From prisoner guards to those selected to string criminals up for execution, to those who stand watch over the sizzling corpses (or soon to be corpses) belonging to symbols of the rebellion left out in the rain to die, to those in charge of door-to-door or man-to-man ID checks, every bit of available manpower in the Company is being used to secure the city. Some may begrudge their work, while others delight in the lax restriction on violence towards citizens. All should keep their heads down, lest they become yet another target for the efforts to 'increase security' in the city. A heatwave that brings with it Black Rain makes the job difficult and treacherous - stay out too long and you could get caught in a storm. Just the same as the local Westies, all of whom are more or less stranded in their homes - or the bars they passed out in the night before - everyone is scrimping by with whatever provisions remain. Only those Company officials lucky enough to live on Company property, a compound of barracks that provides middling levels of comfort, don't worry for their necessities. Travel through the tunnels may afford the few who know of their existence more mobility - the ability to help others, to stockpile what they need, or to make an impressive capture - but comes with its own dangers. From the culture that lives there to the increased presence of resistance groups making their safe-houses in the vast, winding network, some may decide that the potential dangers aren't worth the trip, and others may wish they had.

Leith

Every season brings a new batch of harvest workers—old, young, adventurous, desperate. But it doesn’t matter whether a worker has tended to the same hokk farm for ten years: when the limits of a work visa are reached, they must return to their planet of origin or face severe penalties. Sometimes, though, people slip through the cracks. Sometimes people change their genetic records altogether to make sure it happens. Whether it’s an individual who refuses to return to the cage of Westerley or a merchant willing to look the other way for off-the-books labor, visa law enforcement is critical to the Quad. Targets identified as “high risk”—those individuals who have a profile of criminal behavior or have given the Company reason to take a second look at their credentials in the past—are being routinely rounded up to ensure their genetic identities and visa information still coincide. Killjoys and Company enforcers are being deployed in equal measure to address this potential security concern in the days leading up to “harvest week”, the seasonal break where workers return home and a new batch of hopefuls arrives on Leith. For some, this can be a minor inconvenience, taking DNA samples and conversing with understandably irritable workers—for others, this could be a potentially fatal encounter and lead into Leith’s darker underbelly. For whatever reason a target has chosen to stay or change their identity, they have done so at great and calculated risk. They will fight without discrimination to stay hidden and maintain their secret--as, at times, will their employers. Maybe they've decided to pursue a more lucrative line of work, using Leith's fertile soils to grow illicit substances, or perhaps they've simply decided that their fate should be in their own hands, and not that of a visa agency. Either way, they won't go quietly.

True Leithians

Gunfire is lost under the sound of the rain. The pitter-patter of acidic water beats in tandem to Company rifles and shouts, the flash of grenades like fireflies in the distance. The Family Registry Bureau, well-guarded and set on the outskirts of Old Town, shakes and shudders with each successive boom, debris falling as the battle escalates. “For Leith!” A single voice rises above the commotion and for a moment, the night is still, the incessant rain seeming to take heed, as if the clouds themselves have paused to see what will unfold. The building collapses. Fire billows out in violent plumes, snaking through the twisted metal and broken glass. Survivors on both sides disperse like scattered marbles. By morning, the dead have been dissolved to bone by the rain, and Company enforcers are out to ensure that scavengers don’t take their pick of the remaining materials. Officials are tight-lipped about what, if anything, was taken during the attack, but word on the street spreads fast—there’s a man hunt and hundreds of genetic identities are up for grabs. Criminal activity in Eulogy sees an all-time spike as bartered goods come in, though not everyone in Eulogy or the criminal world takes kindly to stealing from their own. Nor do they care for the sudden attention drawn to their illicit little den, making it a hot bed of Killjoy and undercover Company activity. But Eulogy isn't the only place to see unwelcome guests. On and off Westerley, news of the attack spreads, and agents of each organization race to come out on top. Whether it’s a Killjoy tasked with locating the perpetrators, a True Leithian conspirator on the run, a Westie out for revenge and securing their future in the Seventh Generation accord, or a Company Enforcer on orders of execution off planet—everyone has someone’s number, and time is quickly running out for each of them.

