Chapter 2

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 2, Day 5 - Week 4, Day 6
Summary: Chapter 2 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
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Poisoned Well

With the heir delivered and Lady Derrish returning to health, balance has been maintained amongst the Nine. Swift and efficient - and, some would say, unbelievable - medical attention administered may have steadied the Lady's life, but for those in the ruling houses, the atmosphere of tenuous peace only grows thicker. Land Kendry has launched an investigation - with particular focus on Land Hyponia - into the source of the 'attack' on Lady Derrish's health. Of course, that is only the surface, and some suggest, with hushed voices, that there may be more to Land Kendry's goals than to weed out an assailant. Land Hyponia has long since been in support of maintaining the Seventh Generation Accords, which it defends staunchly against any opposition. One of the most agitated among those in disagreement with the Accords is Land Kendry. Now is the perfect opportunity for them to rearrange the pieces in their favor, and with the information they've fabricated, they'll be able to replace the head of Land Hyponia with someone who is - at least hopefully - more pliable to their agenda. The Derrish have their own suspicions, the cure surfacing all too conveniently timed to have been a coincidence. When Land Kendry's investigation procures evidence pointing to Land Hyponia as the culprits, inflaming the crime with implied - yet vague - ties to the resistance, the Derrish publically accept the accusation. Behind closed doors, the solution seemed to have come as uncannily easily as the cure, and suspicions only rise. But for now, the two houses remain allied - ready to use one another for their own interests. For those among the nobility, it's the time to reevaluate alliances, assuring the old and gathering the new. The more support you have, the safer you are - unless, of course, you chose the wrong friend. Some turn to other members of the nobility, some to the RAC for hired guards, some to the Company to mandate investigations unsuitable for Killjoys, and some may even turn to the underbelly of society to accomplish anything necessary to stay on top. Or to simply stay alive.

The Company: Cleaning House

There will be no accolades, and no rest, for the hard working Company officials following the response to the True Leithan attacks. Assignments shift from one thing to the next, moving from bureaucratic nightmare to bureaucratic nightmare. While there’s always busy work to distract from the intrigue behind the scenes, it’s not liable to be any safer. Some officials will be charged with maintaining peace and order on Leith, as the outbreak of a pandemic slowly spreads over the moon. From helping the afflicted find their way to a place of treatment, to safe and efficient body disposal—burning corpses by the hundreds—to attempting to track down the source of the virus, it's best anyone assigned here take heed ‘lest they find themselves falling ill as well. Westerley, on the other hand, is a different kind of headache. With Harvest Week in swing, most company officials will be reaching for a drink of their own at the end of their shifts. Rowdy workers celebrating their time off, spending their hard earned Joy frivolously, and citizens whisked away by the atmosphere of celebration all mingle throughout Old Town. Property damage, fighting, less than subtle illegal activity, and crowding all become more of an issue than they usually are during this time. It's the perfect setting to lay down the law, or to not be noticed by it. On top of it all, each and every member of the Company's workforce can expect to have their documents double and triple-checked. Those with any suspected ties to Leith are likely to undergo a more serious investigation. One-on-one interrogations become common practice, and whether you're trusted or suspect, you may come face to face with a companion in your duties. True Leithan sympathizers are what the Company review is after, but anything else unturned will surely not be ignored. Cover your bases.

