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]

Well...it might be a long shot, but I think maybe we could do something with it. Not--not like totally reverse the effects but I think there's a way we can still get money out of it.

Ships can't get to it so you have to travel by land there, which makes travel pretty precarious since there's tons of bandits out there right?

[rhygret]

Awww, you worried about me? [ Again that crooning voice, but Rhys actually does it in a well-meaning, play-joke kind of way. The sort of friendly teasing you do with friends and such.

IT MEANS HE LIKES YOU GIO. ]

Don't worry--I've got this.

[ No, he doesn't. ]

[ofobedience]

[...are you baby-talking at him? There's the slight uncertain tilt of his head, canine confusion, a look on his face that says he's trying to discern Rhys' meaning. But then he shrugs, seems to decide that it's another of his peculiarities-- he has very little experience with friendly teasing after all, and whilst some of his Handlers talk to him in a patronizing manner, he doesn't think this is it.

He gives Rhys a crooked smile, but something like concern still wavers around the edges of his expression.]

What kind of guard dog would I be if I didn't display concern for my--

[He's going to say masters, but changes his mind at the last moment, decides that Rhys probably wouldn't like that implication.]

--Boss. But if you insist. You know where I am.

[brickinthewall]

No.

[Said flatly.]

Just a thing I can do.

[It's the way she'd always said it was: a thing. No need to mention what it really was, nor was there any reason now to tell anyone that it wasn't even of her own volition to be this way.

Hack mods, at least, aren't uncommon. She leaves the answer vague and hopes to not get a follow up.

She doubts that's how it's going to go.]

[brokeassgoing]

[There sure was a moment there when Badou saw, not his life flash before his eyes, but a very different dog experience flashes through his head-- he can taste blood where he bites his lip so hard to distract himself-- to distract himself from doing anything incredibly fucking stupid.

Thankfully Giovanni releases him, and for a moment his head feels fuzzy, doesn't register toppling into a nearby chair while Heine's FUCKING BROTHER leaves.

If any chatter in this fine establishment had stopped during this little game (unlikely), it sure starts back up. Like nothing happened. After a moment:]

Fuck you too, you brother complex!

[tousei]

[ sweating... ]

I had some tea.

[ That's not food, Julius. ]

[servitor]

[Orders first, always.

Even if sometimes he decides orders can go screw themselves to get the job done.]

You're always welcome to the Fury once she's running again.

[shikomizue]

[Food growing cold and congealed sits on the small circular table of Lavi's quarters. It doesn't go unnoticed as a sign, along the glass of water unmarked by dirtied fingerprints, of their passenger's delirious - and distrustful - state.

Apprehension isn't unexpected - Takasugi has come armed out of his own caution - though the degree to which it's painted on the redhead's body is dully amusing.

An intricate game of showing obvious suspicion to wipe away any veneer of lies, their sheen already pierced... or a simple case of exhaustion. Either way, Takasugi sees nothing but a creature forcing poise through pain.

He doesn't need a conclusion - his agenda doesn't hinge on the knots their communication may tie. Takasugi has come to confirm what he'd seen through the feed of the rescued party's boarding - a familiar boy surrounded by fire.

Though now, he supposes, those flames have long been extinguished.]

Heh. [Takasugi echoes Lavi's laugh, his voice stretched thin. From their cadence, one would assume their roles reversed - Lavi content among familiar holdings and Takasugi only narrowly slipping from the grip of death.] Three hours or so... [His confirmation is accompanied by a finger tapping idly on the stem of his pipe.] While we wait, I'd like to hear the story of Mother Nature's promise.

Unless you have something better for me. [He lets his body sink into a ledge on the wall, seated and sprawled. Running checks on the redhead had revealed am unfamiliar name - Lavi - and a particularly interesting association with a certain rough-spoken agent.

There are quite a few stories he wants to hear, and he has time enough to coax forth whichever threads he can twine his fingers in.]

[slotted]

Are you telling me you want me to be drunk right now?