Westies

The heat hangs over Westerley like a blanket laid down over a fever, suffocating and addling. Sign posts flicker erratically between Company propaganda and storm advisory warnings. Old Town’s streets, normally buzzing and bursting with life, are like a ghost town. The few stragglers that remain move like worms, slowly and carefully, their bodies bowed over the carts they push as if the sun has melted away their will to walk. In the square of the town, a group of well-clad Company men and women hurriedly work, bolting modern day stocks into the concrete. Prisoners, red jumpsuits and heads covered in black shrouds, are roughly shuffled between the soldiers as they’re chained and bound to the stakes. Only once they’re secured are they allowed to see the light of day—for the first and last time in years. The squadron commander, a stalwart woman, takes up the intercom on her truck, her voice booming through each sign post in Old Town when she speaks. “Westerlens, for high treason and threats to the public good, these prisoners are hereby brought to this place of execution where they shall be exposed to the elements until dead. By order of the Company, serving the Quad.” Seconds later, the sirens start. The soldiers finish their work with haste and pile into their vehicle. The sky, moments before overbearingly bright, disappears under inky shadow, bruised green and red as violent clouds spread out like reaching fingers. The storm rolls in without mercy or pause, enveloping the light of the day by visible inches. Acidic rainfall begins to pelt down, not lightly, not drifting, but in a hard, unrelenting stream. Anyone caught within it has but hours to survive, and moments to escape disfiguring injury. The storms will rage for three days with few breaks in between. But the environment is hardly the only, or even the worst, thing Westies have to worry about.

Resistance

The rebellion suffered a crushing blow. Of course, rebellions in Old Town are used to that--but with key leaders gone, Resistance members are scattered like grains of sand across glass, rolling further and further apart. Some individuals seek to take the power vacuum as their own chance at power, but they're met with staunch rebuttal, splitting this already fragile organization into smaller and smaller cells. Under the cover of the acidic storms, the remaining members of the Resistance take to the undercity, whispering into the ears of the discontent and angry. Follow the branch that's extended to you, they say, and you'll find a new place to grow roots. And so those roots do grow, down walls, on pieces of passed paper, across the hands of those who harbor dissent. It's a symbol, a living, growing map, of a new haven. Innocuous to those who don't know what it means, symbolic and religious, but to those who seek out its meaning? They'll delve to the very deepest parts of the undercity, a place manned only by those wearing the yellow and gold of the Scarbacks. There, a secure military bunker is hidden beneath the layers of Old Town, lost to all but the original blueprints of the city. Its concrete walls hold the barest bones of supplies, but there's potential, a skeleton upon which the rebellion can build its strength and muster the will to stand again. Finding the bunker, though arduous, isn't the hardest part. Getting in? That will take connections, charisma. Trust. The Resistance is in awful short supply of that last right about now.

The RAC

The RAC, as ever, maintains its neutrality and follows its singular mandate: the warrant is all. But that isn't to say that there can't be a little fun in the process--between serving out warrants issued on behalf of the other factions and singular individuals, the top teams within the Quad will receive a special directive. Black Warrant For all teams, whether temporarily formed for the sake of pursuit or permanently aligned, this presents a unique opportunity to compete against their fellow RAC agents. All manner of subterfuge is encouraged, although directly attacking your fellow Killjoys will receive at least one bad review on social networking apps. But while killing your competition isn't allowed, making their life impossibly difficult and taking the prize for yourself? That's the very definition of the game. This is a competitive warrant, open to all Killjoy teams with a level 4 agent or higher. Your task is simple in description but far from it in nature: find and secure an heir for Land Derrish before your opponents. The catch (there's always a catch, isn't there?) -- you'll be fighting off more than your compatriot Killjoys. Criminals and mercenaries will be gunning for the same targets, and there's a mountain of bureaucracy standing in your way to figuring out who is a legitimate heir, if one exists at all. Your time is short* and your competition is fierce. May the best team win. *Week 1, Day 2 - Week 1, Day 5

Comments

kara styrdottir || one open & several closed prompts

[valr]

> Eulogy; open; day 1 - 4

[With the rains pouring down acid, Kara decides it's best to stay at work even when she clocks off at the end of her shifts, preferring to avoid getting her wings wet. There are the tunnels, of course, and other ways through the Badlands, but then there's also the increased Company presence to contend with, which might actually be worse than the acid rain. It makes for an interesting atmosphere, especially when this Derrish bullshit is tossed into the mix. Any crook for hire worth their salt is scrambling for news from the rest of the Nine, hoping to get a job taking out the rumoured heir. Most of the idiots only care about themselves, so they haven't even considered what the fallout will be.

