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

Lavi | peace summit

[affinities]

[The Peace Summit is one of the better ideas Corrin has encountered recently. Provided, of course, that it goes well. He wants to believe that it will, though. Tensions will likely remain higher than normal for quite some time, but that doesn't mean that people can't work towards a peaceful resolution, and it certainly doesn't mean that they should turn their backs on each other at a time like this.

Things will simply be better for everyone if they're able to seriously work towards a solution, though who knows how long it will be until things have returned to... well, maybe not normal, but hopefully to being more stable. Isn't that the entire purpose of getting together like this?

In any event, he feels like he does better when he can speak one-on-one with people, and a gathering of this type is just the kind of place to do so. It doesn't have to be all business-- it probably should be, but sometimes Corrin just wants to see where a conversation goes without laying down expectations for it first. To that end, he decides to go for a conversation with someone he's never even met before.

The other man seems affable enough, after all.]

So... [He inclines his head, gesturing at the other people spread out around them.] How do you think it's going so far?

[homonka]

[ While she has similar feelings about such orders, she's not in a position to display her dismay openly. Sui Feng simply inclines her head, face still largely impassive, the slightest curl of her lip as if to say yes, that would certainly be great.

(Though what would truly be great is if she had something useful to do. Dresses and dances are not her art, and in this moment, her birthright is more of a curse than a blessing.) ]

Ah..

[ Sui Feng lifts her gaze a little more, scanning his livery and colors. He wears the mark of a Simms, but he doesn't seem to have heard of her work. Not that Kendry has gone to great lengths to loan her out, but even so..

Murder is not, she's been told, polite party conversation. ]

A person House Kendry has deemed worthy of my particular talents and training, my lord. Someone whose loyalties do not lie as they should.

[homonka]

[ Like most people with limited patience and much to do, she'd been prepared to knock again, hand lifting and teeth setting in a straight line. When she feels the door begin to withdraw, she lowers her hand, schooling her expression into its usual icy countenance.

(There is a barely perceptible twitch of her jaw at that upwards look and subsequent fall, but such notions are vain and petty. Thus, she keeps them to herself.) ]

Indeed.

[ Sui Feng is not in a position to publicly lodge her complaints or air her grievances, so she leaves her answer to that single word, noncommittal but edged with a sharpness that bellies the opinion she cannot utter.

She does not belong here. Not on Westerley, and certainly not at a conference aimed at stopping the very war machine which gave rise to her.

Still, she is Qreshi and trained to obedience around other members of their society, no matter the particulars of their reputation. Tipping her head forward in a slight bow, her tone is the appropriate mix of deference and boredom when she asks: ]

May I come in, Mr. Takenaka? I have some business to discuss with you.

[affinities]

[Corrin enjoys visiting this particular cafe anyway; the fact that they're holding a charity drive is all the more reason for him to be here. He doesn't particularly mind that Company employees are being given preferential treatment. It's not what he's here for, and as long as money is being raised for the less fortunate, that's good enough for him.

He smiles up at Leo from his cross-legged position in his seat, shoes tucked neatly beneath the table.]

Tea would be lovely, if you would. [He pauses. The staff look a bit worn out, and understandably so.] They must be running you ragged with all of this, hm? Are you all able to eat, too?

Kim | week 6

[affinities]

[Well, he honestly can't fault anyone for being angry, and protests and riots aren't exactly known for being peaceful and orderly. Still, it seems counterproductive to destroy property when it's just going to cost time and resources to repair it afterward. Corrin supposes it's just a natural result of being so frustrated and angry that lashing out seems to be the only thing that makes any difference.

And while he knows he isn't personally responsible for damaging storefronts or worse property destruction, that doesn't mean that he feels okay about just sitting back and letting the people of Westerly fend for themselves when it comes to trying to get back to normal.

Some of his offers of help to Westies that are clearly rebuilding have been rebuffed or outright turned down, which he can understand as well. He'll keep trying, of course.

For now, he simply sits down on a pile of debris, taking a brief moment to rest as he watches people diligently attempting to fix their various stores up.]

[affinities]

[It honestly shouldn't be that surprising that things escalated to this level. It felt like resentment ran through everything here at the best of times, and this is clearly, dangerously far from the best of times.

