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]

[ He's not exactly the genius he's trying to make himself out to be, but he does have a fairly level head on his shoulders when it counts. Or if it's an area he knows well, and his plan happens to be one of them...ish. There's a lot that's still in progress but he'd like to think it's really starting to come along now. The groundwork is almost halfway done. ]

Well the start-up will have to be mostly me and outside investments, but once things are up and running it should start turning around. Land is money, even if it's in the wasteland. You just have to find a use for it.

[eggplanting]

Glad to know we're on the same page.

[She hears the fondness, but they've definitely filled their quota of sappy shit for the day, so she won't comment on it.]

Now I definitely better get you back before people start thinking we're up to something.

[eggplanting]

Why do I get the feeling you're being cheeky with me?

[It's probably because of that smile.]

[ofobedience]

[And perhaps he is, just a little. Subtle playfulness that he thinks he may be able to get away with.]

As if I would.

[Said with that same soft wryness, and then he's lifting one of the sandwiches she brought him. Takes a bite.]

[refactor]

[ Don't bother thinking about it too hard, Alice. Jack's way with words is... uniquely his own. To put it nicely and lightly.

Her humble response gets Jack to smile a little more softly, and he takes a better look at what she's gathered now that he knows that it really is all her work. Now, granted, the whole helping the needy thing isn't really his thing, since he has his sights set quite a bit higher than that, but you know, respect where it's due. Someone has to, even if it's not him. He's just making the world safer for the needy. ]

Pretty impressive, y'know? If no one else is doing this, you've got yourself a niche market.

[ He speaks in business terms, but it's in jest. At this point, he thinks he has a hang of how she's sorting things, so he steps forward to help. ]

Hey, sure they'll appreciate it too. Kinda easy to focus on the big picture AKA adults, so taking care of the kids this way is, uh- Well, its' good. Obviously.

[refactor]

Huh.

[ His first response is that simple syllable, hummed out thoughtfully more than anything. There's a brief pause as he considers that to himself, and the gears in his head get to turning, because he can't help himself, almost. When he learns something that interesting, his immediate thought goes to how he could use it. And truth be told, considering his line of work? He has a few ideas. ]

That's pretty damn interesting. Gotta ask, though— What makes it different? Guess it doesn't really matter, considering the end result would be, uh, the same. But, hey. Call it curiosity.

[eleutheron]

[ Fenris sees stars. His head throbs from the force of Hawke's rock-hard forehead (unsurprising, he thinks dimly, somewhere in the back of his unbidden mind), and he's momentarily stunned. It's more than enough time for her to knock him down, but he has no intention of handing over the advantage. As soon as his back slams into the ground, he's kicking up at her stomach, hard, with the sharp, bony edge of his knee. He snarls, digging his nails into her arms, his circuitry flashing.

He's got a lean frame and a wiry body, but his corded muscles belie his strength. He grunts as he grabs for her waist, intending to throw her off and over his body, to crush her to the pavement just as she's done to him. ]

[eleutheron]

But they're not.

[ He says this pointedly as he gestures to Vaughn, indicating not just his better class of PDD, but his person in general. Clean, well-kept, well-fed. Not of a piece with the average citizen, especially not the sweating, bleeding laborers who are causing chaos in the streets. ]

It doesn't matter whether you subscribe to the Company's doctrine, or to their attitude towards this place. You condone it merely by working for them.

[ He mutters. ]

As do I.

[ But he's honest about it, at least. ]

[rhygret]

I...yeah. [ Rhys has definitely caused Lavi enough trouble on this trip so far. The last thing he wants to do is make this any worse for him after the whole bandit fiasco. ]

I'll try to turn in for a bit. How much longer until we dock again?

[rhygret]

Well, seeing as how I just ran out after an employee...IIIII'm pretty sure they're already talking. But thanks. [ For that adorable excuse and concern. But he's got that doofy smile back on even as he's trying to play it cool, nudging her with his arm a little. ]

Let's see if we can't turn at least a few of those obnoxious heads our way and get this Badlands thing off the ground huh?

[inksplashes]

Now that's the kinda hero I could get behind.

[ He moves his hand as if to touch the other's shoulder before thinking better of it and drawing back, sheepish smile offered by way of apology. Ordinarily, Lavi is more than happy to sling his arm around a stranger's neck or give them a good pat on the back.. but maybe doing that to dignitaries at a tense-enough peace summit isn't the best idea.

Instead, he schools his expression into something passing for stoic and folds his arms over his chest (lest those overly familiar hands forget their place again), bowing his ember-shaded head.

(Basically, he's applying the WWYD philosophy. Yu would look very manly and very scary, all brooding silence and unfriendliness, and more importantly, super cool.

Lavi can't really pull off any of those qualities, but he gives it a good faith effort, smile taking a much more subdued quality than before.) ]

Corrin, huh? Nice to meetcha. I'm Lavi. I'll be sure to sign up for your fanclub when your legend spreads!