It keeps Kara busy, feeding names and faces and tips to any of her Killjoy contacts. It means she has to actually pay attention to what's happening around her, so she drifts from bar to bar, finding good spots to people watch without being too obvious.

She has a feeling it's going to be a long few days.]

> closed; Ginshu; day 3

[Ginshu isn't someone that Kara spends a lot of time with; not that she doesn’t like him (she doesn’t really have an opinion on him), but because it's too risky for two people from the Resistance to be seen together. Still, it doesn't surprise Kara all that much when he reaches out to ask for her assistance with something dangerous.

Those in the Resistance who know Kara are aware of her military history, making her a good choice when dirty work needs to be done. She isn't sure exactly what Ginshu has in mind, but with the increased Company presence and the executions, she can't imagine it'll be simply.

Right now, something challenging will be good to distract her from all the bullshit going on, so she's happy to make her way into the deeper tunnels to where Ginshu told her to meet him.]

> closed; Itsuki; day 5

[The Red Stag is one of Kara's favourite bars, mostly thanks to the level of discretion that both the owner, and the other patrons, are willing to uphold. A lot of shady deals go on in the Stag, but it’s a different calibre of criminal than the type who frequent Eulogy, so Kara doesn't need to worry about any overlap. And a little bit of Joy slipped to the owner means that if anyone decides to ask whether he knows Kara, he'll always say no.

It makes it a good place to hold meetings with Killjoys or other information traders, even ones as annoying as Itsuki. If he has information about the attack on the FRB, she's willing to deal with being hit on.

The bar is quiet when she slips in, likely due to the rains, because not everyone knows the city as well as Kara. She can hardly blame them for not knowing how to get from place to place without exposing themselves to the acid. No one inside pays her any mind as she orders a whiskey and takes up a seat in a booth near the back, settling in to wait.]

> closed; Jason; later on day 5

[There are leads to follow, and Kara is trying hard to keep her anger at bay so she can focus on the task at hand without losing her cool. Right now that means arranging a meeting with Jason, at Eden, so they can update each other on what they've got so far. She has a feeling that Jason shares her current sentiments; he tries to hide it, but he seems to have a protective streak when it comes to underdogs, judging by the warrants he favours, as well as his methods.

It's her second meeting of the day, but she needs to keep moving with the information she has, so it's worth it. She just hopes Jason doesn't decide to run late.]

slides on in

[nightchild]

[she won't have to wait for long, as Itsuki arrives just in time for happy hour to really kick in. or it would have, if the rain wasn't keeping most of the usual crowd inside. It makes it relatively easier to spot Kara in the bar at least and Itsuki immediately heads her way. he lifts a hand in a lazy salute for Devin, then slides into the seat next to Kara. Not only because he's an incorrigible flirt, really, but also because the close proximity should make it less likely for anyone else to eavesdrop. REALLY!]

Hey. [he'd wink and say her name too, if he was stupid enough not to pick up her attempts at remaining incognito. he'll just settle for the wink] I sure am glad to see you. The rain really wrecked my plans for the week, but this is even better than the date I missed out on.

[he's dressed in his usual, looking not at all different from the other Westerlies coming home from a back-breaking job out. the only difference here is that his clothes are cleaner, and have the look of someone who hasn't gotten his hands dirty in a long time. well, not physically dirty, at least. maybe all that other stuff, corruption and taint and hanging around the bad sort, comes out in a different way.]

fancy meeting you here

[valr]

[Personal space is something that Kara is quite fond of, if only because it means that people can't accidentally touch her wings. They're folded tight against her back, hidden by the inbuilt cloaking, but she still rearranges herself when Itsuki gets close, turning so she's facing him more fully.]

I don't do dates.

[That is, in fact, true. Dates imply that there's more than just sex involved, and that's the last thing Kara wants.