Corrin isn't overly concerned with his own well-being when there are people in harm's way; his fine clothing is dirty and torn, despite his assertions that he'd actually like to help. The fact that he has had to draw his own weapon several times already anyway means that there are those that just plain don't care and are itching for a fight.

He whips his head around when he hears Kate's voice, having just shown a rather aggressive man exactly why he carried a sword; he hadn't done any serious harm, but it was enough to drive him off.

He blinks, looking between Kate and the dropped Enforcer. It doesn't seem like the man is dead from the way he's trembling. Honestly, just because they received Company permission to use lethal force doesn't mean they have to. Still, killing an Enforcer for carrying out orders, no matter how objectionable, isn't something he is willing to accept either.

Frowning, he waves a hand at the twitching man, who doesn't seem quite ready to speak.]

Will he be alright? Is he going to live?

[valr]

Putting it nicely.

[Her arm is still a little tender where Giovanni took a chunk out of her, because even her healing baulked at the amount of flesh that needed to be grown back.

And though Utopia and Eulogy are already on the table for considerations, Kara understands what Kanda is trying to do, as well as what it means for him to step slightly outside those bounds of neutral, so she gives a nod to show she understood.]

That thing ain't natural, someone oughta put it down. If that's even possible.

[She watched him cut himself off a sword, she's not entirely sure he could be killed.]

[ofobedience]

Speak for yourself. Hahah.

[Because he's been conditioned towards such things, a love of unadulterated brutality-- it slides beneath his skin, sings in his bones, and even as he whirls about to face the next hapless rioter, hand punching through flesh and muscle into bone, down past the cage of his ribs to clutch at the rapidly beating heart, he saves some part of his awareness for the other Company pet. Watches him, the way he smashes the bones and the hot gush of blood that streams up from the rioter's mouth. The efficient ferocity of his actions, the bloody beauty of it.

Giovanni throws him a knowing look, a sly-edged smile.]

But you look to be having a good enough time of it, to me.

[ofobedience]

[We are to do this efficiently.

He takes it for the order it is, nods just once, even though it's all skittering and scrabbling in him, the desire to be more than just efficient, the need to revel in the bloody destruction of it all. But he'll do his best to follow orders. To put them down quickly if that's what's required (though for how long he'll be able to hold on to such a thing remains, of course, to be seen.)]

Yes, Sir.

[And then he's up and on his feet and sliding sinuous through the doors, guns unholstered in one fluid movement and almost before his boots hit the grimy Old Town street, he's pulling the triggers. Shooting two rioters dead, clean headshots.

As they drop heavy-limbed to the ground, Giovanni is already smiling.]

[ofobedience]

[It didn't start out this way. One must have control to be controlled, and Giovanni has always carried a certain level of pride in the fact that of all the Dogs, he never loses himself. Oh, he's brutal and violent and filled up with roiling pulsing ferocity yes, but there's always a cold hard kernel of self that shines bright and clear in him, the thing that stands between him and pure unadulterated chaos. He never bites the hand that holds the leash, he can discern the difference between friend and foe, and though he kills with vicious glee it's only ever those his masters point him towards that feel his inimical wrath.

But today, all of this-- it does something to him. He kills and kills and kills, and the more blood he spills the more he wants, the more it gets into his bones until he almost hears the words echoing inside his head, a scrabble and a pant and a whisper (come on, now-- hit the switch). And so he does.

He loses himself to carnage, utterly.

And this is how Kate encounters him. There's movement from the side as Kate's tasing arrow finds the Enforcer, sudden screams, a wave of blind panic, and from amid the unruly crowd the Dog appears. His visage in that moment, it's more monster than man, blood smeared across his face his teeth, staining his hair, his arms from fingertips to elbows, clothes torn but not a mark on his flesh and manically, he's laughing.

As he passes the fallen Enforcer his boot comes down on the man's throat, a stamp and twist and there's the crunch of bone, the wet gurgling remnants of breath. He doesn't pause to look, though, keeps moving, grabs for the crowbar-wielding man and in an instant he's wrenching him back by the arms, bones snapping as the man cries out and then Giovanni's teeth find his tender throat, ripping down and tearing it open.

There are no thoughts in him. Only beautiful blind abandon.]

[valr]

[Everyone has a reputation and Kara is starting to get sick of it, the way people cast roles for themselves that they'll go to the ends of the fucking universe to maintain, even if they're stupid.