[ look. rhys is being sassy. leo may as well retaliate. he's not nothing to lose!!! except his job but... eh. ]

[rhygret]

[ L E O that is a pretty important thing to lose??? ]

Well not--not right now since you're still technically getting us drinks. But after if you want, knock yourself out. [ because he'll have what he needs which is his drink eyyy ]

[shikomizue]

[Reckless.

Consequences - and Takasugi can think of many - be damned.

Looking for a fight he can actually sink his teeth into - their banter real and Takasugi's question a mere wisp of imagination.

The man replies with a curt laugh, his head lulling forward as his shoulders shake only to settle sunken lower than before.] You'd see them both strewn across the street by morning.

You may have been born a Westie, but you don't share their burdens. Has the RAC lightened your load? [No, it hasn't. But he'll at least imply an explanation for the benefit of neutrality.]

[iuramentum]

[ Again, she jerks away from the shot, dodging by such a narrow margin that a few blonde wisps are left in her wake as the bullet shears through one side of her bangs.

A beat later and Saber closes the gap in short order with a flurry of blows. It's a little slower and weaker than she's normally capable of, considering her grip is weakened considerably by her injury. ]

[eggplanting]

That second one.

[It's weird talking about this with someone, when usually she would have just kept it to herself, but Rhys knows now and it's-- she trusts him. Even if he's a bit of a dick sometimes.]

I don't know why, it's just like, familiar.

[shikomizue]

[Watching the child leave is rather poetic, Takasugi thinks, as the girl vanishes from sight. With nothing more than a name, the memory of a childhood violently torn away seems to resurface.

It's a longing, a suffocating pain he has shared - though feeling the gentle winds of Leith only reminds him of the youth he'd escaped.]

Not influence, but purpose. [He doesn't pressure her with eye contact - instead lingering on the girl's trodden path to the house.] It's where you're needed. For every homeless child here walking through sun-spotted field, there are ten wandering the gutters of Old Town.

[slotted]

I just might. For the sole reason that we had a guest today that was weirder than I am.

[ THAT'S YOU.

his eyes even widen a little as he tries to shoot rhys a piercing gaze. ]

[shikomizue]

[As Takasugi sets the bottle of wine by the leg of his chair he gratifies Rhys's humor with a chuckle, light and pitched well above his voice's lilting baritone.] I'm happy to help.

[A beat. He sets the glasses down near the bottle.] You don't need to worry about any reparations or reward.

I imagine there's enough going on in your head without it. [It's entitled to decline something that hasn't been offered - but that's an attitude Takasugi assumes Rhys is accustomed to, being among the nobility and the Company alike.]

[shikomizue]

[Oh Rhys, there are so many more deplorable things about yourself you could pose as reasons to be hated.

Takasugi raises an eyebrow, keening his head upwards in 'interest'.] Have you made your support of the Accords known?

Or are you concerned about alienating your potential benefactors? [Ultimately, it's better to win sway with those who hold the money.]

[eggplanting]

Either. Both.

[Neither are particularly good options, but the third option, that she chose it, isn't much more reassuring.]

If it'd been from physical trauma surely I would've noticed, there would've been bruising or something, but I felt fine physically.

[shikomizue]

[It's her thoughts he's inviting with vague statements - Takasugi greets her response with an easy smile, an acquiescing nod.]

Ah, thank you. [He takes the compliment with graciously, closing the instrument's case soundlessly.] The shamisen, though you won't hear it much outside of Edo. [A planet only some know of, so he moves on-]

That's a good approach - you'll gain more from listening than you will from talking. [What it is she seeks to gain, however, Takasugi has yet to discern.] Do you find what you're hearing to be uplifting?

[somnusrex]

"Yeah, and I'm tired. So are you, so quit trying to stay awake until you hurt yourself."

Ryner was a little grumpy about it, but not terribly so. Sion had always protested against any sort of orders, but Ryner had never really cared. He just wanted to help as much as he could. It had nothing to do with trying to be in power, he just wanted to take care of the Director since there was really no way he'd take care of himself.

