Chapter 3

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week IV, Day VII - Week VI, Day VI
Summary: Chapter 3 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. Calendar information/dates can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Promises Unmade

Using the increase in unrest, as so many opportunists do, those within the Nine who seek to pursue their own agendas - whether that be family prestige, personal gain, or systematic upheaval - will find bountiful footholds to secure their positions. Land Kendry continues to assert itself as a leader in these troubling times, with Land Derrish falling in tow. Their first target, Land Hyponia, is shaken, careful not to make any mistakes that could crumble the already cracked mortar holding them together with the nobility. Aggressive though Land Derrish may have been, their sights have moved elsewhere, now focusing on driving forward oppressive legislation to replace the Seventh Generation Accords, rather than further eroding the power of Land Hyponia. Kendry is looking to control a functioning oligarchy, not cause a war over the territory that would be up for grabs should Land Hyponia fall. With the announcement of the Seventh Generation accords confirming already widespread rumors, those within the Nine are careful to place blame for the decision on the activities of the Resistance. For many, this is a believable conclusion, as the attacks by the True Leithans shook society at its core on both Westerley and Leith. Being a radical group, their intentions have been conflated with those of the Resistance in the eyes of many. Discourse on the subject isn't uncommon, but any within the Nine who seek a different target of blame best do so quietly, as dissent from within could quickly have one labeled a sympathizer of the unjust cause of the Resistance. On the surface a harmless placating measure taken by the Nine, the new PDDs being distributed through the Quad are touted as the pinnacle of communication technology. While some higher ranking Company officials and members of the nobility may already have access to quick and reliable network connection, these capabilities are now universal with the installation of the Meshwork. The Meshwork will enable all characters to interact in real time via text, video, or voice, but it isn't without side effects. For some reason, characters who frequently use their PDDs or who are in areas of heavily concentrated network use may suffer from headaches, nosebleeds, blurred vision, and/or dizziness, with more severe side effects including temporary blindness, loss of balance, short-term memory loss, and hallucinations. Connection of these symptoms to the PDDs is not the most common diagnosis, as many think the afflictions are a result of the aftershocks of P43X.

The Company: Balancing Act

With clean up from the P43X attack not yet completed, all Company officials should expect to have no singular responsibility, and little time for sleep, as they find the expectations levied upon them to only grow. Frayed nerves can create a hostile working environment, though anyone could be on the receiving end of any outbursts. The streets have returned from their throes of death with new life, but the city's usual clamor is being overtaken by the roar of protest. Some are peaceful demonstrations; some are violent riots, every display a reaction to the repeal of the Seventh Generation Accords. …At least, that’s what it says on paper, the docket that many Company officials receive outlining simple but brutal crowd control and suppression tasks. Whether a bar has been taken over as a hub of dissent, a street corner filled with unmoving protestors, or a Company affiliated storehouse raided, there's plenty to do for those tasked with keeping the peace. You may simply wish to make arrests, or you may welcome the chance to get your hands dirty - the law is on your side, and all voices daring to oppose the order of things need silenced. Those who don't take to the streets will likely find themselves on border control duty, checking the identification and supply dossiers of all incoming and outgoing ships. No one gets in, or out, without the proper clearance. Ship-wide searches have become standard practice, producing storerooms overflowing with contraband. Some may welcome the chance for banal organization, while others may take some 'bonus compensation' for themselves. With the tightening of rules comes the increase of bribery, and Company officials looking to line their pockets will find their opportunities in surplus. Get caught, however, and there's no second-chances. Although the Company audits have concluded, tensions only grow, and anyone found helping those with diverging agendas will be punished swiftly, cast in with the rest of the dissenters.