Westies: Harvest Week

Harvest week is in full swing throughout Westerley - visa workers have been shuttled back in droves from their time on Leithian farms, many of whom were willing to take some of their observations to information brokers for a price. Most had superficial information to sell (the state of unease on the average farm due to the impending Accords, the increased suspicion that the migrant workers were forced to endure, the fear of retaliation by the rebellion for the True Leithian attacks), others with reports of increased security and weapons caches on the farms of those whose sympathies lie with the “heroes” of the attack in Old Town. Old Town, however, is even more of a chaotic mesh of humanity with the mass influx of returning bodies. Bars stay busy day and night, the hokk and ale flow almost faster than most can keep up, and many Enforcers and Killjoys alike can make a good bit of extra joy (or free drinks) by moonlighting as security at the more popular locations. Despite all of the fun to be had, there is still the undercurrent of unrest, because Company checks have increased even more and Intake has become a revolving door of petty criminals being held for the smallest infractions. Everyone is on edge as the Resistance grumbles and the Nine search the shadows for something or perhaps someone. The unrest only worsens once Leith is placed under quarantine. And through it all, criminal activity is on the rise. Somehow, despite the strict regulation and transport of migrant workers, there is an increased access to Jakk and Bliss. Norn has an ever growing market, and weapons dealers are in high demand both in Eulogy and by private buyers alike. Something is brewing beneath the revelry, and no one wants to be caught unable to defend themselves, it seems. Not that any amount of firepower can defend against disease when P43X shows up on W3D7--but it can certainly make the symptoms worse.

True Leithians: Second Stage

Wounded and pressed to a corner, the beast rears its head and bares a maw of teeth and ruthless pursuit. The True Leithian organization does not take pause to mend wounds left in the wake of last week’s retaliation, no. They do not seek the comfort of safe haven and recovery. Instead they turn their anger and fear inward, sacrificing their own for what they believe to be the greater good. On Week 2, Day 6, three individuals slip into the crowds of Leith, mingling with the revelers and the families celebrating Harvest Week. They share smiles and laughter, they share conversation and drinks, but most importantly, they share infection. Each of the three is responsible for disseminating P43X, a viral bioweapon designed by Zan Nikora on behalf of the military in years past. During its conception, the aim of P43X was simple: to create a weapon which could demoralize and destabilize an entire population within a matter of days. To create madness that builds in the blood and eats into the brain, spreading through every tier of society. And though its use has long been out of commission, its engineer has lingered. Zan Nikora, kidnapped and held under threat of death not to himself but to those he holds dearest, is made to choose between the lives of his family on Westerley or the strangers on Leith. His choice is obvious, though far from easy. Reassembling the buried curse takes time, supplies, and testing. He is provided amply with the last two but scarcely with the first. But still he complies. When his madness maker is complete and his existence becomes a potential loose end, it’s not freedom that Zan Nikora tastes, but the poison of his own medicine. Only once the voices in his head have risen above whispers and turned to screams, when his mind can no longer hold secrets worth sharing, does he see his family again. It takes six days*. Six days and Zan Nikora stumbles through Old Town, eyes unseeing, mind riddled with disease—infection spreading. Mod Note: *W3D6. Cure and vaccines will be developed and disseminated beginning on W4D3, but will not be fully administered to all locations until W4D5.

Leith: Pocket Posies

Harvest Week in Leith marks a period of joy and relief. Bazaars are open longer, the ordinary bustle of the business day replaced with celebration and festivities throughout the evening hours. Vendors offer games for adults and children alike, the sky is a constant wash of soft pinks, purples, and greens from holographic firework shows, and music fills the air from different stages. All walks of life are welcome to join in the merriment, just so long as they have the right to be there. Anyone suspected of an invalid visa or citizenship papers are dealt with harshly, but quietly. Tucked away into the darkness of a holding cell like all of Leith’s more problematic elements. It is a time of peace and relief, this week, and they will not abide disruption. But within the hallowed days of celebration, a sickness grows, incubating. Spreading. First, it begins with an ache deep within the muscles. The body tires too quickly, the flesh burns with a blanket of rising fever. Whispers skirt at the edge of hearing, unintelligible but audible, filling the audio cortex with illusions and lies. Food loses its appeal, though the body yearns dearly for energy it cannot hold, and breathing becomes tighter, harder. Next the tide of high fevers, of lethargy. The brain devolves into paranoia and mania, the mind races with delusions and hallucinations. Pain follows, a pain that seems to emanate from every nerve without relief or pause, seeping through the muscles and aching within the very bones of a person. Some may wish for death, and for many, that wish will be granted in an unending sleep when the fatigue pulls darkness across the mind, plunges the last thoughts of a person into static slumber. But not all will succumb so readily, and therein is the weakness that ultimately shelved P43X during its initial creation. Its impacts are not uniform—while much of the population suffers dearly, most are sustained with timely medical interventions, and many others recover with the prowess of their own immune system. For Leith, bountiful in money and supplies, most of P43X’s more fatal properties are circumvented or delayed. But even in this lush world of affluence and peace, there are the poor, the underprivileged, and the weak. They are not afforded the same haste of care, the same salvation. Instead, they’re given graves of sanitizing fires, and their bodies turn to ash.

