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

wildcard | party on westerley

[mayora13]

[OOC: let me know if there's anything I need to change ;u;b]

[Receiving a summons on his day off isn't unusual, unfortunately, but it doesn't give him any hope for his budding headache. He'd been sitting in his room, attempting to find the right rerun, when the call came through.

Vague, as it always was.

And here he'd thought he'd get some writing - work related, of course - done today. Because what's a day off how do you do that?

He approaches the meeting room with a sigh, the slacks and shirt of his uniform his clothes for the day, unidentifiable among a crowd but still standard-issue.] You called?

[sunderings]

( ooc; this is great, thank you !! )

[ A day off.

Fact: Sion Astal is under no illusions that one, Hijikata Toushirou, would spend a day off—a holiday well earned, however much the man is reportedly 'disliked'—to repair a report-writing deficit.

Fact: Having taken a shine to the man's work ethic and skill, the Director has appointed himself to carrying out the task of bestowing a 'gift' upon the Officer, something difficult to see and impossible to grasp; something like... ]

So I did. [ ...the warmth of a cordial greeting upon being welcomed into a conference room. Sion Astal is an unusual man, perhaps even rivaling Hijikata himself, efficient but 'too kind' for field work, and as such, someone sequestered away to management and a desk. ] You are the most reliable man I know, Hijikata.

[ In this facet, at least—the one where the man leaves no Company meeting unattended, no stone unturned. ]

Though we are pressed by our own internal audits and affairs, we cannot afford to lose sight of that which surrounds us. [ And here, a slightly apologetic smile. ] As such, I would be grateful for your help in investigating a string of crimes which has recently plagued Old Town.

[mayora13]

[Hijikata regards the 'gift' of a too-friendly greeting with the same impassive stare he'd entered the room with. The warmth in his superior's voice does nothing to melt the icy glaze in his eyes, a mark of the impartial professionalism expected of him.

A compliment he doubts is without expectation is hardly fulfilling to hear, though he takes the confirmation of his performance with a stiff nod. He's not going to argue-

He's the most reliable man he knows too.

And the man he's looking at is the most personable official he knows. The bar's not high, but Sion has never made him want to beat his head into a wall. Would today be the day?]

Of course. Will you be briefing me now? [No mention of his day off and no mention of the bulk of other work he's had piled on him during the audit. It's almost as if he welcomes the directive - something to do with his day aside from pour over the minutiae in paperwork.]

[sunderings]

With pleasure. [ —rings the Director's reply, seamless and without missing a beat. Where Hijikata trends toward the realm of all things dispassionate, Sion is nothing if not candid (pleasantly so!), gesturing for the Officer to please, take a seat with a small flourish of wrist before he procures not one, certainly not two, but most assuredly t h r e e dossiers on local businesses, the documents detailing the losses sustained by each in a fantastic string of robberies. ]

The general store, [ Quite renowned for its 'old fashioned' soda pop. ] the Encore lounge, [ An establishment catering to 'karaoke' enthusiasts. ] and the clinic in the northern quadrant of the slums...

[ A clinic, but also home to the most charming creature in the Quad, a dog by the name of Umbra. It may not be a fact widely known to most, but Umbra's "welcome home" barks and "I am happy to meet you" licks are guaranteed to glean a smile from even the most stoic of men...!!

Even Hijikata does not stand a chance. ]

...all have had supplies taken from their storerooms, and by my personal request, I ask that you investigate each location and unearth the thread of commonality between them.

[ Here, there is a thoughtful pause; a gleam of knowing golden eyes. ]

But perhaps more importantly, I would have you take me as your partner for the day. [ Eh??? But Director??? You issue clearances, delegate Enforcer patrols, and manage training operatives??? What good are you on the ground, anyway? ] It is not often that I've the chance to take on field work, and I would be remiss if I did not seize this opportunity.

[ And then, a joke: ] You'll look after me, won't you?

oh no that dog he's doomed

[mayora13]

[Chipper production of three files should grate on Hijikata's nerves, but he takes his seat with only the smallest of resigned sighs. It's precisely because he doesn't hate the other man's manner that he suspects the authenticity of each pleasantry, though he frowns in the face of false platitudes as well.

Not air-headed and ignorant to the atmosphere nor a false presentation for personal gain, Sion's personality is difficult to dislike. But maybe today would be the day.

Hijikata drags the dossiers across the desk to himself, flipping through the information provided as he listens to the briefing. He recognizes the general store, he's purchased tobacco there before, but the lounge and clinic are unfamiliar. Those files receive deeper perusal; he looks up only after his mission is stated.

But he doesn't have time to utter a standard 'understood' and begin his work. Instead he catches something in Sion's eyes that makes him pause-

The secret kept is immediately revealed, but Hijikata can't hide his concern. The man's eyebrows furrow, head tilting in the first expression he's worn since he walked into the room.] Mmhm- [It would be insubordinate to argue, so even with his suspicion of the other's physical capabilities pressing in his mind, Hijikata agrees with a clear of his throat.