Westies: Tidal Force

Bereavement weighs heavy in the wake of the P43X attack on Westerley. Burdened by being both the last location of infection and the last to receive medicinal aid, Westies are entrenched in the solemn task of burying their fallen while the merciless machine of the economy marches on. Whether it’s the result of a lost loved one or the continued illness of primary caretakers, the end result is the same: families all across Old Town struggle to feed their children and make ends meet. It’s always been a guiding principle of Westerley—if you can’t work, you can’t eat—but with so many who can do neither, the situation in Old Town begins to grow dire. But there’s hope, albeit in the form of a double-edged blade: with the newly distributed PDDs and Meshwork installation, nonprofit organizations are able to conduct themselves on a wider scale, drawing in more donors from outside of Westerley. While their efforts are ultimately but a drop in the ocean, the renewed spirit of community and altruism provides relief—as well as nourishment—for many who might very well die without it. That same tool which allows the people to come together is also used to rend it; rumors begin to circulate through encrypted bulletins about the emergency meeting held on (Week IV, Day VII). Some of the rumors are wild speculation and fanciful daydreams, but in the mire of them, a grain of truth slips through. The Accords have fallen, they say. Be ready. Most people disregard the rumors, writing them off as the idle machinations of conspiracy theorists. They cling to their hope that soon their children will walk a planet that is bountiful in food and sunshine, that the land promised on Leith will deliver them from the hell they current endure. It’s those people who shout the loudest when the official announcement confirms the rumor. The Accords have been repealed. (Week V, Day III) At first, protestors gather in small, grumbling groups, little more than angry drunks. But as more and more people take to the Meshwork, the wrath of the few awakens the desperation of the many, and over the course of the night, the peaceful protest swells into an unruly riot. Workers strike, but without any legal protection, they swiftly find themselves rebuked by unemployment. Now with nothing to lose and everything to gain, the riots expand, filling the streets of Old Town with anger and tension. Company personnel become popular targets, and within the next day, all travel permits to and from Westerley are temporarily revoked. The moon closes its docks in an attempt to smother the flames of the rebellion. What starts as a movement for change shifts into a violent cataclysm, homes and businesses burned down, families torn apart by dissent within and outside of themselves. The Company seems content to let Old Town destroy itself, to let them “get it out of their system”, but all too soon that stance changes as well. With the death of a distant cousin of the Derrish, Company orders shift. Lethal force is authorized, and all too eagerly, used. Once the death toll begins to climb, the protests decline. The riots soften, though they do not disappear outright. Company and Westie optimists take to podiums in a desperate attempt to bid their fellow compatriots once more into peace. But something else awakens in the fires of those riots. Something far more dangerous than the chaos of anger: something controlled, methodical. They call themselves Hyperion, and they are the new faces of the Resistance.

True Leithians: Rested Laurels

For this faction, the time to scatter is nigh. Their work is complete: the Accords are no more, and the militant leaders order the reintegration of their soldiers into civilian life. Leith’s rightful owners retain the precious land that was once threatened, and although their methods were extreme, they are justified by the end result. But while the True Leithians see this as only a rested pause in their work, their benefactors—those who provided the resource and information that allowed their wicked deeds to see fruition—see this time as the closing of a chapter. Loose ends that might later lead to Qreshi officials or even potentially the Nine themselves are dealt with severely and harshly, albeit quietly. Several prominent figures of Leith’s highest echelon of society simply disappear, and curiously, those around them don’t seem to remember that they were ever there in the first place. Their benefactors are not the only group that would see the True Leithians burn. Among the first wave of missions delegated beneath the Resistance is the assassination of known True Leithian sympathizers. Unlike the Company, the members of Hyperion are ordered to perform their tasks loudly, to send a message written in the blood of the True Leithians. The citizens of Westerley will no longer be the gutless pawns of the Quad. They will strike back, and they will uncover the source of the True Leithian’s funding and information. If the True Leithians thought themselves ruthless, they’ll soon learn a new measure of savagery when Hyperion converges on their trail.