Resistance: Sleeping Dogs

The chaos of the festivities that go along with Harvest Week provides the perfect cover for the Resistance to begin moving once again. New cells need to be formed in the wake of so many executions and new members need to be recruited. Info brokers with Resistance-leaning sympathies have an opportunity to make a little extra joy by putting the disconnected sympathizers in contact with one another, aiding the vetting of Company insiders that need new handlers within the organization. For Resistance members already embedded within, they need to work now to find new locations to store what supplies remain and to begin rebuilding the stockpiles of weapons and supplies re-confiscated by the Company. Some may have heard of abandoned mines or facilities that can be retrofitted out in the Badlands while others are needed to track down rumors of Company made fallout shelters located within the under-city tunnels. For this, Company moles are essential - the only hope of accessing these shelters is with long forgotten Company passcodes. And the Scarbacks, well. Everyone’s heard rumors that there are many within their ranks willing to help with recruitment and contraband transportation, though there’s little the Company can do to restrict their movements at this time. Because of this, Scarbacks may also be the only ones that have a chance of getting into Leith once the quarantines go into effect. Those already aligned with the rebellion will be tasked with coordinating supply movements, making a deal or three with the devil on behalf of those unwilling to back down from the promises of the Accords. Caution and purpose should drive their movements because if the True Leithian attack is any indication… those nationalists are not going to let go of their precious land and status without a long, bloody fight.

The RAC: Holding Pattern

Warrants still flow in with a regular consistency - enough to keep the average team or agent quite busy. Every harvest season there are visa jumpers that need to be caught and low-level warrants claiming petty theft from farms by Westie migrants. The increasing number of disturbances and crimes in Old Town guarantee a plethora of local warrants to capture criminals across the moon or those that managed to escape an Enforcer’s arrest. Some, however, have either been requested by Seyah Kendry herself or volentold by their seniors within the RAC to conduct investigations into the attack on the Nine. And not all of these investigations are on the Lady’s behest. Some of the Nine aren’t quite willing to take Land Kendry’s word as law and have quietly requested their own investigations into the attack in Old Town and the Land Derrish misfortunes. (MOD NOTE: There will be a comment thread for teams to sign up for the specialized plot related warrants on the monthly warrant post, located HERE. Once teams have posted for a plot warrant, the mods will give them a location and focused assignment.)

Comments

[refactor]

[ Sui Fend would definitely be forgiven if this was the interview she was looking forward to the least. Handsome Jack was a character to put it very politely, and he was especially colorful for a company man. He was colorful enough that if not for his competence and skill, he probably would have met Sui Feng under different circumstances. He wasn't disloyal (in fact, the opposite), but his methods were often eccentric. Which was also putting it lightly.

Yet even so, it fits the man. Rather than nervousness that most people would feel at being called to meet Sui Feng, he steps into the room with confidence and a smooth smile. Maybe not as smooth as he would personally like, because, well. Truth be told, the times they'd brushed elbows in the past had always left Jack excited for the next time he'd see her. It's kind of weird, considering most of their interactions tended to be Jack being obnoxious while Sui Feng threatened to kill him, but. He had a type. So he has a little crush, sue him. ]

Heyyy, long time no see, Sui Feng.