She can't exactly complain, though, not when she does the same damn thing.]

Want me to see if I have better luck?

[For most non-Killjoys, Kara keeps the info broker thing on the downlow, but Royce knows she's got connections she can reach out to, if she needs to find missing people.]

[oneirism]

[So very busted.

Her brows simply furrow at his response, listening to him quietly for a moment. Not saying anything in response yet, instead gently using the hand on his back to nudge him towards a seat - her voice softer than usual.]

Sit down, Julius. Drink your tea, too.

[And once she sits, she'll sit down next to him. Part of her wants to press about what's wrong, but she holds back this time - if he wants to say something, she'll know he'll say it.]

[tousei]

[ It's a good thing that she's so patient with him - without much expectation for immediate responses, he's able to do what she asks him to without much mishap.

How best to explain? She probably already knows from what Sion would have told her - that he felt he did not have much time left. What else does he say?

The silence is filled by him stirring his tea. ]

I'm sorry. [ And, after a pause: ] I don't know what will happen to me.

[ The marks, his body failing, all of it. ]

[slotted]

[ leo isn't one to judge, but this guy looks... so prim and proper, and then here he is talking to him about being run ragged. it's true, but it's not really something somebody would ask. ]

It's my job, [ he says flatly. he also makes no effort to answer the latter question. ] What kind of tea would you like?

[ there's a ton of tea kinds their cafe has to offer, considering the cans of loose tea they have on display in one of the shelves. ]

sounds good!

[eleutheron]

[ Before anything else, the sight of the sword triggers something in him. A memory, a hallucination--he still can't tell the difference. Genji's katana warps in Fenris's vision, becoming broader, thicker. A greatsword crafted of dark, dull iron. Fenris, his grip still tight on the rioter's neck, blinks hard. The afterimage fades, leaving only the stranger and his threats. Leaving only the cold bite of the blade, pressed careful and firm against his skin. ]

This man was inciting.

[ He's following orders. He has to. He has no choice--or so he believes.

Even so, his grip relaxes. Genji had crept up on him with swift, silent precision, and Fenris is not a fool. He won't sacrifice his life for nothing, even as his gut roils with anger at the surprise attack--and at the glow of hackmods, bright beneath Genji's clothes. ]

[eleutheron]

[ He's on his third glass, and he's starting to feel a pleasant, pain-numbing buzz. It doesn't actually improve his mood--not much does--but it makes conversation more tolerable. He leans back, his bright green eyes fixed on Nyx. He can get behind protecting what's yours, even if he can't directly relate (he has, at present, very little to protect). ]

And how do you plan to keep it safe? This city is ravenous.

[eleutheron]

[ He has a woman in his grasp, his deceptively strong fingers curled around her throat. She's gasping, clawing at his wrist. He can hear Sui Feng's work behind him, see her in his peripheral vision, but his focus is entirely on the task at hand. That is, until Sui Feng's voice pierces the veil.

As ever, Fenris obeys. Not because he wants to, not because he thinks any of this is right or just or even strictly necessary--but because he must.

He drops the woman, and she falls to her knees, struggling raggedly for breath. She'd been throwing burning cocktails with the rest of them just moments before, but the fire of revolution seems well snuffed in her now. She doesn't wait a second before she's on her feet and stumbling away to safety.

Fenris turns to Sui Feng. She's dressed in blood, and a body lies still at her feet. She moves so fast that Fenris sometimes has trouble perceiving her, like the wind made flesh.

His head aches. When he speaks, his deep voice is rough, but without any apparent emotion. ]

Why? The rats still scurry.

[ It is less 'shouldn't I keep going' and more 'what else do you want me to do'. ]

[fledges]

[Kate has witnessed a lot of awful, awful things today, but she sees Giovanni tear into the men and for a moment, she freezes, horrified. There's a Company insignia emblazoned on each shoulder of his jacket, and past all the disgust and horror and overwhelming urge to gag, all Kate can feel is a level of rage she doesn't think she's ever reached. Lethal force is bad enough. This is pure brutality, and there's no way to justify it, not even with the Company's usual pretty lies.

It's instinctive for Kate to go, immediately, for one of her more lethal arrows, a wicked broadhead meant to do as much damage as possible. Fortunately for Giovanni, and unfortunately for Kate, she never shoots to kill. She nocks the arrow, aims, looses—but it's pointed towards the meat of his thigh, purely to maim and slow him down.]