Leith: Olive Branch

The atmosphere of Leith is one of both hope and mourning. Recovery on Leith proceeds more efficiently than that on Westerley, their infrastructure and resources better able to accommodate those that were felled in the P43X attack. But although agency has the streets of Leith cleaner and the surfaces shining, the spirit of the moon itself suffers a devastating blow in the wake of the attack, the people of Leith unprepared and unseasoned to deal with the psychological ramifications of so much death. But they are not yet hardened by the experience, drawing together in the spirit of cooperation to restore not just the physical aspects of their homes, but the mental fortitude of their people. Charity drives and galas proceed in extravagant fashion, as if by the display of their assets they might rebel against the somber circumstances on which they’re hosted. For most on Leith, the fall of the Accords arrives as welcomed news, the citizens of the moon long since opposed to sharing their land with those of Westerley. But although the sense of satisfaction with the ends is high, there’s also an undercurrent of regret for the means which provided it. Unlike the True Leithians, most of the citizens of Leith are not radical or extreme, and they offer their sympathies—but only their sympathies—to those Westies in their midst. News of the riots results in tighter security around the Westies still stationed on the moon, and for the days that the violent storm on Westerley builds, Leith in turn becomes markedly quieter and more conscientious. Moderates come together over the Meshwork and propose a Peace Summit, a meeting of both delegation and charity, once the riots and dangers of traveling have passed. The summit is sanctioned by Leithian officials, as well as the allocation of surplus resources to aid their sister moon in her recovery. While many citizens of Leith eagerly await the news of lands once lost to their families for the Accords, many more donate their time and hands as part of the newly created Good Will Corps, a coalition of both political pundits and regular people devoted to strengthening the connection between the moons rather than sowing division. Volunteers—and some individuals who are voluntold, join the Good Will Corps on a trip to Old Town where the Peace Summit is scheduled (Week VI, Day III), lending their time, their labor, and their technology as a gesture of good faith. But whether or not that’s sufficient to see the Peace Summit garner any steps towards system stability is another matter altogether.

Resistance: Sacred Grove

The people of the Quad barely have time to remove the packaging from their new PDDs before a new voice of dissent begins to worm its way down the feed. Encrypted messages, quick flashes of imagery begin appearing at random on open networks and closed channels alike, pitting the harsh realities of the suffering, suffocating Westerley against the excess and decadence on display by both Leithians and the Nine, showcasing the disparity in the starkest of lights. All of it aimed at one purpose, to spread one solemn truth: the branches of the Mother Tree are burning… and the Nine seem to be holding the matches. The name whispered, the one goading dissent, echoes through the Quad - Hyperion - followed slowly with the murmur of hope. Of an intellect so profound that not even the Nine themselves will be able to stop it. With an artful ease, this new force begins to reach out, to commandeer the discordant efforts of the Resistance and reforge it into something stronger, faster. Deadlier. It starts with a select few receiving instructions directing them to safe houses already stocked with equipment and supplies, each with tech tailored to that cell's purpose and loaded with dossiers far too complete to have been compiled by the average citizen. Some of the background information appears to come directly from the records of the Company, or the Nine themselves, while still more from planets outside the Quad. Some even hint at records long since sealed by the RAC. Nothing points to one faction over another. Nothing reveals the how or why this Hyperion has decided to play these particular cards now, but one thing is quite clear. There's a deep laid plan being set into motion, and neither the Company or the Nine will see it coming. All these leaders have to do is gather their forces...

The RAC: New Grade

The citizens of the Quad were not the only ones affected by the P43X - the upper ranks of the RAC's field agents is notably thinner - and with tensions shifting yet again between the moons, they cannot afford to be ill-prepared and understaffed. In order to bolster their ranks, the decision comes down the pipe of a new assessment system: Peer Evaluations. Many of those that have been in their current ranks - those between Levels I - III - will be eligible to receive a two-part assessment of their capabilities to operate efficiently at the next level through successful completion of live warrants. These field evaluations can be conducted by any Level IV agent and turned into Central Command for compilation and rank change approval. Unlike the lower level agents, Level IV assessments will still be conducted by RAC's Central Command, once all of the subordinate assessments have been completed and processed. These agents should take note - part of their own evaluations for Level V will be the efficiency with which they're able to evaluate those below them. During this time, warrants will still flow in and agents sent to answer - especially once the travel bans go into effect on Westerley, as those agents alone bearing active warrants will be able to enter and leave the atmosphere, though their docking point will be limited to the Prisoner Intake facilities.

