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

[rhygret]

[ Wow okay he thought maybe she lost a shipment or got into a mind spaceship accident or something, maybe damaged company property? but no Steph went straight to "trust me i didn't kill anyone" and sudden;y Rhys is a lot less sure of this conversation. ]

Wh...o-of course, I mean yeah but...I mean. Do you u-uh. Need something "handled"? I mean I think I know someone who can take cares of that sort of thing, but it's kind of last-minute here...

oh good

[rhygret]

I...I don't really know what to do about that Steph. I don't exactly have that sort of influence. I mean maybe if a couple of people get behind the whole wasteland thing I'll be able to do something with that? But the Seyahs are the ones with the real power.

[ Rhys may as well be a nobody to them. ]

[eggplanting]

No, no. [She even holds her hands up in a bit of a placating gesture, not wanting him to keep guessing because she's fairly sure he'd never figure it out, since this is just so completely ridiculous.

Steph sighs, steeling herself, though she can't quite look at him.]

About a year ago, I woke up in the bed in my apartment, and that's the first thing I remember. Everything before that is just... blank, there's nothing there. I knew my name and where I was and how to do like, things. But I don't have any memories of learning it all.

[And she's - done. There, it's done, and she's terrified that he's going to freak out.]

[eggplanting]

I know, I know.

[And she means that, something almost like sympathy in her tone.]

I'm not asking you to change the world, you just... you get why I'm angry, right? You know this sucks.

[She just wants him to understand.]

[rhygret]

Wait, you actually went down there to deal with--to deal with all that?? [ That gets Rhys up and out of his chair in surprise, actually feeling a bit bad for her now. No wonder he's doing the weird...water thing that she does. He's an idiot for not noticing when she first came in. ]

Are you okay??

[lacuscular]

[ She stares at him-- not the I made a fool of myself and I can't save this type of stare, but one of confusion. She forgets that Rhys is a glorified pencil pusher, and that this reaction is a perfectly reasonable for all the chaos that did happen. ]

I'm not as hurt as everyone else.

[ She doesn't want to make it sound... too bad...... But she can't help her expression hardening. ]

Juvia is alive. That's all that matters.

[tousei]

[ Oh dear. ]

I... see. I should prepare myself...

[ He looks hesitant, but there's a slight edge of amusement to his voice. It's all he can muster right now. ]

avi coming to break my heart every day with fic tags

[tousei]

I will.

[ He complies in silence, willing his body to be still. There is little means by which he can discern what Sion is trying to do beyond observation, so he does - a careful mind with acuity unbending to his pain. A process that takes over most things, something not so alien to him. The Oracle Cells in his body show up as bright pinpoints of gold, much too vibrant to be anything but human, their desire to consume beyond the cage that Julius' own will boxes them into. Yet it is ultimately a losing battle.

Much time passes, and there comes a point where he has to reach out and gently shake the Director by one shoulder, wondering if it had taken too much out of him. ]

Sion?

[demonly]

[ Rin watches the relative that addresses Crowley with a careful eye before averting his eyes back away out of habit. It's only after the relative is out of earshot that he speaks again. ]

I mean, we're both people, ain't we? [ Maybe that's as simple as it gets, but he doesn't see any need to think about it deeper than that. ] I don't think we're the same same, but...I don't think rich people are any more important than anyone else.

[ He mirrors Crowley's shrug with one of his own. Just because people were poor doesn't mean they deserved bad things to happen to them or didn't deserve the help of others. And Rin had a thought that if the same misfortunes that had fallen on Westerley had fallen onto Qresh or something, there'd be a much larger outrage - and that kind of thinking truly does bother him. ]

But I guess I'd get kinda bored living with all these rules and stuff too.

[slotted]

[ oh my god!! leo isn't that suspicious!!

but alright, he leaves once rhys has placed his order to prepare the drink and comes back a minute or two later to serve it. ]

Don't you do anything weird when you're drunk?

[slotted]

[ he commits the order to memory before muttering: ]

These things are boring no matter how energetic the people are, anyway.

[ but that's all he says before leaving to prepare the coffee. and he comes back a minute later to serve it, as well as milk, cream, and sugar. ]

[ofobedience]

[There's the slight sideways cant of Giovanni's head, the vague flicker of curiosity written on his face, but of course protocol is such that he wouldn't think to question a superior, least of all one of the Nine. Regardless of whether they're on first name terms or not. Even as the request comes phrased as a favour rather than a demand.

And so he doesn't ask, only nods his assent.]

Of course. No one will hear anything from me.

[refactor]

See, I'm with on on three outta four there, but dysentery? Pfft. Pretty sure, uh, last week proved that we've got waaaay cooler stuff ready to kick our ass disease wise.

[ To say the least, since Jack had been on the receiving end of it there himself. Though that's hardly the topic of conversation he's looking for, considering hallucinating monsters and volcanoes is weird, even by his standards. So, cards it is. He watches as Lavi sets all his cards in a stack, but with a shrug, he pushes more of his chips in with a casual smile. ]

Uh, raise, duh. I'm a risk-taker, kiddo.

[refactor]

[ The fact that he reaches for a lighter actually surprises Jack a little, but he gives a nod of appreciation before lighting it up. He takes a long drag on it as James looks, though his irritation doesn't subside all that much. He looks at his creation with a bitter expression, as if this was truly some kind of terrible, sinful beast he had created with his own hands, but he at least nods. ]

Yeah— Used to work engineering back before, uh, Intake. Made more of the Company's new crap than they even like to acknowledge.

