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

[impulsors]

. . . I don't think they bring picnic baskets to these. So yeah: weapons.

[brokeassgoing]

It's nice to have friends and shit I guess, but defending their name ain't worth your life.

[then again he doesn't know anything about her situation, plus shes a company woman...but it doesn't really matter. A little uncomfortable at himself, he rubs the back of his neck]

Look, I'm no one's dad so. Do what you will. It's not a big deal, we both got outta there.

And of course I only notice typos in my last tag now, whoops

[somnusrex]

"Affection, huh? Those people were idiots, then."

But it was fond. How could it be anything but? For all that Sion was teasing him as usual, the two of them were far too close and connected not to care about one another. Probably more than they should have, really, but being raised as weapons had the tendency to cause those weapons to cling to whatever they could. Especially when kept so very isolated. Sion had easily garnered the favor of all his superiors, but even so, Ryner had dedicated himself to protecting him.

So Sion's declaration that he'd only meant to protect Ryner made him scoff. It wasn't that he held it against him. Far from it; he understood all too well. But it still seemed so utterly ridiculous that he had to turn away so as not to laugh in Sion's face at how absurd it sounded.

"Of course I understand. Have you forgotten what I said when they first brought you to R&D? You don't have to go through everything on your own. I'm not so fragile that I can't share the load a little. It just pisses me off when you hide things from me, since you should know by now that you never have to."

Because he knew. Not the details, obviously, but for as much as Sion wanted to protect him, Ryner had always had a very strong tendency to seek out information and had wanted to know about what was happening. The tragedy on Leith...knowing Sion, he'd been there, right in the thick of it. It had to have hurt, especially since there would have been absolutely nothing to be done to ease the people's suffering. He put gentle pressure on the hand in his own. Not squeezing, really, but hopefully somewhat reassuring all the same. He wasn't angry. Never really had been, just worried. And he knew what he'd said on arrival had hurt.

"Hey. What I said when I came in. I didn't mean to call you a martyr. I mean, you act like you want to be, sometimes, but the mods were never your fault. I just don't want you to be in pain. I hate seeing what it does to you."

The blood that wasn't even blood anymore, the pain Sion was constantly in that he so rarely showed to anyone...well. That had all been done to him, and Ryner still carried the guilt of not being able to stop it in the slightest. Sure, he'd had a lot done to himself too, but seeing it happen to someone else was worse. Especially Sion, who actually wanted to be good for the Company. Ryner had never given a damn.

He closed his eyes when Sion finally lay beside him, happy to have won that small battle. Getting Sion Astal to lie down at all, ever, was quite the feat, and he was glad the idiot had listened for once. Up close, he was more than obviously exhausted, the bags under his eyes pronounced.

He laughed a little when Sion sleepily smiled at him and rambled on about pancakes and travel and Ryner being grumpy.

"A date, huh? With some grumpy loser who's mad you woke him up to drag him to Leith when we could just make pancakes here? You really need to set the bar higher for yourself. I'll go, though. Fancy pancakes sound pretty good."

And with that, he pulled the blanket he always insisted Sion keep on the back of the couch - a luxurious, thick thing that was huge enough to cover both of them with room to spare - over them, sighing in happiness at the warmth and the comfort of the couch. Sleeping on the ground sucked, no matter how used to it he was.

"Go to sleep."

He didn't really need to say it; Sion was obviously close to drifting off anyway. But it was as much a command for himself as it was his boss.

[slotted]

[ BECAUSE HE ASKED!!! at least leo answered him!!??!?

he comes back to corrin's table about three minutes later. he serves two drinks, presenting the hot tea first, along with milk and sugar. ]

Peppermint tea.

[ then he places a shorter glass on the table. it's brandy with ice and mint leaves! ]

This one's on the house.

[slotted]

[ the look leo gives vaughn is of disbelief. at least word your sentence a bit better so you don't look like a fool? ]

We also serve coffee and tea. [ and other juices and smoothies, but eh... this guy doesn't look like the juice type. or is he? leo's a bad judge of character, anyway. ]

That shouldn't make you say anything stupid, but it could make you look stupid because of the caffeine.

[ LEO NO ]

[mayora13]

[Hey! Don't implicate him like tha-

Okay it's true though.

Hijikata crosses his arms and nods, whisked away in this guy's unabashed anger.