Comments

why are you like this

[uncrownings]

[The moment is surreal- tension suspended in this sliver of time they shouldn't have at all as abject chaos roars around them. Noctis is aware of his pulse like a drum in his ears, he's aware of how sweaty his palm feels around the hilt of his sword, he's aware of the shallow breathing of the man he's holding up. The figure infront of him isn't someone Noctis recognizes but even if he did, they might still be in this stalemate.

He doesn't have the words to describe the way his throat tightens- the unbearable weight that bears down on his chest.

The man he's holding up is dying. He was dying before Noctis reached him and he's dying here, leaning on his shoulder, and he's dying while this guy with a face he can't see describes painful end after painful end. The descriptions are concise and to the point, but it doesn't keep Noctis from imagining the sallow color of skin left behind too much blood loss or eyes bloodshot from pain, fevers from infection. This is a losing battle from all sides and he knows that, the man hanging onto his arm knows that, the man sheathing his sword knows that.

But.]

I made my decision.

[Nausea turns his stomach and Noctis' jaw clicks audibly closed.
Maybe it's selfish- but this guy hadn't waved off his help. And he thinks... he hopes someone would have done this for his father- even if.

He forces the exhale.]

Now help me carry him.

[uncrownings]

[The unhappiest frown.]

Knock knock.

[brokeassgoing]

Who's there.

learn the taste of dirt and pain ❁ kanda

[shikomizue]

[The city is throbbing, it's infrastructure splintering under the burden of broken futures. As is only appropriate - the shattering of so many hopes should be audible. It should be a cry that swells so loud it renders sleepless the entire writhing population.

Takasugi watches the swelling masses with an easy smile, his thumb caressing the foreign-style flask at his side. It weighs half empty, the sting of it's contents still burning the back of his throat.

As the street corner grows thick with agitation Takasugi retreats, standing under the awning of a closed bar. There's a crash, an uproar, and then the jeering of a bloodthirsty mob circling their prey. Concealed by drab rags hanging from gaunt bodies is a Company officer, grounded and bloody, beaten - growing broken as the abuse drags on.

Blood, not filth, will slick the streets tonight.

A pleasant thought. Though he doubts his company will share such a delight. When the Killjoy had arrived doesn't matter - it's only once their shoulders nearly brush that Takasugi speaks.] Neutrality has it's perks, doesn't it? [Wry sarcasm is the only greeting he offers.]

[uncrownings]

No one. Your house is boarded up and you make visitors tell knock knock jokes.

[uncrownings]

[He should be good at small talk by now. With his formative years spent in surface conversations and a career in the Quad that centered around helping strangers get the things they wanted, it stands to reason that this should be a strong point. What kind of salesman can't close a deal? Networking is eighty percent of the job. This might explain why he dislikes eighty percent of the job.

Noctis has done his due diligence as the evening has gone on; he's comfortable in Leith, and surrounded by people with both the time and money to make decisions at their leisure.

It's the length that always gets to him. ...And the inevitability of avoiding the dance floor. In his attempt to look busy Noctis is more than happy to be pulled into Crowley's orbit, relief softening the line of his shoulders.]

You too, huh?

[fledges]

[She swats him away almost impatiently when he starts to fuss, and then, paradoxically, steps forward to hug him tightly.]

I'm fine. Don't be so protective.

[But god, she was worried about him. It's so good to see him, and anyway, she's always felt more comfortable on a team in these situations.

Which is a weird thought. She's never been in a situation like this before.

Kate pulls back, hands resting on his upper arms, her eyes searching his face.]

I've been trying to help, but it's such a mess... There's no way to get any of it under control.

no one smiles like that ❁ lavi

[shikomizue]

[If he has to listen to the babbling of petty criminals, it's always more entertaining to listen to the batshit crazy ones. Tales of rising pyres and phantom storms that sounded like broken readings of folk stories entertained him over the open line to Eulogy.

