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

itsuki kagami | OTA!! | week one

[nightchild]

on westerley; out and about

A; days 1-7
[even when there's black rain, and even when Company folks are executing people in said black rain, and even when the family registry bureau blows up sky-high, you Gotta Go To Work. especially if said work thrives on incidents like these; tragedy and destruction always feed the rumor mill, and Itsuki's having quite a time keeping it all straight.]

[which doesn't mean he can't keep it straight, especially for any curious and willing to pay customers who're looking to contact a relatively cheap information broker. whether it's at itsuki's hole in the wall in old town, in the under city tunnels, or a shady bar -- Itsuki's ready to pass on the news. His eyes flick, and his face morphs into a slow, lazy smile as he's approached.]

Looking for something? [OR, ALTERNATIVELY] Man... Really... Can't at least one of my customers be a cute girl? The number of scraggly, unwashed grunting types always goes up when things get down, like clockwork. Ahhh, just my luck.

[he's not insulting anyone okay that's just ur imagination]

B; days 1-4

Hey, hey!

[a quick, discordant voice cuts through the otherwise silent night. this is the sort of night where Westerlies know how to keep their head down, partly to avoid the rain and partly to avoid suspicion. hurrying past and to their homes with nary a peep. and usually, Itsuki goes with the flow too. He's not a rebel, and he's not that big of a soft-heart to stick his neck out and gain attention, and he knows when to keep his own irritated thoughts behind closed doors. that is. usually.]

Look, officer, is all this really necessary? [Itsuki asks, spreading his arms out in the universal sign of 'I SURRENDER' as two Company employees give him unamused stares. He was just about to enter a bar before ] Come on, look at my face! You can't tell me that someone as good-looking as me's a trouble-maker! Besides, I go to this bar all the time. Just go in and ask the Madam, she likes me. Seriously, just because you two don't know how to unwind doesn't mean I don't --

[One of them steps forward THREATENINGLY and Itsuki shrinks back accordingly, still with the same insolent grin on his face though. nice itsuki]

Man, persistence is so unattractive in a guy. You'll never get popular with the girls if you don't learn to let up -- what was that? You're married? Really? I hope you're not this prickly towards your missus then -- hey, what are you -- ow!! Oww!!

[One grabs Itsuki's waving arm and wrenches it behind him, and he lets out an indignant squawk as the other probably like pulls out a HANDY BATON. SAVE ITSUKI!!! or just tell him to fork over his id already]

C; Days 5-7. eulogy

[whether you're trying to sneak in, you're already in but you're staring everyone down with poorly-disguised murderous intent, or you're part and parcel with all the thugs around (but seem to have lost your way??), Itsuki puts in his unwanted two cents from the doorway of a particularly seedy establishment.]

Need some help there?

[he'll take pity on those who aren't cool enough to mingle with criminals, really. he has the best intentions at heart!! please trust him. and ignore the fact that being in eulogy just makes him untrustworthy by principle.]

[OOC: also I'll write up starters so anyone who wants to hit up further plotting beyond these prompts let me embrace you]

day 3 | yaywon.....are we finally tagging again after so many years

[cauterised]

[The only good (?) thing about the goddamned rain about to sear the streets clean is that there isn't a single person keen on lingering outdoors for longer than they have to. Westies peer through their windows, eyes watchful and still, and the few Enforcers remaining on the street peer more and more frequently towards the cargo vans that'll take them back to home and safety. That's where Riza would like to be, at home and free of her dirt-stained uniform, but it looks like that's a dream that'll have to be put on hold when familiar shouts reach her ears,

She's not overly fond of Itsuki - why should she be, when he seems to laud her breasts more than her brains most meetings - but he's stayed surprisingly true to the letter of the law as long as she's known him. Whatever he's guilty of no doubt amounts to no more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time (if only because she's positive he hasn't enough brain cells to rub together for a stunt bigger than an ill-timed pick-up line).]

I'll take it from here.

[The guards mumble irritably - I got a quota to fill here! - but they recognize her and her authority on these streets and eventually shuffle away—though not before making sure to cuff Itsuki's hands behind his back. Riza takes a moment to pray to whatever low-level god might be listening out there that handcuffing isn't one of Itsuki's myriad kinks before leaning forward to hiss:]

What are you doing?