[eleutheron]

[ Hawke's voice is a breaking wave, cold and stunning. Fenris's head snaps up, and he scowls at her--animal jabs him right in the gut. It doesn't matter that she's not wrong, especially not right now, leashed as he is. Wild and vicious as he is.

He stands defiantly over the body. The nascent guilt crumbles, at least for the moment; any questions or uncertainties he had fall away in the face of his frustration. She doesn't understand.

(She did, once. A voice in his mind, unbidden nonsense. He shoves it away.)

She can't understand. ]

Keeping order. The city is in desperate need, if you haven't noticed.

[ Something about this feels familiar, right down to her oath to the Maker. He snarls, looking away. He can't process it, so he's just gonna get pissed off instead. ]

Leave me be, Hawke.

[ofobedience]

[And the arrow strikes home. Giovanni turns then, sharply, head whipping around in a predatory animal gesture, and half the man's throat comes with him, muscle and gristle and viscera still smattering his face and caught up in his teeth, his eyes made hard with something blank and terrible. It's visible in him, the fact that there's nothing going through his mind besides base and ugly instinct.

He drops his prey to the ground, body still twitching and slickly drowning in it's own blood, and he takes a moment to yank the arrow from his thigh with no more care than someone removing a splinter. There's the hiss and sizzle of kinetic energy, bluegrey plumes of rising smoke, his body knitting itself back together quicksharp and leaving him perfectly unharmed. He smiles then, though it's barely a smile at all, something wide and awful and raw, something inhuman.

He's launches himself across the distance that stands between them, movements swift and fluid and unnatural as the rest of him.]

[affinities]

[Well, okay, that's not really the answer he was looking for. The staff were probably told to be extra professional today, so it's understandable that Leo isn't interested in small talk.]

Right, of course. [He'll just have to try chatting again later.] Do you have a favorite? I usually go with something minty, but it seems like a good day to try something new.

[fledges]

[Kate's stomach clenches when he rips the man's throat out. It's like every horror movie she's ever seen, made real and terrible right in front of her, but she shuts it down, turns that horrified part of herself off, and her expression goes hard. The regeneration is more worrying—he's some Company experiment, probably made for their worst jobs, which means she doesn't need to pull any punches.

He's so fast, though, that Kate barely gets out of the way. She scrambles back, at least graceful enough to grab for another arrow. This one is a simple field point, one she's far more brutal with, aiming right for his eye.]

[ofobedience]

[Which has him sweeping both arms upwards in fluid graceful arcs at the last moment, covering his face as he lands and leans back to avoid a strike to the head. Even like this - berserk, out of control, monstrous terrible rabid - he has enough wherewithal to protect himself against a headshot. Perhaps it may not have penetrated his brain, but there's enough survival instinct pulsing through him that he isn't about to take that risk.

Instead it thuds into his left arm, punching in through flesh and muscle and out the other side again, and though he grunts as it goes in, he shows no more concern for it than that. Again, he's yanking it free and the smoke rises up and he grasps the bloodied arrow in the palm of his right hand, all movements that take no time at all before he's hurling it back at her.

Aimed right for the heart.]

[ofobedience]

[There's something there, the command in her voice, that plucks and twists at his insides and even now, despite knowing she has no dominion over him, the dull thud of his conditioning still threatens to come into play. It leaves a moment of vague hesitation because it's in him to obey, hammered right down into the core of himself. But she isn't Company anymore, her words can be ignored, and so he shakes his head just a little as though throwing them off, denying her demand.]

And who's going to stop me? You?

[The smile remains, flashes wider, the flickering light coruscating from those rows of pointed teeth, and then the decision is made.

He pulls the triggers, onetwo.]

[bywolves]

[ The warrants threat gets Royce tense, bristling. He's pretty sure he doesn't have any out - though how the hell would he know? And here's this guy, just flaunting his Killjoy status. Royce is not even remotely inclined to be nice, now. ]

I don't know where she is. [ Royce says angrily. ] Which was why I was checking her apartment. She's probably waist deep in helping people, as usual.

[ For as terrible as his methods are, Royce is actually trying to check up on Kate. ]

Did you want to try focusing on finding her, or continue to threaten to arrest me?