But she's going to move on:]

There's a storm coming, dates ain't gonna matter if we're all dead.

[Maybe if Itsuki squints, he'll be able to tell that Kara is just a tiny bit unsettled by recent events. Westerley is never quiet, sure, but the last few days have been intense, and it has her worried.]

[nightchild]

[Itsuki, thankfully, doesn't obnoxiously lean in as Kara gives herself room. There's flirty, and there's just asking to get punched in the face. That, and he can pick up on some of Kara's feelings. It's only natural, considering how everyone else feels. The attack on the family registry bureau, of all places, have lit fires where the all the hubbub about the Qreshi's baby politics haven't.]

I don't know about that. [Itsuki says, still sounding as easygoing as ever.] If it's gonna be my last day on Westerley, then I'd rather spend it with a pretty girl.

[And not get blown up, but eh. beggars can't be choosers.]

You order your drink yet? I know you've probably got places to be, but unwinding for an hour can't hurt. [It's like he forgot the reason why she called him there in the first place.]

[valr]

[An eyebrow quirks up at his decision to call her pretty when there's a whole variety of words to use, but she doesn't care enough to actually point out that she's really not pretty.]

Got a whiskey coming, but you can buy me a second if you really want.

[She's not going to touch the whole "unwinding" thing because she knows that, despite the way he acts sometimes, Itsuki isn't completely stupid.]

[nightchild]

[MIGHT AS WELL since does Kara really want to sit through Itsuki going on and on about how all girls are beautiful, YOUNG AND OLD --]

Sure thing.

[The good thing about having a side occupation means having the joy to spend on the really important things, like buying Kara a drink. She could take it on the road, since Kara's spot-on about the part where Itsuki likes to look dumb (he likes looking flirtatious, but comes off as dumb), but he understands that this isn't a situation to while away with drinks.]

[He waves Devin over and puts in his order (whiskey for kara, and some kind of watered down scotch for himself) and while they're waiting]

Speaking of the storm, how you've been holding up with all this weather? I hope it's better than how our true believer pals have been dealing.

[valr]

[It's unlikely that she'll need to take the second whiskey on the road, considering now that she knows there's a second coming, she knocks back the first in one go. The nanos in her system mean that alcohol isn't quite as effective as it used to be, so she can drink more than most.]

Been keeping busy.

[There's a story there, probably, but Kara is nothing if not vague when she needs to be.]

I know how to get around in ways they don't, I'd bet.

[It's not just the Resistance that know how to use the tunnels; criminals often make use of them, too.]

[tirejacked]

[He's not long after her. Kara's about as close to a go-to that he has in the whole Quad—in more than one respect. As such, he's actually not inclined to waste time for either of them if he can help it. No one's got much of that in excess, lately.

It's been a busy week. With the Enforcers running over the city and the whole Quad in a buzz about the shakeups in the politics. (He keeps himself in the loop where he can, despite being hands-off on the matter of the competitive warrant—the Nine have all the resources in the universe to spend on their rescues and their rewards and all the white knights they could ask for looking for a proper payout in return. Money talks. But it doesn't take a genius to see that there's some bad news in the air no matter which way it shakes out.)

But best intentions aside, foot traffic is worse than usual. He has to dodge some crowds and some overzealous Enforcers already running ID scans and security checks to make sure everyone is really who they say they are. (He's RAC, so he could clear easy, but he doesn't have the patience for the song and dance and the waste of his time. Places to go, people to see. Citizenship's always been a moot point for him. Stealing some for himself is the last thing on his radar.)

To be polite, he raps his knuckles against the wall to announce himself. Just in case she didn't spot him coming in. By way of a hello—]

Sorry for the short notice. I know you're a busy lady.

[He doesn't get the feeling he's putting her out, much, by asking her if she had any leads on the break in. From the sound of it, it was already well on her radar.]

[valr]

[It's an old military habit, making sure she can always see every single exit or entry, but it's one that's served her well over the years. So she sees Jason walk in, but she still appreciates the warning he gives.

There's two beers on the table, and she gestures to the untouched one so that Jason knows it's for him. Two people talking in a bar without drinks looks suspicious.]