[Better have a good reason here, buddy.]

IT FEELS THAT LONG.... was the last time... shinji and totsuka....

[nightchild]

[Everything about this situation is almost perfect – here he is totally handcuffed (KINKY!!!) and in the presence of a beautiful woman (EVEN BETTER!!!). Also, outside, which like he probably wouldn’t mind??? (VAL, STOP MAKING ME TYPE THESE SINS OUT) But that kind of scenario exists in a perfect world, a world where Itsuki wouldn’t be handcuffed in the first place for speaking his mind (albeit in a totally rude way). So as much as his mood seemingly lifts when Riza takes control of the situation, he’s still irritated by everything that’s irritated him since he woke up this morning, looked out his tiny cheap window through duct-taped glass, and seen the warnings for incoming Black Rain and the Company prowling the streets. So, instead of giving her a totally gross wink and ruining Riza’s day with an unneeded come-on, Itsuki gives her a 50% gross wink and waves his hands. As much as he can. With them handcuffed behind his back. So like, he wriggles his hands.]

Hey, Riza. [casually, as if she just hadn’t witnessed something embarrassing] I was just about to get a drink, like every other hard-working Westie would.

[He would totally clutch at his chest dramatically if he wasn’t handcuffed, sighs.]

Only to get harassed and restrained! I know paranoia’s part of the job, but aren’t these a little much? I like handcuffs as much as the next person, but there’s no point if it’s a guy who’s putting them on me.

[/ADMITS TO HIS KINKS IN FRONT OF RIZA. He was probably handcuffed because they could sense his inner pervert, or something. That, or they just slapped them on him because he looked poor and perfect to beat around. Itsuki doesn’t know if he’d like either option, and as much as he sighs dramatically, there’s a note of real irritation creeping into his voice.]

i think it was....that's too long ago.

[cauterised]

[God, that was absolutely everything she did not want to know about Itsuki, why do these things always happen to her?

It's only years of training that keep her from recoiling away in disgust; even so, her hands tighten a little painfully around his wrist before loosening as she steps back to hoist him upright again. The more distance between the two of them, the better.

(Seriously, ew.)]

Don't ever talk about that again or I'll arrest you for real.

[SHE'S NOT JOKING....DON'T DO IT.

But once the other officers are out of sight, she unlocks the handcuffs and lets Itsuki step free. The crowds always filling Westerley's streets are happy to step around them, unwilling to get caught in the middle of an Enforcer and her current victim. She could let him go, be a nice pal, but she's got another mouth to feed apart from her own and bills to pay. Shirking on the job won't do any good for her paycheck.

Besides, they're not really friends in the true sense of the word.]

You weren't planning on illegally selling any drugs while getting that drink, were you?

i guess i have to tag u a hundred times now to make up for it get ready val

[nightchild]

[oooh PAIN im jk pain is not one of Itsuki's kinks, THANK GOD!!!! There's something hot about authority though, this is probably why he dokis for Riza. As soon as he's free from the cuffs, Itsuki rubs his wrists, looking relieved. He's even all set to say something like 'mmm that's a tempting offer' when Riza threatens to throw him in jail for the rest of his life, god. It's just as well that she asks him a DRUGS QUESTION INSTEAD!!!]

[He turns to face her, expression half-squint, half-wounded sensibilities, and half-um??? RUDE??? okay that doesn't end up to one but. it's a good thing he's not actually out to sell drugs, sweats, because she'd totally get him. for now, he's just Shocked and Offended enough to frown.]

Woah, there. [that comment rankles. it's also completely fcking legit, but Itsuki's not exactly mature enough to realize that. All he hears is another needling question, in the same vein of those earlier enforcers.] I might look like a low-life, you know, for a Westie who's not on the Company payroll, but there are things that even I don't do for drinks.

[never mind the fact that he's buying drinks with money he has from selling drugs. That's not important! What's important is that Riza made such a rude accusation.]

Though I guess you can't help that. Just part of the job, right? I'm not Company or an elite, so I'm basically free game.

i'm ready!!!