He wouldn't have time to stop for a drink, or for any business opportunities - the most crucial of his contacts could be maintained over a secure network.

When those very men - some shrewd and some off in their own rights - echoed the mystification of the addled, Takasugi himself considers that the legends might be true.

Cursory plucking at the web of information leads him to a description of two familiar characters. A cowardly Company idiot and an affable eye patch wearing redhead - one would have been enough to catch his interest, and two are cause enough for a detour.

Neither would see Takasugi upon their rescue, their location gleaned from the broken sentences of brain rotted residents of the badlands. Lavi has been ushered to his room by a scantily clad blonde, who shoots him a dirty look the entire way. She seems to think this is nothing but an inconvenience, which she mutters with intentional volume as she deposits the 'cargo' in his quarters.

Little more than an hour later, the door will open after a short series of lazy knocks. Takasugi comes bearing nothing but his pipe, bowl half smoked.] Yo. [Casual, almost friendly, Takasugi leans against the wall.] I've heard the ending to an interesting story...

Perhaps you know the beginning. How do we come upon our heroes stranded in the badlands, fatefully spared by storms that brew in the blink of an eye and pyres that rise to burn the sky?

[equerry]

[ The scream comes and Ignis' head jerks up, even though he can't see what's coming. The man on the ground is a lost cause, and Ignis is stepping toward Noctis when the explosion comes. His hand goes out, gripping the smuggler's waist, but before he can pull him into a place of safety the ground shakes and Ignis can see the surge of power that lurches out of Noct's body.

The shield is invisible to the naked eye, but Ignis' aren't usual. People and debris slide off the shield. It keeps the two of them safe from the mess of it, and when the shuddering stops leaving only the crackle of fire in it's wake, Ignis straightens. His hand goes to the small of Noctis' back and he doesn't look back at the man propped against the wall.

There's nothing left to save anymore. ]

We have to move.

[tousei]

[ Such is the tragedy of those who have been cursed since their birth. ]

Very well. [ Their transport halts, and the voices outside intensify. ] We are to do this efficiently.

[ He knows Giovanni relishes violence, that can't be helped - so it falls to him to take charge. They're being deployed in the most violent of places, so that would justify it a little.

But maybe not much. ]

Let's go.

[ And the back of the trailer opens, revealing a clamour of voices, blood, and sweat. ]

[tousei]

[ Enemies of the public. Well, he's an enemy of the public already, given what he's wearing - but it's honest advice, so he allows his grip to go slack and his blade to merely hang on his belt instead. ]

Alright.

[ There's a lot of discord outside, which thrums through the air as they approach. Speaking to people was never his forte, so it fell logically to Saber to take the lead. ]

Where should we begin?

[tousei]

[ For all that's happened to him, Julius' willpower remains steady. It is with this that he forces himself to move, one foot after the next, eyes focused entirely on the road before them. However, he doesn't speak; merely waiting for Sion to finish his words and for him to compose his own in return.

This time, he isn't even sure if his body will let him give it voice - but the coughing seems to have dislodged whatever blood there was to discharge, and his voice is audible if not faint. ]

I may be deserving of kindness, but... [ And here it is that he pauses again: ] I do not think I will have much time left.

[ He will die soon. ]

I was changed... not to make myself better, no. But to turn myself into something else, something inhuman. [ A curse that progressed. ] This was my fate for the last ten years.

[ The serum had already burned itself into his blood, it would continue to eat at him until it had its way. ]

I may not have much time left. I will treasure... this kindness that you have given me. I... I wish to use this remaining weeks to do something useful.

[ In a way, his acceptance of what Sion had offered him. ]

I was the heir of the Claudius family. [ Still is, but he doesn't keep his adoptive mother's name. ] There are... still things to my name. I need to prepare where they should be sent. I believe you will know better than I am.

[ The land, the grants... and then, his own humanity. Heavy topics they speak of while they walk along a road still lit dimly by stars. ]

Should I die... I do not wish... to have died in vain.