[ At least she's free from one of Jack's quirks, and that's his obnoxious nicknames... He takes a seat, though it's more like sprawling across it casually. ]

Y'know, if you wanted to catch up, you can just call. Text. Whatever, you get my point here.

[ ...Though the trade off is that he's going to flirt. Badly. ]

[homonka]

[ In a less formal circumstance, she might meet his cavalier attitude with a sneer or rolled eyes, but as is, she simply lifts her head, gaze tracking him like a predatory cat as he enters the room.

Not seeing the man, the smile, but the target she hasn't yet been ordered to strike.

(But has quite often fantasized about killing nonetheless. She has a murder crush, it's similar?) ]

The only thing I intend to catch today is a traitor, Mr. Martel.

[ Regarding his improper position with a faint curl of her lip, she turns her attention back to the digital screen below her hands, scrolling through a series of his most recent intake reports. As much as she considers the prospect of cutting his tongue out appealing, she doubts she'll find anything worth recommending his termination.

He may be irritating, but he's good at his job. Dedicated. Just conniving enough to fit into the political niche of Company work without making too many enemies in the process.

Pity. ]

Explain the circumstances by which you came to work for The Company. I see that you requested your assignment voluntarily.

[refactor]

[ She's always chilly, and that's never a problem for Jack. The other party may not exactly share the sentiment, but he always likes people with temperaments that run cooler. In his head, it makes it all the more satisfying when they recognize him for his greatness, but in practice, it's more like that just gives him plenty of opportunity to talk. He likes the sound of his own voice, and he's a natural conversationalist. ]

Eh, fair enough. But, I mean, still, after, if you want, I can totally—

[ He starts on that course of conversation with a grin, but he stops rather abruptly at her question. His smile drops into a frown that's displeased, but softly so. Jack reaches up to rub the back of his neck, then sits back as he crosses his arms. ]

...Can I ask why you wanna know about that?

[homonka]

It's a standard question, Mr. Martel.

[ And it is -- when sussing out traitors from your ranks, it's often best to start at the beginning of their association with the organization. Jack had been particularly involved in the pursuit of the True Leithians--too involved, some might say.

Willingness to do what is necessary is not, in her mind, a trait worthy of suspicion, but pausing over a question like that?

It's an interesting reaction. Not necessarily a condemning one, but interesting. Decidedly more human than most of her interactions with him have been. Oh, he's plenty personable, but he's never truly personal.

It takes every ounce of professionalism not to smirk and show overt delight at this potential thread of weakness. But she manages, face still stoic, mouth unchanged from its thin line of disregard. ]

I appreciate that this might be difficult for you to answer, but you'll need to do so nonetheless.

[refactor]

[ Jack stares back at her for a few moments in a silence that feels uncharacteristic for him. Considering how it's hard to get Jack to ever stop talking, his silences end up being unintentionally more poignant. His expression isn't quite hardened, but it's clear that it's an uncomfortable subject for him.

The pause comes because he's weighing his options here. It's not the first time someone's asked, but it's something that Jack can usually dance his way around. He has a silver tongue, and while he doesn't always use that skill intentionally, when it comes to difficult subjects that he doesn't want to talk about, he'll use it shamelessly. But usually, the people asking aren't from intelligence. He could even manage to dance around the subject with superiors, but this was a different ballgame entirely.

He realizes that if he's not forthcoming here, a misunderstanding could send him through his own facility. So he sighs, and shrugs dismissively. ]

Long story short, mom and dad skimped out on their loyalty, dumped me with grandma. Grandma wanted me to become a Scarback, and she was really big on discipline. Forget to wash the dishes, get a buzzsaw to the back, forget to make the bed, she drowns my cat. That kind of thing. So I started working for the Company as soon as I could. Just wanted to move out.

[ As he explains, Jack's voice isn't quite detached, but it's not emotional. His issues with his family are ones that he feels are fairly old, so he can relay that with a coolness that makes it almost sound like it happened to someone else. But he knows that's not the same for the rest of the story, and so that part he tries to weasel out of. He hates grandma. That's simple. But getting into why he wanted a transfer isn't. ]

That good enough?