[cauterised]

[Shocked and Offended is the name of the game today so TOO BAD ITSUKI. She has no sympathy for him. And she'd have no sympathy for him either if he did end up getting himself thrown in jail. It's been a long day, she wants to go home and pet her dog and cook a nice dinner, but instead she's standing outside with some guy who doesn't seem to know how to keep his mouth

Ugh.

And even though she fully expects his ire, has heard those same complaints from a hundred different other people, it still stings. (An eye for an eye, right?)]

You could have answered with a simple yes or no instead of running your mouth. Have you ever considered that might be why officers target you all the time?

[There's less annoyance to her tone now as she shakes her head, resignation taking the place of now-receding irritation. He's not a bad person and she probably ought to take a cue from her own advice and keep her own mouth shut. Though before she does so, there's something else she has to add.]

It's Hawkeye, by the way.

[Please don't be so informal as to use her first name???]

ARE U VERY SURE

[nightchild]

[There is something very unsatisfying about a person who refuses to descend to your own childish level, Itsuki thinks. Especially when it worked so well for the other two, who ended up handcuffing Itsuki so really, who won there...]

It's a cold bleak world out there when you can get arrested for making conversation. [Itsuki says anyway, unable to resist. Even though he wasn't arrested.] Or maybe that's just you, Hawkeye.

[Being relegated to last name basis (except was Itsuki ever on first name basis, no) stings, okay. It shouldn't?? sting at all?? She's just telling him to not be so friendly?? But being in a petty sort of mood means making yourself out to be the victim in a lot of things, so clearly Riza is just being mean to him on purpose.]

Is just Hawkeye okay? Shouldn't I stick a 'lieutenant' in front of it, or maybe 'commander'? Or whatever people like me have to call you. Maybe you got promoted when I wasn't looking.

A - day 1!

[impulsors]

[ let's say it's a streetcorner.

a streetcorner just steps away from itsuki's shoddy-bricked hole-in-the-wall means that it's packed in the middle of the day, yellow-lit as citizens swarm forth and back from the daily grind. it's a mingle of the city's strangest blood from overalls to shabby suits, some wheeling chrome-gaudy cycles along while others fumble by on foot, clutching at wobbly pyramids of takeout and coffee. it means you get all sorts drifting in from westerley's cross-sections, from children to lumbering pedestrians to salesmen hawking god-knows-what. (keith's shaken off two in the last fifteen minutes alone: veiny, knuckling men with ink-bright eyes and whozits-and-whatsits-galore tucked under their coats. so each claimed, unfastening their topmost button -- and keith'd spun on a heel and torn off in a hurry.)

but a streetcorner means lamp-posts just wide enough for slouching, means gum-patched sidewalks and street-signs. and, unluckiest of all: it means means a light permanently stuck on red, and a stream of vehicles pouring across the road in a torrent begging to amputate the first careless jaywalker. this, ladies and gentlemen, is what comes of not having your own ride.

it explains why keith's eye deigns to swivel from the light (seriously, it's been two minutes) over to. . . a slim, bright-eyed shape in a jacket too good for old town.

. . . ]

Maybe you should try a different street.

[ look, it's very simple math, the kind all the westerley kids learn: streetcorner + illegal sales all around + pretty-looking man + nice hair + complaining about getting too many men among his customers during times of stress = . . . ??? ]

im screaming

[nightchild]

[There is nothing about Itsuki that most definitely says informant and not sex worker, so surely, this is also Itsuki’s fault for being so vaguely skeevy.]

[Then again, it’s been a while since he’s??? been??? Assumed to be one?? He’s climbed the ladder. He’s worked his way up! Most people who come on by actually know who he is! No longer are there awkward moments of men and women sidling on by and winking at him while asking his rates just as there’s no longer awkward moments of Itsuki giving them said rates and then realizing as they run their hands down his body that it’s sex that they want. Which is fine, honestly, Itsuki respects every Westerley occupation (and he’s done his fair share boosting that particular industry), but like??? HE THOUGHT HE WAS PAST THIS!!]

