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

sion.

[ex_infantry157]

[ he arranges for them to meet a coffee shop, one that is tucked into a corner of old town, small but still frequented by locals. it’s quiet, but not too quiet, that would make their conversation easy to overhear. the table he has chosen is towards the back of the establishment, away from the bar. he does draw a couple of curious glances from patrons, but their gaze flits away once he decides to meet it with his own.

the door at the front of the store chimes, signaling a new arrival, and he doesn’t smile at the sight of his sibling, but gives a small, pleased nod.

as the other sits : ] Sion, I trust you have been well.

[ well, and not drawing unnecessary attention to himself within the company. he is not so blind not to know where sion’s sympathy lies, and where his ambitions are. his brother cares too deeply, too much, for those around him. which would not be a flaw in a perfect world.

but it is in this one. ]

Do you know why I’ve called you here?

[sunderings]

[ Sion smiles where his brother does not, golden eyes warming at the sight of him—it is not often that they've the chance to indulge in idle, simple things such as familial companionship; they are two men defined by their work, each given to their own pursuits, their own cause. Ravus is a man changed by the loss of their parents, their inheritance, and Sion's heart... he'd given it away long ago, to the Westies he fought dearly to champion within Company walls. How very long has it been, since he'd dressed down in plain clothes, taking the day to patron a coffee shop by day (bar by night) with someone dear to him...?

When he sits, he studies Ravus' face, searching out signs of exhaustion. ]

I do not imagine it was for the coffee.

[ If it could even be called as much, watered down as it is (much like the drinks at night).

Still, Sion lofts an eyebrow high, and while his expression is playful, solemn notes color his voice: ]

Could it be that you are in need of my help?

[ex_infantry157]

[ sion smiles easily, and he wonders if it’s a sign of the other’s strength, that he can manage to do so even in a world like this one— where ravus’s father could cast aside his mother without so much as a second thought. he has wondered how sion can smile at him, without resentment given the actions of his father, it would be easy to transfer the blame to him. if he were in sion’s place, he can not say that he would be able to sit across from him and exchange pleasantries.

though, that is a difference in their nature. he has always held onto his bitterness, used is to foster his own strength. he thinks that sion’s strength is born from a kinder emotion, a kinder sentiment.

he waits a moment, to answer the question, while a server places their drinks on the table between them before leaving. an overly sugared drink for sion, plain coffee for himself. ]

No. [ even if he was in need of help, he would not call on sion for aid. would likely suffer the burden of whatever should fall on his shoulders himself. ] Only to extend a word of caution.

You must be careful Sion, the Company is now looking within to find who aided the True Leithians.

[ they will suspect us brother, goes unsaid. ]

[sunderings]

[ Coffee with sugar, with cream.

Silver lashes hood over golden eyes as Sion blinks down at the drink, surprised that Ravus remembered his preference for such a thing. It is not often that the Director cares to eat, much less think to spoil himself with confections and treats, but as a child, growing up on Leith, how he'd always ask his elder brother and sister for sweets. And, of course, they would always oblige, allowing Sion—even for just a moment in time—to be a child, doted upon and protected by those who came before him.

Ravus, he had never been anything like their father, though...

Just as their father had fallen victim to his own avarice, Sion fears a day may come when he loses his brother to some similar, self-made demise. Ravus is strong, and made so by his pride, but their family name—their attachment to Leith—cannot define him, and his brother must see this truth one day, lest he lose more than an arm.

But this, of course, Sion does not say—he has voiced the sentiment time and time again, and today is for two bothers coming together. For sipping coffee (the taste is palatable, but it is the company which makes the drink sweet) and for ensuring that his brother does not forget himself. ]

Our ties to Leith have all but been burned. [ And it is Ravus, perhaps, who knows this better than any of the three siblings which remain. ] But they will still look to us, question us because of our rank. We must set an example for others.

[ A hum, airy and light: ] And you must think of how distraught I would be, if I could not be of use to you, were you in need of aid.

Promise me, that you will regard me as an ally from hereon.

[ For however much Sion fondly nurses his sugar-sweet drink, he isn't a child any longer. He hasn't been since the day he'd been sent to the military, meant to become an instrument for the Company: a goodfaith gift from their father to the regime of the Nine. ]

[ex_infantry157]

[ it is a true statement, their ties to the moon have been all but burned. should either of them return to leith, to the manor where they were raised, they would not be welcome. they have no claim to it, or the land it sits upon, despite being raised there. despite it holding the last memories of them all together as a family, along with the last memories of his mother. sion is like her, in a way. though she had been kind, gentle, had not known hardship or suffering until the end. sion had experienced hardship, has chosen a path for himself that is not kind.

it is said on leith, that it brings shame on a family for their sons and daughters to have calloused hands. to do the jobs of the poor, like offering themselves to the military. even though they are both sons of leith, carry the blood of the nine, both of them now have calloused hands. and sion, sion had volunteered himself for something that ravus would have never chose for him. would have put a stop to if he could. he knows that sion has been… altered. had offered himself for more than just military training, but. even now, he only sees his brother, and nothing of what has been done to him.

a boy instead of a weapon, his brother instead of a monster.

he takes a slow drink of his coffee, considering his next words. how to respond. he could lie of course, say that if he were in ever of need for it, he would summon sion to him. but that would be a lie. with his last breath, he would not request sion’s presence, even if it meant dying alone. ]

That I cannot promise you. [ said plainly. ] To do so would be a disservice to the trust we have. I would not lie to what family I have left.

If I should fall, you must be left standing. To carry on our name, and to see to Lunafreya. That is your duty, do not forget it.

[sunderings]

No, Ravus. [ —with an artful motion, fluid in its grace, he sees his cup of coffee returned to the table before them, his hands now free to clasp Ravus' own in a gesture so ginger, so heartbare, that it would surely command the one beneath it to fall still; fall silent, if only for a moment. And as easily as Sion's touch finds the back of his brother's right hand, his fingers curling about it in a gentle squeeze, so too does it find the other man's left, the warmth of Sion's palm touching to polished steel, its cool metallic finish. ] It is not our name, but our family which must live on, and you are my one and only brother.

With these hands you have looked after me, caught me, and lifted me up. It is time now that you allow me to return the care which you have always shown me.

[ He has always spoken easily of these things, of care of trust; of love between family, and how it had kept a trio of siblings—each equally stubborn, wont to do as their own view of the world demanded—together despite all else. Sion and Ravus, who persevered and survived through sheer force of will, and Lunafreya who had blossomed into her own despite all adversity.

That's why--... ]

Do not speak of your demise so easily. [ There is a flicker of pain, to Sion's expression, a flash of heartache when made to fathom a day when he and Ravus may not exist together, as they always had, Sion glancing up to glimpse and find both assurance and acknowledgement in his brother's eyes. ] Think of your duty to both Lunafreya and I-- you must live, and live wholeheartedly, so that we might follow your example.

[ His fingers curl a little more tightly, a touch more desperately, about Ravus' hands— ]

I... cannot see a future without you in it.