Looks like everyone's busy lately. [Killjoys, Company Enforcers, Leithians, and everyone in between.] You found anything worth sharing?

[She's got some leads, but she's curious if Jason picked anything up.]

[tirejacked]

[Jason's known Kara long enough by now to pick up on some of her peculiarities. He can appreciate what this one means—not just because it sure makes her pretty easy to find in a crowded bar. Find the part with the best view. No coincidence, there. With no small sense of irony—]

No rest for the wicked.

[And not even time for a "how do you do." He takes that as an invitation to sit himself down, reaching to pick up the glass and tip it toward her in a salute before taking a drink. Still cold—he's not that late. Setting the glass down, he makes a point of leaning onto the table in a way that is casual rather than conspiratorial. He doesn't mind a little tit-for-tat. All's fair. Rather than answer her right away, though—]

Not running on empty, are you? [She's an information broker, worth sharing is worth money. But humor him.] Or is this an unprofessional curiosity?

[valr]

[Kara's mouth twists wryly, though it's hard to tell whether it's at the slightly joke, or his assertion that she hasn't got anything to go on. But it's Jason, so she isn't too annoyed; she's willing to let him get away with more than she'd let most people.]

I want those fuckers dead.

[Her voice is quiet, just enough for Jason to hear, though there's no mistaking the edge in her tone. A bunch of True Leithians angry about having to share when they've probably spent their whole lives with too much is infuriating. An underhanded attack like what they did just makes it worse.]

[tirejacked]

[Picking at people for a rise is part investigative reflex and part bad habit, and probably the reason most people don't like the pleasure of his company very much. But she's a tough girl. He watches her steadily as her expression twists, like he's waiting out the confirmation of a hunch.

In that case.]

I've got a place but not a name—there's a supplier planning on making a trade to the highest bidder tonight over on the east side. I think she'll talk but she's not due to show for a few more hours.

[And who knows where to find her until then. Which means there's still a few hours for things to go wrong. For her to get spooked or tipped off or intercepted or mugged and dumped into the undercity to rot. He can do his own footwork, trace back the chain of custody from vendor to intermediary all the way back to the militant powers-that-be. But that takes time they don't have. Which is why he's here.]

[valr]

[A few hours is a long time in Westerley, especially when things are as tense as they are right now. She wouldn't be surprised if Jason's lead decided to change her plans at the last minute, whether or not someone tipped her off.

People are cagey.]

I've got a little more than that.

[It's not a brag, just a statement of fact, and she's sure Jason will be happy to hear it.

Before she can say anything else, someone new walks into the bar; he doesn't make a fuss, but Kara is alert enough that she casts a glance his way, assessing and dismissing him within less than a minute. Her attention turns back to Jason.]

A couple of them paid a friend of mine to hide 'em, luckily he's easy to buy.

["Friend" is a very loose term.]

[gyouten]

[Ginshu paces the small rock-hewn room nervously, wondering if his mind has finally snapped. He doesn't feel crazy, but maybe he's too crazy to notice? Either way, he hates involving someone else in his madness, but he has little choice in the matter. The black rains will be starting soon, and he doesn't have enough experience leading direct attacks on Company targets to do this himself.

Kara Styrdottir, and information broker allied with the Resistance, is barely more than a stranger to him... but Ginshu can tell from the way she carries herself that she's a well-trained warrior. They met on Eulogy several months before during one of his "missionary" trips, and he'd relied on her information to conduct resupply missions to distant rebel strongholds. They'd both been involved in a near-disastrous mission two months ago, so Ginshu knows that he can rely on her to survive if nothing else.]

Miss Styrdottir, is that you? Thank goodness... the rains could start any minute.

[Ginshu is as unfailingly polite as ever, but instead of his usual priestly robes, he's wearing a thick and formless cape of black rubbery material over hazmat coveralls. His greyish hair is held back by the strap of a pair of chemical-proof goggles. The protective suit has been cobbled together from pieces stolen from Company soldiers over the years, but even if it's not perfect defense from the caustic rains, it's not as if his face could look any worse. There's a second set of protective clothing sitting on a bench.]

Please forgive me... I couldn't discuss it on the surface, but I think the nature of this job is probably becoming clear to you now.