[homonka]

[ Absently, she wonders if they chose her for this interview in particular. For this moment: when a man bears part of his soul and she observes it with a clinical, uncaring eye. Sui Feng does not judge or form a personal opinion on Jack's evidently difficult childhood, she merely listens, analyzing the story for weak points.

Someone else would likely have an emotional reaction, and they should. It's human to feel for other members of your species. Empathy, she's heard it called.

But Sui Feng was not made to be merely human, and it seems as if her designers left out that crucial aspect of her brain. When she gauges him, she's studying him like a potential combatant, noting the rigidity of his posture, the tightening of muscles as he speaks, the rhythm and inflection of his voice.

So her response is simple, matter of fact. True detachment to match his near stoicism. ]

I see. Yes, that answers half my question.

[ Fingers leaving the screen to lace together, the Qreshi tilts her head slightly, gaze narrowed thoughtfully. ]

But only half. People seldom volunteer for Westerley. [ And why would they? This place is a cesspool of genetics. ] Fewer yet volunteer to work at Prisoner Intake. Why did you?

[refactor]

[ Jack isn't sure how to take her response to the first part of his story. It's cold, even for her, and he thinks to himself that this must be what separates intelligence from the rest of the idiots. One step away from a robot, if her impassive gaze was any indication. But he doesn't feel irritated over that.

There's a certain point in Jack's history where he hates looking back, and it's the points that she's asking about. One, there's the simple fact that they're not easy memories for Jack. Even with his odd, eccentric, and unhinged personality, there's still a man underneath that mask, though it's almost like he tries to forget that. But two, he hates talking about those events because of how other people react. Pity angered him and sympathy made him uncomfortable, so her reaction (or lack thereof) is probably the best one he could hope for.

But still, nothing?

His brow furrows with more emotion now, but it's not really at her. It's for the rest, though he's irritated that she's pushing. He doesn't see how this matters at all. ]

Still don't see how this is relevant. Gotta point that out here. But, yeah, sure, you wanna know my whole life story, fine. It's because some goddamn Westie piece of shit butchered my wife. Left my daughter for dead. Just for the- what, hundred Joy, tops, in our house?

[ Grandma may be a subject that Jack can approach coolly, but not this one. It's clear that this is one that still burns just as hot, even though it was easily over ten years ago by now. ]

I requested a transfer because I knew scum like that wouldn't be able to avoid the Facility forever. I'm just a Company man from Westerley. No way I was getting a warrant at all, much less a kill warrant. So, just to not mince words here? You and I both know the in betweens I take care of that the Company politely looks the other way on. [ He points at her data pad ] That first infraction I know you've gotta have on a file somewhere there. The super vague slap on the wrist one? That's for him. No one gives a crap when some Westie dies, good or bad. That's why I'm at Intake.

[homonka]

[ This time, there is a reaction--a masked one, but something visceral nonetheless. Something raw.

It's not immediate, not triggered with a simple word like a spell to unearth her emotions. Rather, it creeps insidiously alongside his answer, leaves pinpricks down her spine as it unfurls and sinks into her flesh.

At first, she thinks it's anger. Her lips purse faintly, almond eyes narrowing in cold regard. But no, it's not quite anger. It's too detached for that, too removed from herself.

(Sui Feng traces a pattern idly on the table, a smooth curve, a stem, the bell of a flower.)

What then?

Looking up at this man who has shuffled off his cool in favor of emotion, Sui Feng blinks, registers the sensation in her.

Disgust.

Still, her voice is as cool as ever, the echoes of emotion drowned out by the care with which she speaks. Stealth, as always, is her specialty. ]

It sounds as if you volunteered in order to play god over the lives of prisoners, Mr. Martel.

[ She may be ruthless, but she is a creature of the law, a firm believer in order. For a human to nominate themselves as the hand of judgment over life..