[Is what he’d think if he actually cottoned onto what Keith was implying. The sad thing about it having been a while, is that you don’t realize that it’s actually happening until later probably.]

[For now, he waves a quick dismissive hand.]

Here or there, it’s all the same. I’ve been around enough to know. [He heaves a sigh, sounding dangerously dramatic, as he straightens up from the wall he’s been leaning on for the past hour. Even though Keith didn’t necessarily approach him, he did unfortunately make eye contact with Itsuki. And he also talked to him. So like, he’s in for it now.] But it’s fine. I mean, it’s not really fine, but the joy’s the same at the end of the day, so.

[this sounds awful!!! Itsuki squints at Keith.]

So, what exactly are you looking for? [This one’s a new guy, Itsuki notes, looking him up and down with the intention of studying him, but like??] I’d hate to brag, but I’m pretty experienced, so there’s a good chance I can do whatever you’re looking for.

[THIS SOUNDS AWFUL!!! Anyway now Itsuki’s left the wall and is probably approaching Keith, hi]

❤!

[impulsors]

I'm not looking for anything.

[ It's firmer than he needs, an instant defense, two syllables short of a bite. He doesn't retreat but his shoulders square; one arm folds over another at once, jutting elbows. ]

. . . but I meant what I said. People don't buy stuff like that in broad daylight.

[ And then, with a strict sort of deadpan - ]

Most people.

[ Look, who knows what this hooker's looking to cater. Never trust a man who dyes his hair. ]

[nightchild]

[WOW THIS IS HIS REAL HAIR what kind of anime is keith if he doesn't understand the anime laws of weirdass hair!! LOOKS AT ALLURA!!!]

They're usually a lot more subtle yeah, but times being what they are... [Keith's tone doesn't faze him, nothing short than an actual punch would. (that's happened before honestly). Itsuki's squinting look of observation turns into amusement.] Everyone wants to get in on the action.

[The action of BABIES IN SPACE, though Itsuki himself has no personal interest in what's going on there beyond 'making money and accidentally putting people on wild goose chases']

Everyone who's looking to score, that is. So what are you supposed to be? Company? Killjoy? Maybe a merc who isn't good enough to be either?

[impulsors]

[ Um, Allura is an actual alien.






Though being an alien would explain a lot about Itsuki. With equal subtlety, Keith bristles a little: hackles and fists and all the way to the ends of his hair. ]

Killjoy. And some of us don't have to buy it.

[ Keith, why are you talking like you've ever scored. ]

[nightchild]

[Keith, this is doing the exact opposite of convincing Itsuki to leave you alone and hawk his 'services' elsewhere!! It's like the more bristly he is, the more Itsuki is sticking around in his debonair jacket and getting people to side-eye the both of them.]

I figured. You killjoys are a grumpy bunch. [Number of killjoys Itsuki knows who like him: no one. there's no one.] And yeah, you guys have your own people, but it's handy to buy from someone without RAC breathing down your neck, don't you think?

[not that RAC would have their own mandated sexters... though Itsuki wouldn't put it past them to have like a whole set of seemingly neutral hookers. BUT HE'S NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THAT, HE'S TALKING ABOUT WARRANT BROKERS]

I can promise that much at least. I'll make it worth your time, with the pleasure of being incognito.

[SCORE!!]

Part 1 | Day 2, evening

[lotusmesenpai]

Last I checked, [Reaching up to push back the hood of his cloak, Kanda shakes his bangs out of his eyes and arches a brow at Itsuki.] I showered this morning, so I don't think I qualify for either scraggly or unwashed.

[Glancing away from Itsuki, Kanda's gaze scans the crowded bar with a frown. Not having Lavi here makes watching the drunken morons surrounding them all the more tedious.

He frowns at that, then lets out an irritated sigh as he focuses back on the informant.]

We need to talk. Privately.