The attendant doesn't seem to get paid enough for this, and backs off, but she's totally trying to find a manager.

In the mean time, Hijikata stands to go lean on the counter where people are being 'helped'.] Oi. Hurry it up. You don't want this to escalate, right? [Thug voice goin strong.]

[brokeassgoing]

[hopefully the manager is one of those uncle types with such shiny glasses and lots of security.

The person behind the desk is unperturbed though. Pops some gum and states:]

You've got a number, don't you? Just wait till its called and get out.

[does she not sense the urgency??]

[mayora13]

[The gum pops and so does a vein in Hijikata's temple. He slams his hand on the desk and turns away.] Hey! They think we've got time for this-

[A pointed look to Badou, to bring the intimidation from the other side of the room. How many chairs need to be abused until these people get it!?]

[brokeassgoing]

[why is he taking this as his cue? Why is he being a starter and then a follower? What the hell is this, middle school in the lunchroom? How many wedgies need to happen.

Badou does him one better, though. There's a small jug of water in the middle of the room in case of dehydration for the duration of 6 (and no less) hours people wait in line. He rips it from its table and throws it across the room]

WE AIN'T GONNA TAKE THIS SHIT LYING DOWN! OR STANDING UP EITHER. IF WE DON'T GET CIGARETTES AND ALSO OUR PAPERWORK THROUGH, WE'RE GONNA STRIKE. STARTING RIGHT NOW.

[affinities]

[Maybe it was a silly question to ask a RAC agent. Their concerns never seemed to extend beyond their warrants, so he should have known he would get that type of answer. Still, he imagines that it would have to get lonely, or boring, or both, to be treated as part of the background for as long as everyone is here. As much as he might have been expecting a non-committal reply, the comment about the stale chips catches him off guard. This could be one of the most important political gathering in recent history, and... the chips are stale.

It's such a random statement that Corrin doesn't quite know what to do with it. He stares, then breaks out into laughter. Quietly, of course-- there's no need to offend anyone with an inappropriate display of amusement. It is a crucial gathering, after all, and he wants to make a positive impression.

He smiles sheepishly, lifting one shoulder in an apologetic shrug.]

I'm sorry. I suppose that was a rather broad question.

[Now would probably be a good time to actually let the man do his job and leave him alone. Then again...]

So, stale chips, hm? Somehow, I doubt that will come up in too many discussions. [He pauses, looking thoughtful.] Perhaps after the truly important details have been ironed out, though.

[affinities]

[Corrin had been prepared to wait, especially with more esteemed customers waiting to be served, but the service is as quick as ever. With a pleasing amount of milk and sugar to add to his drink, he really would have been content with just the cup of tea. Instead, Leo is just full of surprises.

He tilts his head at the brandy, glancing around and then lowering his voice when he speaks.]

I thought you weren't allowed? You aren't going to get in trouble over this, are you?

[affinities]

[The novelty of freely wandering around and then running into someone he knows still hasn't quite worn off, so when he hears his name, Corrin stops in his tracks and looks around, quickly spotting Vaughn. Someone he knows and has an exciting story with all in one, how fortunate. He waves enthusiastically, making his way over to say hello a little better.]

Vaughn, hello! Imagine running into you here-- are you doing well? Not witnessing any crimes in progress this time, I hope?

[Now it's a tiny weirdo convention.]

[demonly]

Look who's talking. Yer the one trying to get me to hold a cup with my pinky up.

[ Rin's voice is laced with a ton of scrutiny, as if even the notion of holding a cup in such a way was unimaginable - behavior only reminiscent of a child!! Not to mention Crowley's attitude pisses him off; he can tell the other is looking down on him and it makes him feel. Annoyed. And (a bit) insecure. ]

If ya hate it so much, then why bother? I'm supposed to be working... [ You know, because some people have to actually WORK for a living. ] You probably fit in more with these Leithians than I do. So yeah, I do feel weird.

[slotted]

I'm always in trouble, anyway.

[ which is clearly not the best answer! it's not very reassuring, but leo doesn't seem to care. for all the hate he's received while working for the company, they've never done anything like threaten to take away his job or whatever. and he could also just give the filthy excuse that corrin wanted to try it—somebody really needs to speak to his manager!! ]

IM YELLING

[tousei]

[ Julius smells clean, mostly - a faint whiff of shampoo that might actually be cologne; but underneath all of that is the lingering trace of dried blood, sweet yet rough. It's not something that's easily washed off.