[He reaches for an old-fashioned sword and conceals it beneath his rubber cape.]

Ah... how should I put this... um... Miss, would you care to commit high treason with me?

[valr]

It's me.

[Miss feels strange to her, a title that she's never really bothered with, but there's no point correcting Ginshu, not when she hasn't held any rank for a couple of years now. It isn't important, anyway, because she's more focused on reading the situation.

Her gaze flicks between Ginshu - he's anxious, whether out of worry or eagerness to get moving, she isn't sure - and the outfit he's put together. That's going to be their first problem, but she won't bring it up just yet; she wants to hear what Ginshu has to say, and when he says it, she's not so worried about an ill-fitting hazmat suit.]

I ain't killing Enforcers. [Just putting that on the table, in case it's what he wanted.] I'm open to other suggestions.

[If it's a rescue mission, she'll consider it, depending on the people involved, but it'll be a hard sell.]

[gyouten]

[Ginshu shakes his head with a sigh.]

...I don't want to kill people who are just doing their jobs.

[He's considered the possibility of a rescue mission, of course but even if there are half as many Company enforcers on patrol as he expects, he'd never be able to put together a team to save the prisoners slated for execution. The Resistance simply doesn't have the manpower or organization for something on that scale. The fledgling revolution is short on weapons and basic supplies, and recent arrests have left fighters demoralized. That's the real point of the Company's public executions and high-profile warrants, after all - to slowly grind the Resistance into Westerly's dusty ground.

But... when did we just start accepting show trials and public executions as things that are as natural and predictable as the black rains themselves?

[The weather forecasts are calling for intermittent rains. A hard rain might have at least been merciful, but it could take hours for the prisoners to die as a light shower of corrosive rain burns through their bodies. Ginshu barely knows the condemned men... but just letting them die seems like a betrayal of what little humanity he has left.]

I can't save those prisoners, but at the very least, I could put them out of their misery. I'm not very good with guns, though. I thought... I thought if I could get you close enough for a clean shot, we could escape into the underground. There are tunnels that only monks know about...

[He trails off, unsure. He never meant to be a revolutionary... he just wants to get back what the Company took from him.]

[valr]

[The rest of Ginshu's explanation isn't really needed; as soon as he says slow executions Kara clues in to exactly what he means to do, and exactly what he must want from her. Maybe she figures it out so easily the sentiment is one that she shares.

Whether or not she agrees with capital punishment doesn't really matter. She knows death is part of life, and she's been responsible for taking more lives than she can count, but sadism isn't something she holds with, nor is drawing out punishment. She knows the purpose, of course, it's just another way to discourage acting out, but it doesn't sit well with her.

(An image flashes in her mind, a back cut open with the ribs hewn from the spine, but she dismisses it).]

Let's do it.

[For all his words, Kara keeps her response simple, though there's a hardness to her expression that belies her feelings.]

Got a couple handguns but I ain't be able to afford anything better yet. [Buying guns is expensive when you want to do it off the books.] I'm guessing there's no chance of a sniper rifle.

[She's not the best sniper, but then at least they could put a bit more distance between them and the Enforcers.]

[gyouten]

Ah... actually, now that you mention it...

[There's a rifle hidden under the piles of protective clothing. It's an old model, scavenged decades before from the Leithian security forces, but it still works. Hopefully. Scarback monks have relative freedom to travel within the Quad, so shipments of religious books and food donations from the main temple on Leith are often used to smuggle weapons and other contraband to the Westerleyan Resistance. The Company almost certainly knows what's really going on, but they haven't taken action to wipe out the church... yet. In their cold cost-benefit analysis, religion is another tool to placate the masses, so even revolutionary monks still have some value.]

I'm afraid there's not much ammunition, but we won't have many chances either. A minute or two at most to take out the prisoners, and then we need to escape into the tunnels. If we run into Company soldiers... I can stop them without killing them.

[valr]

[Old doesn't always mean bad. Sometimes it means reliable, sometimes it means a known variable. Her own people were advanced in ways and not others, so the rifle is almost familiar to her, something she easily could have used to hunt deer or hare at home, back when she had one.]

It'll do, I'm not a half-bad shot.

[That's her way of saying that she's good, the confidence more in her tone than the words.]