[nightchild]

[Itsuki immediately straightens from his 'oh woe is me, i haven't hit on a girl in ages' stance he's been perfecting for the last few hours, shooting Kanda a grin. Overall, 90% of every encounter with Kanda usually ends in pain, but Itsuki's never held a strong grudge against the killjoy for that. Probably because Itsuki's too self-aware not to know that 80% of the time it's his own fault. Anyway, at least Kanda looks pretty. Maybe Itsuki could like pretend. (im sorry laure)]

Heh, my bad. I figured it was a ninety-to ten chance, considering my track record. [He follows Kanda's gaze, ] There's a room in the back that's unoccupied. Or something. Tina's probably done with her last customer by now.

[who's tina??? Kanda probably doesn't want to know. and if Kanda doesn't grab Itsuki and force him into more private, CLEANER, pastures, then Itsuki will lead the way to some shady room, away from the crowd.]

Man, I can't remember the last time I've seen you alone though. Where's your friend?

[Is Itsuki using the word 'friend' on purpose to be annoying, probably, yes]

[lotusmesenpai]

[So long as Itsuki doesn't make jokes about Kanda's looks, or try to call him a girl, or anything along those lines, really, Kanda would probably manage to not knock the bastard out every time they met.

So really, the guy only has himself to blame for his sudden naps post Kanda visits, since he doesn't know how to not pretend.]

So long as she's not with her last customer still.

[Shrugging dismissively at that, Kanda lets it drop. He doesn't know or give a damn who Tina is (though he assumes she's one of the bar's sexters), so long as she's not in there to listen in on their conversation. He starts wave Itsuki forward, as if to shoo him towards wherever it is the other man wants to go.

(nevermind what it looks like, them going into a sexters room together)

But the question rankles.

There's innuendo there, on that word, but it strikes much to close to home. He and Lavi barely speak, really. And even after they'd met with Jennifer, they hadn't said much to each other before splitting into separate directions, falling once more into awkward avoidance as they had since the night of their confrontation.

His expression darkens, blue gaze narrowing as he glares at Itsuki.]

Not fucking here, so drop it.

[Cold and stoic, or pissed off and alone? Either way, tread carefully with this topic...]

[nightchild]

[Itsuki raises his hands in the universal sign of 'have mercy or, consider having mercy before knocking my lights out maybe', face creasing itself into a grin all the same.]

Just asking! Occupational hazard, you know.

[He doesn't sound very repentant?? But he leaves the subject seemingly behind him. It's true that he's curious, but he's learned by now that he can't indulge every single time. Even if he does want to know: is Lavi lying in a ditch somewhere?? is he in a full-sized body cast?? IS HE DEAD? Normally he'd take his cues, but Itsuki has this feeling that Kanda would look just as pissed-off if it was any of the above, or all three. when ur poker face is just ANGER]

[The room they enter is definitely a sexters room, dark-lit and smelling of cheap fragrance, and Itsuki steers around the bed in order to appropriate two chairs. The conversation might very well be brief, this is Kanda after all, but Itsuki's a man who likes his comforts and probably hates standing around for no reason and he's lazy so like, he sits.]

So, what's up? Assuming you're not here for the same thing every other merc and killjoy who's been around asking questions have been.

[though he can't imagine what else Kanda would possibly want to know]

[lotusmesenpai]

Moron.

[Urge to knock certain info brats upside the head diverted, Kanda follows into the room, nose wrinkling at the scent of musky humans and cheap perfume.

Rather than take the seat opposite Itsuki, Kanda crosses to the window, checks the street outside, and then leans against the marginally not filthy wall there, arms crosses as he considers his next words carefully.

This could, potentially, cause him some serious problems later, but the RAC doesn't govern how dirty killjoys play with each other during black warrants and the info sitting on his tongue isn't, technically, classified so...

Letting out a slow breath, Kanda offered a faintly amused smirk as he finally speaks.]

I've got information to sell you, for a change. If you're interested.

[nightchild]

[Kanda would be a wall-leaner. He's so the type. Itsuki raises an eyebrow, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. Probably wondering why Kanda would be selling anything, and for whatever reason.]

As long as it's not something I've already heard of, then sure. Why not. [But the climate now means not turning anything down, even if it's the stupidest rumor on Planet XYZ. Even if it's coming from Kanda, who apparently needs more studying now that it's just him, and without Lavi around to keep pace.] Are you strapped for joy or something?