Why does that bother her so much? ]

It also seems that you find your work.. fulfilling. So why did you leave your station to pursue the insurgents who attacked the Family Registry Bureau? Surely someone with less responsibility could have done so in your stead.

[refactor]

God?

[ He scoffs, then sits back as he dismissively waves his hand. ]

Please. It's nothing like that. They're coming through the facility, they're screwed regardless. That's true for every sector, not just mine. You wanna talk about people playing God, that's just the people puttin' out warrants in the first place. Going through Intake is just a formality. Westhole doesn't exactly have a high survival rate in the first place.

[ He enjoys the power, sure, and he enjoys the violence even more, but he's being honest when he says it's nothing like a god complex. Not to him, at least. But arguing about the ethical failings of the Company isn't what he's here for, so he moves on with her to the Bureau. That comes with a more casual shrug. ]

Yeah, sure could have. But no one did. I waited as long as I felt was necessary, then got the ball rolling. I pursued it because, uh, duh, it actually friggin' matters to me. Tagged along for funsies. Some people take leave for Harvest Week to go make some drunk mistakes, I take mine to go make sure a job gets done right.

[homonka]

[ Formality or not, it's not his place to decide when and where a prisoner should meet their end. He is not judge, jury, and executioner. The laws of their society require obedience and understanding of one's place--but she supposes that ire is better directed at the RAC.

The Company, after all, has no authority on which warrants are approved. It's those agents of dissent, killjoys who disrupt the natural order of things, their presence an affront to the law of the land.

People like Jack are just a symptom of the systemic sickness in their ranks.

And she, just as him, is not judge or jury. Her qualifications only fall within the realm of executioner. So for this reason Sui Feng pushes her irritation away, that strange miasma within her, calming her nerves into dead silence once more as she listens to him.

(It's not like her to have an emotional response in these situations--she'll have to examine it, but later. Now is not the time.) ]

I see. And why did it matter so much to you?

[ Not that she doesn't have the idea behind it--Westies are always so anxious about that foolish promise made by her betters--but there's a method to this, a craft to discerning the make and break point of loyalties.

She suspects, with some measure of the earlier joy, she may have found a lead on his. ]

[refactor]

[ This conversation is really starting to piss him off.

He liked Sui Feng, but it was in the way that he likes any woman that threatens to kill him. He has a thing for "bad girls," so sue him. His wife hadn't been a woman like that at all, so he'd veered as sharply to the opposite in his tastes as possible. He wasn't the kind of widow that would be okay with being alone for the rest of his life, but he could never be with anyone like her again either. So. It was people like Angelika, Sui Feng, any other women that were cold to him that tended to catch his attention.

Of course, the problem was, that coldness wasn't always appreciated. He's remembering that now as something bubbles up hotly in his gut. Anyone that can ask that kind of question, even if it's just digging, which he knows it is, that's something Jack hates. He's used to being looked down on, since that's the hand he was dealt. The problem is that ignorance, because even if it's fake, he's so set on changing the cards that the question of why he would want to protect the Accords makes him angry. Jack's grateful for the mask, because it hides how his face is getting red, because he can feel it. His tone is measured, as if just behind that colder tone of his own, there's some kind of upset. ]

Come on. You're not an idiot. Why is any Westie working for the Company going to care that much?

[ He dances around actually answering in specifics, because he doesn't know how much Sui Feng knows. If she's ignorant of her existence, Jack has no intention of revealing the fact that Angel is still alive to her. ]

I'm just one of the people that can do anything about it. Most of the people the Company's got on the hook? No way.

[homonka]

[ There's a certain language in violence, a cadence to its words that lends itself to the ears of the initiated. For most, violence speaks in a dialect too esoteric to track for more than a moment, too parsed with the subjective coloring of the listener to divine the message within.

But then some carry the tongue fluently, bear the weight of its vowels and consonant as surely as the word mother, and all other languages become the second or third with violence the lingua franca between them.