[ Which might be surprising, since for all of Jack's...everything, he doesn't exactly come off as a technical person, much less a technical person that's good at it, if his words are to be believed. He's definitely exaggerating a little, but he had been chief engineer on a project or two.

The question gets Jack to sigh, and he walks over to give the poor robot a half-hearted kick, though the clang just echoes. At least it's durable, whatever it is. ]

I, uh. Hadn't thought that part through completely. I dunno, open doors? I don't want it to do much, just was bored and this is what I came up with. So, y'know, thanks, self, you're a real asshole.

[ for once jack speaks a 100% truth ]

[oneirism]

[She regrets nothing.

And she catches that edge of amusement, giving a soft, but amused, huff in return. Even if it's slight, she's glad she can get that reaction from him.]

You make it sound like I'm going to make you do something awful. [The playfulness is clear in her voice though, and her expression soon softens.]

And it's only if you want to.

[tousei]

He is very... intense.

[ The fullness of Sion's presence is blinding, sometimes. But it's not a bad thing. ]

I suppose I can try it.

[oneirism]

Intense is a good way to describe him.

[Not that she minds, either. It's a nice contrast compared to how she acts.]

Alright. [Since he's agreed to this, she opens her arms - ready for another hug.]

Ready, then?

[tousei]

[ sweating... ]

Right now? Alright...

[ He'll try to mirror her gesture, though it's still awkward. ]

[oneirism]

[She believes in you, Julius...

But okay, she'll not be mean and giggle at how he still seems to be awkward. Instead she'll close the distance and wrap her arms around him in a hug once more.]

This a bit better than before?

[tousei]

[ There's probably also something else she can feel - he's surprisingly thin, that he doesn't fill up his uniform anymore. Even his casual clothes, which were tailored for him, are a little loose. ]

I... think so.

[ Still awkward, but he's trying his best. ]

[oneirism]

[Feeling just how thin he is now prompts worry to swell up inside her once more, her brows furrowing for a moment. Then she pulls back slightly, hands shifting to gently rest on his shoulders.]

It's alright, it'll take some time to get used to. [A pause, then she glances over at the pantry for a moment.]

Have you eaten anything today?

catching your typos 2 tags too late, rip

[tirejacked]

[Why not both.

She'd done that during their little conversation, too. He tends to instigate reactions and let people rise to it and jump to their own conclusions. She doesn't fall for it easy.]

I like to think I'd know if I had any secret admirers.

[So, mostly the second. But if he's wrong about the first, please feel free to fill him in, bud. Unlike her, he seems perfectly comfortable with running his mouth while he's working. In fact, it's something of a reflex. Also unlike her, instead of experimentally pushing at his limits, he's hitting hard enough to take down. Taking openings to hit where it hurts rather than pull his punches or prolong the fight. It's not dirty as much as it's strightforward. The hotshot he'd dodged before tries to come back for another try. Jason ducks the swing and drags him back and drives a knee into his gut, pushing him away as he crumples.]

As flattered as I'd be by the attention, I'm a pretty private person.

[And not an easy one to follow.]

[sunderings]

Indisposed?

[ The Director, of course, knows the precise connotation of that word (tone and all), having been guilty of using it in place of wounded many a time before (and as late as this morning).

As such, it is only natural that the playful air about him tempers into something else—something gentle and understanding, apologetic in the way he bridges the distance between them with care, extending a hand (fingertips which will, uncannily, brush lightly against Saber's shoulder unless the touch should be pushed away) in silent question.

Saber... where are you hurt? ]

Another time will be for the best. [ —he assents, though the dress is boxed, given readily as a parting gift.

Saber just may approve of the Director's next decision: appointing himself to the position of "bag carrier and box holder", if only because he entrusts something far more practical to his guard for safekeeping: Company technology, typically reserved for certified medics or simply those with enough joy to spend. To Saber, a former Enforcer, the tool may be easily recognized as an optogen actuator, the device prompting immediate healing through light-based cellular stimulation.

This, perhaps, is by far more beneficial a token than any manner of garment, especially for a Reclamation Agent bold enough to take on a warrant while in less than optimal condition.

Consider it a "thank you" for putting up with this small excursion. ]

Will you do the honor of calling upon me, then, in this future where we walk the streets of the bazaar at our leisure? [ With a soft hum upon his lips, he sets to gathering their things: the dress box, the uniform which he'd all too readily discarded. ] Where you are able to take tea—

[ That cup is still full, isn't it, Saber? ]

—and we've the time to trade stories?

[impulsors]

[ Bad reflex: his shoulders knot tight before they ease again. The question's mild, not taunting, and he's pretty sure he remembers the face attached to it, one in a little raft of Level 4s he hasn't called to pry out a warrant. Not a fight, and the thought loosens his fists where they've knotted against the counter. He jerks his chin in brief almost-greeting. ]

. . . don't tell me.

[ But his voice runs dry, not mean. ]

You've licked a lot of donkeys in here.

[eleutheron]

Keep the peace, by any means necessary.

[ Emphasis on that last part. The Company expected that he wouldn't pull punches. They expect that of all their weapons--and he knows there are consequences for ignoring those expectations. He stares her down, his eyes bright with an almost alien glow. ]

What about you? What are your orders, Kate?