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

w3 d6 (?)

[tousei]

[ It's with subdued surprise that he finds out that his partner would be someone who had mentored him a little so long ago. In the midst of a moon filled with death, it's some small reassurance. He's been the same as she might remember him, grey eyes holding nothing but seriousness as a teenager and now as an adult, a soldier with a perfect track record. But at what cost?

He hasn't been looking closely at the faces of the dead, only focused on the DNA test that he's had to do. It's only when she speaks that he looks up, a flash of uncharacteristic uncertainty passing his eyes. ]

... No. I do not.

[ Most of whom he remembers are either superiors not on this disease-riddled moon, or already dead. ]

works for me!

[cauterised]

[Not a surprising answer, almost relieving in some ways, and the tension in her shoulders eases a fraction of an inch. Hard enough to burn a body to ash knowing that person might be someone's mother, sister, friend; harder still to know just whose sister and friend that body might belong to.]

Let's keep it that way then.

[Never too young to bury a friend, but the soft curve of her heart still holds within it some concern. And it's because of that concern that she asks, though they're not truly "friends" yet in the deepest sense of the word:]

You're not worried about catching the virus?

o/

[tousei]

[ It's nothing out of what his occupation demands of him. Obey without question, burn the bodies of people you probably will never know. Justice will be served eventually, but how many will die before that happens?

Maybe it's for the best that they are only acquaintances. The one true friend he made before ended up murdered. ]

I have taken precautions.

[ This he says after a pause. His biological modification gave him immunity (tested, even), so he was allowed to roam free within contaminated grounds. Grey eyes flick from the body passing through his line before returning to her again. ]

And you? Are you well?

[cauterised]

[Another finger punched, another barely decipherable name scrolls by. After twenty or so of them, they barely leave an imprint on her mind.]

Well enough, though I'm leaving my future health to Lady Luck.

[Said with a trace of a smile, though it's sharp rather than humored. Luck isn't something she places much faith in nowadays, not in a world ruled by wealth and good connections. But, by way of actual explanation:]

I had a few spare nanite injections before I came. They won't cure anything, but they should stave off the worst of the symptoms.

[Which is all she can ask for, really. If things progress further than that.....well.]

[tousei]

[ Well.

Someone has to do this job, and he supposes they can't spare anymore (immune) bioweapons for it. It's in times like these that his inhuman nature saves him instead of dooming him. However, she has no such curse. If she falls to the virus, then it will be yet one more undeserving death.

For a moment he looks away, unsure of what to say. Riza is experienced and knows how to handle herself, and she speaks to prove that she's already accepted the possibility of her death. It's something that every good soldier would have done, yet it still sits uneasy with him.

If she died, she wouldn't have died a death fitting for her. ]

... Please be careful.

[ He supposes he doesn't need to say this, but the act of it is hopefully enough to convey his concern. ]

[cauterised]

[She's halfway through lugging yet another body onto the cart - the last for this particular street, thank god - when he speaks, and she's caught off guard enough by his sentiment that her hands freeze for a moment as her gaze flicks over. The pause lasts only half a second before she's back in motion, though this time there's the slightest upward curve to one corner of her lips.

It's not quite a smile, but it's something.]

I'll do my best.

[A genuine answer, in reply to genuine concern. Truly she has no plans of dying just yet. What she would like, however—]

How do you feel about a cup of coffee after this? We're due for a break soon.

[tousei]

[ Words are things he puts much thought into, each sentence turned over and inspected before he offers them. Often, people lose things because of talking too much: status, secrecy, rights. Better to use actions than words to convey his intentions, or not convey them at all if they weren't necessary. ]

Thank you.

[ Again, not something necessary for the task at hand. It's more of his own sentiment that he needs to voice.

Her offer draws a pause from him in turn, and for a moment surprise flickers on his face; then it's gone a moment later as he nods. ]

If it's alright with you, then I would like that.

[ He respects her and spending downtime sounds nice. ]

[cauterised]

[The overture of a cautious friendship linger in the air for a moment before it gently dissipates, letting the clamor of Leith's streets and the heavy atmosphere fall back into place. With a low grunt, Riza hefts the last body into the back of the van before shutting the door with a firm click.]

I know of a place not too far away with good coffee.

[And an admittedly crotchety barista, though she doubts Julius will have any issue against Leo's bluntness.]

Let's get these taken to the morgue and then we can head that way.

[tousei]

[ That's all for the day. They would need to get disinfected afterward, but Riza's suggestion sounds like a good plan. It's better than spending the rest of his day holed up in his room, at least. ]

Alright.

[ Julius lets the silence fall back into place after his affirmation - a comfortable silence, of two people working together to do their jobs. Riza is kind, he thinks; she doesn't expect him to talk too much, which can't be said for a lot of people. ]

After you.

[ He'll follow, as is customary. ]

[cauterised]

[The drive's easy and quick, the overall clean streets of Leith meaning few people have to dart out of the way as they approach, and though the silence between them's rarely broken, it isn't uncomfortable or unnaturally still. Rather, it's the quiet of two coworkers happier to convey meaning through actions rather than words.

Once the bodies are unloaded and handed over, Riza turns to Julius. Behind them, the man in charge gets to work, hefting bodies in through the door with all the ceremony of a meat butcher.]

Ready? There's not much space for a vehicle outside so it'd be best to walk, but we can find a way to make it work if there's some reason you can't manage the walk.

[He seems hale and hearty, still youthful; she can't think of a reason why it wouldn't be alright.]

[tousei]

[ Once their work of delivery is done, Julius turns away faster than she does - its subtle, noticeable only by a careful eye, though it won't be something easily missed by her. ]

I can.

[ He's fine.

Mostly. ]