He stiffens a little when she hugs him, but wills himself to relax. It's by no means a hostile action, so it's not that difficult to shake off his reflex. He'll also stand there for as long as he needs to. ]

[tousei]

[ Giovanni is gone.

That's the sinking realization that comes to him after fifteen minutes, a dog lost into the writhe of the riot and the blend of sounds that it brings. He would later spend hours looking for him, cursing how he'd forgot to bring a scanning radar; and of how there was no signal when he finally returned with it. ]

[tousei]

Even if so, I pray they are successful.

[ Quiet is good. He hopes this young lady won't mind him staying outside briefly as well; he still has to mull on what to say before returning. ]

What is your name?

[tousei]

[ This acceptance and lack of pressure to push him to do something he was already set against is what reaches him in the end - people who were willing to let him take it at an own pace, a Rapunzel shit into a lab for the past ten years, someone whose view of the world was much more distorted than he lets on. Patience is something rarely affordable in the Quad, even for someone of highborn status like him. ]

I hope they can help others. I do have... one last living relative, not by blood but only by deed, she may have a say in this matter. But what I can give, I will give to you.

[ His mother's sister, the one who had ratted her out in the first place. Julius has not seen her for years. ]

Thank you... my friend.

HEHEHEHE

[oneirism]

[Lapis, mainly thanks to her flower-filled apartment, mostly smells just like flowers. It's not too overpowering, but it still comes through over whatever may be underneath.

How he stiffens isn't a surprise, and neither how he stands still. But doesn't stop her from huffing softly, resisting the urge to start playing with his hair. At least some of her usual attitude is shining through now.]

... You know, you can hug me back.

[tousei]

Ah, yes.

[ Gingerly he tries to put her arms around her, every bit of the contact unfamiliar. He has to fight the urge to let go.

It's almost as if he's holding her like she's some porcelain glass that could break at any moment. ]

[fledges]

[Kate frowns, hesitating, but she still doesn't lower her bow.]

What's your solution, then?

[eleutheron]

[ Fenris lets the man drop. Surprised, the man sits there, staring blearily between the two of them for a few seconds. But only a few--he's up in short order, scrambling away, his gait a frenetic but stumbling limp. Fenris watches him go. ]

Any blood he spills is on both our hands, now.

[ He leans back against the grime-slicked wall, arms folded over his chest. His circuitry pulses in the darkness, bluish-white. ]

In any case, I don't have the solution. I only have orders.

[instalock]

You have a strange way of showing it.

[ Quick, and quicker.

Genji's new body had been engineered for speed; still, the Enforcer's glancing blows send him stumbling. Speed may ultimately settle as Genji's advantage, but he's clearly lacking when it comes to raw power.

The vents at his shoulders hiss as steam dampens his jacket sleeves; already he's moving to end the fight before it can conflagrate into something beyond his control. His sword flashes ribbon-like, directed towards the joints of the Enforcer's body.

In the end, Genji has little concern whether he incapacitates or nets himself a kill. His opponent has already made it clear that bloodying his own hands with Resistance blood need no hesitation. ]

[instalock]

[ Not a question he wants to answer. He has not removed his visor, at least; she won't see the distaste accompanying his calm reply. ]

Hack-mods are outlawed for a reason, I suppose.

[ He's quiet as she works, though his abdominal muscles are corded tight. Being touched - skin to skin - has been a rare occurrence for the past ten years; it feels akin to sensory overload. He focuses on the stained ceiling tiles above, amusing himself by picking out shapes in the fading stains.

Like he once did as a child, except it was the clouds above that formed his ceiling. And his brother would sit at his side, nose buried in a book. The smell of sweetgrass, catching in his throat. The sun gilding Hanzo's stern profile.

He flinches when her palm ghosts over the implants at his sternum, but when he speaks, it's of a different matter. ]

When you last sang at the Nest, you mentioned you brokered information as your main pursuit. What is your fee?

[fledges]

[Kate studies him for a long moment, then lowers her bow slowly, letting the tension ease from the string. There goes Leo's "Company puppet" theory.]

What are your orders?