Accepting though he's forced to be, there are necessary questions-

He takes that joke seriously.] Will you be bringing a weapon? [First and foremost - though he's not sure if a 'yes' or 'no' would be more worrisome.]

kfufufufu steeples fingers

[sunderings]

[ 'Mmhm' the Officer replies, though from the glint to the Director's eyes—a fleeting, hopeful something, like the flapping of a sparrow's wings, there and gone in an instant—the man very well might have said absolutely, we will depart at once! with unprecedented gusto and an expression to match...! But as it is, Sion is colored several shades of pleased, and as much is conveyed in the clasping of his hands, his fingers artfully lacing together at his front in a small gesture of thanks—really, it has been so very, very long since his last opportunity to venture beyond Company walls, and what's more, now he's the chance to share it with someone. Someone who... he felt kindred to, in the most odd of ways, for where Hijikata is hailed (and revered) as the 'Demon Officer'...

On more than one occasion, has Sion been called the 'Demon Administrator of Westerley'.

And perhaps that is what enables him to answer, without missing a beat: ] I have never needed to carry a weapon before.

[ Though whether such a statement is a testament to some hidden prowess or a simple lack of experience with Company standard firearms remains unsaid, if only because the Director sees no reason to elaborate unless it is requested of him.

(Rather like Hijikata, who acts only upon what is necessary. In this way, perhaps they are both practical men.) ]

Which establishment will we be paying visit to first? [ Curious, he lofts a silvered brow high, wondering at what strategy is presently unfurling in the other man's mind; what course of action he might take. ]

[mayora13]

[It's with a tense jaw that Hijikata swallows a deep sigh. A vague answer spares him the concern of both 'what if this guy gets caught unarmed' and 'can this guy even handle a gun', but does nothing to reassure him. The conclusion the officer settles on, as his fingers release their tight grip on the dossiers, clicking the files against Sion's desk, is that this man has always been under heavy guard.

He should be honored to be considered skilled enough to carry out the task on his own, but the bestowed confidence only gives him the budding of a headache in his brow.

His superior appears eager for this venture - something he feels as if he'll need to remind the man is a job not a sightseeing trip, given the glint in his eyes - and Hijikata is not one to waste time. Before answering he stands, pushes in his chair, and waits for Sion to do the same.

He's already constructed a plan, the course of action almost routine in it's application. Teeth worry his lip in want of a cigarette before he responds, having promised himself one the moment they exit the facility.] The store. They're more likely to have surveillance footage. But before that, I need to get my equipment.

We'll meet at the northern doors. [Strict in his adherence to policy and expectations Hijikata may be, but he's never quite managed to quell his instinct to take control.]

[sunderings]

Very well. [ —he assents, fluid in his rise to his feet, finding the other man's odd balance between expressing deference (to him) and taking command (of the assignment) a too-charming thing. There are others who would not dare to dictate the when and where, Enforcers who would plead to him forgive me, but that is your decision, Sir, and so Hijikata's brevity and decisive nature is thoroughly refreshing, although...! By no means is the Director without his own voice, even if the upper echelons of the Company have dictated otherwise, for--...

It is true, what Hijikata suspects: Sion Astal is never without a security detail, but with the Company under internal audit and Harvest Week in full swing, there are few Enforcers to spare for such a thing. And so, the Director may move freely (or, at least, in some close approximation thereof), and it is in these moments when he feels more human and less of a chess piece.

(Nothing at all like the 'priceless' study of of synthetic biology he'd been designed to be.) ]

The equipment you carry must camouflage well with civilian attire. [ What had that been, about their outing not being a sightseeing trip...? ] You'll be wearing it.

[ Company black has a penchant for standing out in a crowd, garnering unnecessary attention and animosity both. When conducting such a sensitive investigation, is it not practical to do so incognito...?

(Read: Sion Astal is enamored with elaborate disguises and costuming.) ]

If you should not have any casual clothing of your own— [ Truth be told, it would not surprise Sion if Hijikata owned only several very tailored pairs of his uniform. ] —I will be happy to provide you with wardrobe.

[ It should be just a touch unnerving, how eager the Director seems. ]

[mayora13]

[It's a reminder he doesn't think he needs - Hijikata's stride continues, boots snapping against the ground as he crosses to the door. Already set in the mission's requirements, it's difficulty, and thus his choice of armament, the dawning meaning of his superior's specification weighs on the back of his neck and presses his head forward - pristine posture compromised.

But only for a moment.]

I'll follow you, then. [He holds the door open for Sion to exit first, and lead the way. Hijikata does own casual clothing, but it's nothing appropriate to wear on the job. Low cut shirts and sweat pants, purchased for the comfort his own quarters afford and little more would give him none of the utility necessary should things grow contentious. Which they typically do - his personality withstanding, the climate in Old Town only grows more hostile by the day.

For a foolish moment, Hijikata visualizes clothing in the Company cut and function in 'varied' colors - khaki, green, grey, navy. Drab to match the city's streets. But there's a glimmer of something too eager in the man's voice. As if he'd cast a line and Hijikata has now taken the bait.

As they walk, the man's imagination spirals - from torn up jackets to service uniforms, from bright print to shoulder-baring tanks with unsubtle accessories - he's working through every fashion disaster he can imagine as they walk, so nothing surprises him.]