Sui Feng is one such speaker. So she does not interpret emotion or seek understanding in tones of voice as Jack speaks, does not peer into the nuance of word choice. She watches and hears the tension of muscles, the crack of a jaw, the set of teeth.

The intent, or lack thereof, to act.

Thus it's the same automatic, cool response to his returned volley, for in that carefully measured tone she detects no plans of attack, no promises of fight or flight (it's always fight; turning your back and running isn't much of a strategy).

A slow blink, an unchanging expression even in light of the admission she sought being given so freely. ]

Yes, I thought as much.

[ The Accords are the make of his remarkable efficiency then. Perhaps not the whole of it, but critical. A key foundation.

Something that can easily turn to the break, with the right pressure. ]

What are your plans once the Accords are settled then? Will you remain as an employee, or perhaps you intend to settle down, start a little farm of your own?

[refactor]

[ At least she stops pushing, and that's something that Jack is grateful for. Not to her, necessarily, but for himself. He has a temper that burns naturally hot, and it's only because of the knowledge of the consequences that could follow here that he's held his tongue and composure this much. If she were someone passing through his facility mouthing off like this? He'd kill her. But unfortunately, that will never happen. He could probably count the times that a Qreshi has come through Intake on one hand. Even when they do stuff worthy of being there, they always manage to weasel out of it at the last moment.

Her question also helps calm his temper, because he scoffs, but it's with a crack of his smile that's genuinely more wry. ]

What, you think I look like a farmer? Nah. I hate nature.

[ He's blunt and honest, because that part doesn't matter. He has his plan for after laid out perfectly in his head, but it's the kind of plan that would probably get her seriously coming after his head. Jack shrugs, then gives the answer that he always does. It's perfectly smooth, because once, this had been his hope. It's just grown since. ]

Stay with the Company, probably. I'm a tech guy, and if you wanna work tech, there's, uh, not many options. Management is just something I'm good at, tripped into, found out that I could do more, so I ran with it. [ Another shrug, but this one is lazier ] So probably stay in management positions. I can code all day, but it's anonymous. That's- Well, that's just not my style anymore.

[homonka]

[ He seems so certain of the Accords, but perhaps that is the nature of hope and ambition. A sort of relentless optimism that looks not into the possibility of failure but instead hinges on the prospects of success. It, like so many of his traits, would be admirable in anyone else.

To her, here and now, it strikes her as a Proletarian folly, an inherent handicap in the lowest rungs of the social ladder. The Accords are widely regarded as one of the more foolish promises of their ancestors, and while she’s certain they will be maintained for the sake of order (--surely that will be the case, they are imperative to the stability of the system in place here--), Sui Feng very much doubts that Jack will be among those to prosper from it.

They will find a reason, perhaps even by her recommendation, to keep him trapped within contractual cycles, and then..

She is sure that his admitted tendency towards the loud will draw her back here again.

(It won’t be fair, not in the slightest--but the world isn’t fair. Those are just the silly ideas of the powerless.) ]

Yes, you do seem a very loud man.

[ She almost sounds warm when she says that--at least, by her normal standards--the tinge of amusement clear in her voice, the more schadenfreude tendencies of her personality bleeding through for a moment.

(Nothing is ever fair; it wasn’t to her, why should it be to others?) ]

But we’re getting off-topic. Let’s move our attention back to the matter at hand. Walk me through your time on Leith in pursuit of the insurgents.

[ A small wave of her hand over the screen. ]

The reports wouldn’t do it justice.

[ And are, so very often, facsimiles of the original lies told, quarters of already halved-truths. ]

[refactor]

[ The warmth doesn't fool him in the slightest. It's not exactly like she's trying to hide it, at least so far as he can tell, but the thing is, she's not the first to show him this kind of condescending warmth. He knows it well, because even if he's made more of himself than most Westies would, he still carries his place of birth like it's a disfiguring scar, or at least it is to his "betters." He's just a Westie that'll never ascend past the station that the Company so kindly gives him.