Part 1 | Day 6, late evening

[lotusmesenpai]

[He'd come here to trade - arms for information, at the very least. Having to threaten dismemberment not once, but working on the fifth time since his arrival, because the morons were too drunk to not realize a pretty face does not equal a quick lay and it's easy to see Kanda's barely there restraints on his temper are utterly shot.

Evident, in the way he'd just flicked his firearm from stun to max kill setting, before he heard Itsuki's voice.

A sharp elbow to the diaphragm and a kick to the side of the offending bastard's knee wins him some space, before he finally glances at the informant with a narrowed gaze.]

You. What the hell are you going to do that a bolt to the head can't?

[nightchild]

[Itsuki stays in the shady threshold where it's safe. He can't help but wince in undisguised sympathy for that poor bastard. Though he probably deserved it. Still...]

You know, I was thinking exactly that, actually. [let Itsuki help Kanda do things that doN'T INVOLVE BREAKING PEOPLE'S NECKS!!] I know you just love getting your hurt on, but maybe I could help you in a way... that involves less beating people up? What do you think?

[unless kanda's end goal is beating people up???]

[lotusmesenpai]

[His goal was information. What he'd gotten was propositions by disgusting men, ergo, violence is a natural default.

He starts to respond to Itsuki again, only to frown down at the man kneeling beside him - the bastard had the audacity to reach a grimy hand towards Kanda's waist. Scoffing disdainfully, Kanda smacks the hand away... and then brings a knee up sharply, catching the man under his jaw.

A loud crack echos, the drunk's eyes roll back, and he falls to the side, out cold.]

Not needed, for now. But if you've got a place where we can talk without this bullshit, I'm waiting.

Again.

[nightchild]

[This time Itsuki has no sympathy, disguised or otherwise, for the drunk who really should have learned his lesson by that first hit. Instead, he steps back from the door and jabs a thumb behind him.]

Lucky for you, this is just the place. [his face looks vaguely concerned for a moment though] Try not to beat anyone up inside, okay? Or if you have to, pretend that you don't know me or something.

[With that, he slips into the building. It looks like a bar, albeit with a 'CLOSED' sign dangling from the counter, but the few patrons around are all seated on couches, clearly dozing. Also, one guy is probably snoring. loudly. Probably best considering the alternative.]

Not that any of these guys would actually wake up if you did, but the proprietress likes it quiet. [Itsuki moves past the main area and hops over the low counter, setting the sign spinning as he bumps it with his hip, then opens the door to a relatively cramped room. But without the snoring, and without the odd herb scent anyone who's taken Norn would recognize.]

There. No bullshit to be seen. Happy now?

[lotusmesenpai]

[Kanda follows him, already mildly regretting doing so, but the sight that greets him when he enters the lounge area has his eyes widening fractionally, feet slowing as he assess the room.

All these fucking losers sleeping like babies, and he hasn't managed more than two or three hours a night for well over a month.

Belatedly, he follows the informant, placing a palm flat on the low counter before neatly vaulting over it and landing on quiet feet. A few steps have him stepping into the room, brows knitting into a slight scowl at the herbal air within.]

...I'd heard rumors, but-- [cutting himself off, he takes a half step towards the other, eyes narrowing intently as his voice drops lower, just shy of threatening.] I hadn't been sure. Just what do you sell them to knock them out? Because they don't look like Bliss or Jakk addicts, broker.

[nightchild]

[Itsuki immediately raises that hand, as if he could actually do anything if Kanda decided to get violent, but the gesture counts!!]

Woah, there. When I said try not to beat up anyone inside, I also meant me.

[If he's dismayed that Kanda's heard of any kind of rumors, then he doesn't show it. A part of him's not actually all that surprised. It comes with his target market -- secrets don't stay secrets, and any addict will run his or her mouth for just the right drug. For now, Itsuki's just more concerned that Kanda will be extremely offended that this is happening at all and toss him through a window or something.]

Anyway, they don't look like Bliss or Jakk addicts, because I don't sell them Bliss or Jakk. They're way too expensive. Brokering is my day job, so it's not like I can afford to produce that shit.

[okay but you didn't say what ur selling, itsuki???]