"I'm going to sleep, but quit being so stubborn. You need to rest too. I'll join you at the desk if you get some sleep. We're both exhausted, and trying to do paperwork isn't going to do much for either of us when we're both so tired. Quit being so dumb, you know as well as I do that you can't be at your best when you refuse to take care of yourself. I'll help when we wake up."

He was fine with collecting data, but it was frustrating that Sion always seemed to keep him from going to a place that could cause him harm. He decided to wait to see what happened, although he wasn't expecting anything different than usual.

He sighed. "I know you don't regret it. But it doesn't mean you deserved it. just because you went willingly doesn't mean you should have experienced the things they did to you."

And with that, he put his arm around Sion. He felt his body tense, and worried about him. Probably too much.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll surprise you. You okay? We can go to the med bay if you need to..."

Feeling Sion tense had him worried.

[iuramentum]

A minor annoyance.

[ The contact, the concern... it's pleasant and unnerving in equal measure. Saber clearly looks conflicted about it prior to defaulting to her usual method of "dealing with uncomfortable situations".
That is, taking a step back to maintain her personal space bubble. Stop caring about her well being, Sion. It's weird.

AWKWARDLY CLEARING HER THROAT okay change of subject. ]

I... suppose that could be arranged, if schedules permit.

[ It's not a straight up agreement, but it's still some form of cautious assent. Pretty rare considering she has the habit of filling her free time with more work.

Now she'll just grab their boxes and -----



Oh. Well. I guess he could just get there first I guess, that's fine too.
SION SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DOING THE WORK HERE YOU'RE MAKING HER FEEL INCOMPETENT... ]

[affinities]

[Honestly, who would have expected to be going on about the food being offered this much? But now that it's been mentioned, it makes Corrin wonder.

Sure, it may just be an oversight. That's the simplest explanation, and very likely true. However, it's not entirely out of the question that there's more to it. There usually is, he's learned, with these people. He's only been able to interact with them for a brief period of time, of course, but every interaction feels like it's full of cleverly veiled insults behind a thin veneer of politeness.

He's probably just reading too much into it. There's no guarantee that it means anything at all, and he feels like he's being unnecessarily harsh in his thoughts, when this was supposed to be about peace.]

Is that so? [He runs a hand through his hair, frowning slightly.]

I'll see that you and the others have fresher food too choose from-- well, the chips, at least, and extra guacamole. [That's not all the help he's going to offer others, not by a long shot, but even something like this might be important. A tiny step in fostering better feelings, however ridiculous it might seem.

He smiles, both at how silly he knows he sounds, and because he's hopeful that he might be able to cheer somebody up.] How does that sound, for a start?

[affinities]

[All Leo is doing is making Corrin want to find out more about him. What kind of person is always in trouble and treats it like it's not big deal? And brushing him off like that... the man is clearly lacking in friends.

Still, he did risk getting into more trouble, so Corrin simply nods and picks the brandy up, taking a tentative sip of the drink. His eyes widen.]

Oh-- this is... [It's not terrible. But. Something about the sharpness of the mint is disagreeing with the slight sweetness of the brandy and Corrin isn't quite sure how to describe it.

He manages a smile, bobbing his head appreciatively.] It's different from what I'm used to. You managed to surprise me!

[affinities]

[Crimes... prices... hold please.

Oh, he gets it. The prices are ridiculously high. That's what happens when supply and demand run wild, and the merchants never seem to tire of charging as much as they could anyway.

He's never heard anyone complain about prices quite like that before, so Corrin chuckles despite how cheesy it sounded. He'll probably end up using that line on someone else sometime.]

I've been steering clear of trouble, too. [Except for ditching the servant he had come to the bazaar with because they kept fussing over him, but details.]

With all of the ah, stress everyone has been under, it isn't easy to find time to relax, but I'm happy to hear that you've been alright.

[He glances at the bag of mystery food Vaughn is carrying.] Were you about to eat? I didn't mean to interrupt.

[rhygret]

I haven't even talked to a single glass yet, how am I being weird?

[ Look okay so long as he has this buffer he wins inside his own head ]