But, hey. That suits him just fine. If they underestimate him or laugh in the face of his ambition, then that's going to make it all the sweeter when it's realized. His ambition is delusion, but that's what makes Jack a dangerous man. He absolutely believes that his dreams are attainable. There's no room for self-doubt in his lofty dreams. ]

Yeah, of course, off topic. [ His eyes are sharp again, and he smiles, but it's not exactly kind when he quips. ] Just answerin' your questions, sweetheart. So. Yeah, Leith—

[ At which point Jack explains just what happened on Leith for him to lead a small hunt for the perpetrators. He actually explains it fairly well and in detail, and maybe surprisingly, it's all done absolutely by the book. Jack is vicious, and he doesn't shy away from admitting that he personally killed people along the way, but he knows where the line is. He won't step over it, because he knows that when it comes to the Company, he's playing a dangerous game by dancing at the edge. He has no illusions that as soon as they decide they don't like what he's doing, he'll end up meeting someone like Sui Feng again in a different context.

Though for the actual capture itself, Jack does seem fairly proud of himself with how he speaks of it. It's only one, but it's still one person that he can blame for the Bureau. The Company is pretty happy for it too, all things considered, and it's what makes Jack's reports so odd. For all his eccentricities, his ruthlessness, and his underhanded dealings... He works hard, and he turns out good results with nearly everything he does. ]

[homonka]

[ The same quality that often irritates her makes Jack a particularly entertaining storyteller. Idly, she wonders if all men driven by the manic edge of ambition are so naturally excellent orators, if that quality of spell-speaking and color is written in some twisted segment of their DNA.

(If she knew the depths to which his ambitions truly plunge -- then it would not be absent musing, but certainly that some broken parcel of code lies in the breeding. A mutation to wipe out for the betterment of the species.)

Still, she's apt to listen, a woman well-versed with mincing her own words in favor of allowing others to stride across the proverbial stage. Of his admission to killing (not murder, for that is a legal word, a word which suggests something shameful and against the order of the land), she merely nods, a courteous acknowledgment to what would no doubt be a poor show of execution to her.

When he's finished, glowing with pride for his accomplishments, she rewards him in much the same way, a second nod of confirmation before settling into follow up questions. They bat around words and dance around intentions for a short while, but her search is ultimately as she predicted.

Fruitless. Jack may be annoying to the ends of the Quad but he's a good employee.

Back straight, Sui Feng prepares the next file for interrogation, chin posted against her knuckles as she looks over the screen. ]

Very well, you are dismissed. If I have any further questions, I know where to find you.

[ A beat, tone still casually cold and polite. ]

And Mr. Marten? Should you call me sweetheart again, I'll relieve of you any hopes of starting a family again some day. Slowly.

[ Have a nice day~! ]

1) i'm sorry for the wait 2) i'm even more sorry it was for this

[refactor]

[ At least telling his story and answering questions about it puts him more at ease. Jack is a natural talker and a natural people person, so when it's about his actions, words roll easily and convincingly off his tongue. It's only when they get more personal that he gets more abrasive, so this is easy for him.

When she dismisses him, he looks mildly surprised, as if he was expecting more, but he shrugs easily. He starts to move to get up, but her threat pulls out a wry smile. He seems to be considering his words, maybe considering saying something in response.

Which, naturally, he does. ]

I mean, you'd still be touchin' my junk, so maybe I'm kinda winning in that scenario. [ But since Sui Feng definitely isn't one for jokes at all, he's quick to hold his palms up as if in surrender. He grins cheekily, and adds quickly: ] Joke. Just to make it clear.

[ Jack scoots back in his chair and stands up. He takes a moment to brush off his clothes as if he'd just been busier, even if it's just an idle gesture, but dismissed, he heads to the door. Before he heads out, he at least throws a comment over his shoulder. ]

But, yeah, got it, Sui Feng. No more nicknames 'cause you're Ms. No Fun Allowed. 'Till next time.

[ He gives a showy, affable wave of his hand, but after that, he'll take his leave. ]