And let's hope it don't come to a fight. We know the tunnels better than they do.

Day 2 | Laaate night rendezvous

[lotusmesenpai]

[It's taken Kanda far too much time to track Kara down - far too many hours have passed since the black warrant was issued, since his conversation with Jennifer. Hours that Kara has had time to gather information and possibly even pass it on to someone else with the joy required.

First, he'd had to check all of her usual haunts within Old Town, and then wait for the rains to subside. Then he'd had to take the rover from Noah and shoot out of the city between the rains and hope like hell that the next bout held off long enough for him to make it to Eulogy.

In that sense, his luck held.

Once here, it hadn't taken long to spot the woman at all, and so he makes a bee-line over to where she's sitting, her back half to him from the entrance he'd used. Without a word, he steps right up to her seat, places a hand on the back of the chair, and leans over to catch her eye.

He's careful, too, to not make it look threatening in any way. This is her home turf. He'd be a fool to do so.

His gaze is serious, somber (moreso than usual, in fact) before he speaks low, so that only she could hear.]

We need to talk. Someplace... discreet.

[valr]

[Kara leans forward a little as soon as the hand is on the back of her chair, pulling her wings in tighter to avoid any accidental touch, even as she shoots Kanda an unimpressed look. She resists the urge to tell him to get the hell away from her, as that would only cause a scene, but she does glance around to make sure no one is looking.]

Get yourself a drink, then follow me. At a distance.

[She waves him off without really looking at him, not wanting anymore to draw a connection between her and a Killjoy.]

[lotusmesenpai]

[Huffing softly in annoyance, Kanda makes a face and then pushes off the chair and crosses the room without a backwards glance. Stepping up to the bar, he's careful to stand in a way that lets him track her in his peripheral while he order a drink.

The bartender cracks a joke about pretty boys getting shot down and, honestly, it takes Kanda a moment to realize what the man means before he shrugs a careless shoulder. Downing the shot of cheap hokk, he gets another and then pushes off the bar with glass in hand.

He doesn't follow her immediately, or even directly. Instead, he cuts through a different door, and then takes another to cut back towards the hall where he'd seen her disappear. Glancing around, he catches a sight of her further down and moves to follow at an almost lazy pace.]

[valr]

[The way Kara moves through a crowd might seem a little odd to anyone paying attention; she often turns to her side to slip past people, or sticks close to the walls, facing the crowd. Mostly, though, people recognize her as one of the security team and know that it serves them best to keep out of her way.

Usually, she moves with purpose, but she's being lazy about it now, as if there's no hurry in the world as she leads Kanda on a little trip through Eulogy.

Finally she stops in an abandoned corridor somewhere between one of the bars and the arena; it's a rarely used passage because there's a few gaps in the walls where sand blows in, but it serves the purpose. Leaning against the wall to wait, she lights a cigarette, figuring she's got at least a few seconds to herself before Kanda shows up.]

[lotusmesenpai]

[She's either hyper aware of her surroundings, or paranoid enough to keep her back to a wall in a den of disreputable assholes. Either way, it's just common sense to be on guard so far as Kanda's concerned so there's no real reason to fault her or call her on her roundabout means of leading him through the place.

Keeping at a distance, keeping her barely within the edge of his vision as she goes, it's the best way he can accommodate her demand to not be associated with a killjoy until she ends their glacial game of chase.

Even then, he gives it a few moments before following her down the alley, to give himself time to ensure they weren't actually followed before he cuts down the darkened path.

Once he does catch up to her, he gives the cigarette a glare before stepping back to lean against the broken wall opposite, checks to ensure there wasn't anyone to listen from the other side before he finally rests his palms on his holstered weapons.]

...What have you heard about the Land Derrish heirs, Kara? Or about Seyah Derrish, for that matter.

[valr]

[By the time Kanda joins her, Kara has gotten halfway through her cigarette, which has helped take the edge off her nerves if nothing else.]

Heard bits and pieces. She ain't well and everyone's hoping to cash in before she kicks the bucket. You going after the heir?

[There's a warrant out, so she figures Kanda is stopping by the get a little info before he heads out, which is why she's being a bit vague for now, until she knows more.]