[tousei]

[ It's not an alien thing. In her, he sees himself a few years prior, a youth of little words away from the isolated facility he had been kept in for almost a decade. Social gatherings and the intricacies of politics are not something they're predisposed to. ]

That's alright. It can be overwhelming. [ Said while he casts a glance at the crowd of mostly older people. ] Would sitting down for a while help?

closed. hanzo, w5d5

[tousei]

[ It's in the hours before dawn that Julius receives his dispatch note. Orders are orders, which have to be followed - but the fact that it came outside of daylight marks it as something very serious. After all, dissent is not easily placated, especially if it involves the overthrowing of something entrenched centuries ago.

He had already docked his ship on Westerley days prior, so it's a simple thing to merely prepare himself and report to the assembly point. What isn't expected, however, is seeing a familiar face. ]

Good morning, sir.

[ It's a habitual thing, the way he greets the older man - but there's also that implicit trust and respect that comes with it. They'll be in the same unit, which he trusts Hanzo to already know, so it didn't need mentioning. ]

>3

[ofobedience]

[Unperturbed, Giovanni flashes a shark-toothed smile, leans in a little closer still and yes he's in Cerberus Unit uniform but perhaps that ought to be a warning sign already. A warning sign even to those who don't really know what it means, but to this someone, someone he's seen around with a certain stray (slinking in the shadows, observing, waiting it out) there's a little more to it than that.]

More than you, I'd wager.

[And with movements swift and precise he goes to snatch the device from his hands. Look at him when he's talking to you.]

[oneirism]

[This is such a pain. Both literally and figuratively.

But really, she should've known that her rebuttal towards the harsh words said about Sion and Julius would've angered the locals. They're still members of the Company, and the Company is not even remotely popular right now. And neither are those close to the employees.

It didn't help that some of them saw Sion come to her apartment one night, spun some wild story about some liaison that Lapis was quick to shoot down - her calmness and bluntness only sparking their anger even more. It wasn't much of a surprise when one lashed out at her, the growing bruises on her cheek and sides now throbbing sharply.

Despite the pain, despite the yelling and anger, Lapis is still calm and flat as always. It's only when she hears a familiar voice, does she finally break out of that - surprise coloring her features as she finds herself calling back, relieved to hear a familiar voice.]

Kanda - ! [Though the next sound after her voice is the sound of a fist hitting cloth, a choked gasp as a body falls solidly against the ground. Punches to the torso are always even more of a pain to deal with, and that's all that goes through Lapis mind as she doubles over, arms wrapped around her middle as she coughs harshly for a moment.]

[bywolves]

And there are people I haven't heard from. [ Royce isn't one for sentimentality, so much - but he does have people here that he needs to hear from before he can find a place to hide. That's what he's been doing. He's about done.

There might have been street kids he's been looking out for too, but he doesn't mention those. He has a reputation to uphold, right? ]

[bywolves]

[ Of course he's going to try to stop them. Royce lifts an eyebrow. ]

The Accords. It's mindless shouting. [ Royce doesn't much care. ] You're planning on stopping them with what, exactly? Your bare hands? Certainly not your charming personality.

[bywolves]

Don't be an idiot.

[ The fact that Noctis is closely watching how Royce wraps his bandages earns the kid a few points of respect with Royce. It also makes Royce think that Noctis is watching because Noctis has plans that might require wrapping his wounds up again. ]

If you're looking to throw yourself into the middle of the fire, by all means, do it. [ Royce thinks it's stupid, but he won't stop anybody who tries. ] If you're going to, you can't go in unprepared. Or you'll be dead. And then your usefulness drops to zero.

[ He finishes the bandaging, taking his hands away and back. ] Don't be a martyr. It's stupid and does nobody any good.

[bywolves]

Duster.

[ Like hell is he giving this guy his real name. As far as Royce knows, there aren't many people who can connect Royce Melborn to Duster. Royce is not happy about the very casual glance to his sidearm - that there is a threat, and Royce doesn't take those well, even minor as this. ]

Not much of your business. If Bishop wanted me out, she'd set up traps on her window, sir.

[ Not law enforcement, sure, but Royce is going to be a dick about it anyway. That's the most insincere sir ever. ]

[oneirism]

[There's silence in response, Lapis' frown only deepening even more. He's right, she can't deny it - things have been slowly leading to this moment, when the Company would just crush Westerly under it's heel, forcing it into submission. It horrible to think about, and so she just follows Genji quietly - glancing around the cafe they step into.

Her heart sinks once more when she sees the inured gathered around, her hands clasping tightly into the fabric of her skirt as she bites on her lip. Gold then glancing up at Genji when he brings her to a stop, watching as the lights of his arm glow - giving a slight tilt of her head at his explanation. Part of her wanting to point out she would be able to sense any devices with her A.I., but that's still a closely-held secret.

So she sits, sighing as the weight is finally lifted off her aching feet. It's only now that she registers just how sore she feels - her sides aching, and her hands stinging with cuts.]

Is there anything we could do for the people here? [Her medical supplies are already almost gone, her bag so much lighter than when she first set up. But maybe there's something.]

[oneirism]

[WELL YOU NEVER KNOW, BADOU

But okay, she was expecting something like that and she stands upright now. Huffing as she turns to face him, reaching to rub at her bruised cheek.]

They said some things about people I know in the Company, I said some things back and it blew up from there. [Pause.]

But, thank you.

[ofobedience]

[Two legs and two arms that would soon grow back even if she chose to lop them off, but it'd take him a few hours, would cause a lot of pain, and there are still things here he wants to do, people to kill, you know the drill. It's tempting nonetheless, having her standing there in front of him and presenting such an easy target, all it'd take is a little click, the flick of his fingers against the triggers. Who would miss her? Would anyone care? His Company masters certainly wouldn't begrudge him the death of someone who's been cast aside, joined up with the RAC no less.

It's all there in him, the jump of the muscles beneath his skin, a hard light in his eyes more animal than man and yes he's given his Handler the slip, lost amidst the chaos and confusion of the riots, but it hardly matters right now. There's no one here to bring him to heel.

His smile, it's wide and serrated and raw.]

Silly me. Just a little lost dog. But my orders are to bring the herd under control by any means necessary, they didn't specify where I ought to be.

[The guns are still raised, pointed at her chest, head tilted quizzically to one side.]

Are you planning to interfere with Company orders?

[inksplashes]

[ Protests are there in his face, bubbling up at his lips, but they're dead in the water when she steps forward and hugs him. He squeezes, probably a little too much and a little too hard, the breath he didn't realize he was holding exhaled out in a shuddered sigh.

Trees he's glad she's alive and whole. After hearing about the state of things here, and finding that strange man at her apartment--

(It had occurred to him, sharply and painfully, that her father might have taken her away, and he was going to be grateful for that on one level, but the thought that she might disappear for it had been too much to bear.)

Lavi swallows back that thought, the heavy lump of it in his throat, brows set in a deep furrow of worry when she pulls back enough for him to see the pink of her jaw that much better. ]

You shouldn't be here.

[ And then a smile, resigned, as he pulls her right back into another a little-too-tight hug. ]

But I'm not going to waste my breath trying to get you to leave. I'm just so glad you're okay.

[inksplashes]

[ (un)Fortunately, Lavi doesn't flinch or show the slightest concern that the issued sir was said with dripping derision. If anything, his smile gets a little wider, eye crinkling up with it just enough to make it look genuine.

"Duster" is right, of course. It really shouldn't be his business, Kate is just an informant--but it's the principle of the thing. It's creepy as hell to sneak into a girl's window and interpret the lack of traps as permission.

Which brings him to his next point: ]

Actually, Buster, I'm thinkin' that a guy who breaks into people's places probably has some warrants kickin' around for similar feats.

[ Not exactly a leap between breaking and entering and burglary, he figures, and practically no one who wears low hoods has good intentions. Popular cinema has taught him as much. ]

So it could just as well be my business if I want it to be. And right now? There's a creepy dude at my friend's place and she's not here, so yeah, I want it to be. Where is she?