[inksplashes]

[ Excuse you Rin?! He can't help that he has Anime Metabolism and eats three bowls of food but looks two steps from malnutrition anyway!!

Leveling a mock-glare at the offending finger, Lavi squirms as much as a stitched together midsection allows him, batting at the hand and launching a counter-poke. ]

Look who's talking! All that monk-food needs more fat in it, you're gonna disappear you get any skinnier.

[ ..and then a dramatic pause and sigh, head hanging. ]

It's so hard, Rin...

..all he ever wants to eat is soba...

[ Life is suffering. ]

At least if I had a partner like you, I'd get different kinds of beansprout..

[inksplashes]

[ That's pretty much Westerley, yeah.

Vague wave returned before his hands find home in pocket again, Lavi shrugs a shoulder half-heartedly and turns on his heel. ]

I'm pretty buoyant, luckily.

[ And stubborn to boot. Hopefully those qualities can survive his Shonen Protag tendencies. ]

Catcha' later, Nailchu.

[eggplanting]

I don't work directly for you!

[This feels Important To Clarify because like... reasons? It feels important to clarify for a reason that she can't quite put her finger on but probably has something to do with how inappropriate it would be if he was her boss.]

But yeah, um, Badlands. I'll try not to yell at anyone this time, promise.

[inksplashes]

[ It's a sweet, albeit somewhat naive point of view. Lavi conceals this thought behind the usual smile, head tilting slightly in acknowledgment of her intentions. What good will an education do on a world where the mettle of a man is perpetually tested by the elements?

When making it is synonymous with eating more than once a day?

Blinking at the swift spiral of his thoughts, Lavi pushes those ideas aside. No, she can't fix a broken system or save everyone with her intentions, but she can help, and the last thing she needs is someone telling her not to bother.

Carefully, then: ]

Yeah? You already got something set up?

[shikomizue]

A few hours. [Vague not to mislead but simply because Takasugi has no reason to keep track of the time so thoroughly. Squinting at a clock would dull the only slight buzz between his eyes gained from emptying his drink.

Ah, on that subject.] You should drink that, the alcohol will help you unwind. [On the battlefield, years ago, it was booze that soothed scared soldiers to sleep, not platitudes or a comfortable place to rest their head.]

[inksplashes]

Ahuh...

[ His voice sounds distant and distracted, attention still directed towards the east. There's nothing there to explain his sense of unease, and after a few long seconds of staring into the fathomless dunes, he tamps down the feeling. Gut instincts can be useful in his line of work, but likewise, they have a tendency to bleed through everything else until occupational paranoia becomes wanton suspicion.

Sighing, Lavi pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering beneath his breath about 'turning into Yu' as he turns back around to resume his quasi-interrogation about the young Kendry's activities. ]

Takes ya an hour just to scan stuff? Y'know, I could've just brought you rock. Saved you from clogging up that complexion.

[affinities]

[The gesture catches him off guard, and he tilts his head for a few moments, trying to figure it out. His concept of propriety is admittedly still something that he needs to work on, but when he realizes that such a familiar gesture would likely have been interpreted as improper, he can only smile softly in acknowledgment.

He certainly wouldn't have been offended himself, but he appreciates that someone else is keeping proper behavior in mind. He stands up a bit straighter himself, in fact.]

It's nice to meet you as well, Lavi. You'll be one of the first members of that club, I'm sure.

[But wait, he has a sudden thought, and can't resist asking an honest question. He glances around, then lowers his voice, just in case.]

Although... are Killjoys even allowed to join fanclubs? Isn't that against the rules?

[shikomizue]

[Whatever Rhys would like to think...

Takasugi is happy to let him.

It's a drag, to pull his eye from the passerby to focus on Rhys with the most interest he can feign through a slight alcohol-induced haze. Takasugi keeps his arms draped on the bar, focus locked as the explanation unfolds.]

Hmm- [He lets the machinations of Rhys's mind - so eagerly shared - teem between them before speaking,] A sound plan.

Groundbreaking, even...

Provided money is enough to soothe the enraged hearts of Westerley's people. [He shrugs, because, honestly,] And it very well may be.

[brokeassgoing]

Buoyant my ass-- [scoffing] Get the hell outta here.

[luckily he does that for them, heading on into the fray]

[inksplashes]

More common than you know.

[ A sharp note there, weary and worn down in a way that doesn't fully fit with his state of physical exhaustion. It's a voice instead of an experience lived too many times to spark emotion, something rote and redundant however secretive it might be.

(Every story of humanity ends in the fireworks that had blistered the sky that night. Every word and action devolves into the rubble and detritus of war.

It's just the nature of the species, so far as this historian can tell.) ]

You know how it goes, yeah?

[ Casual, lilting--his expression subtly shifting into something a little slier. It's probably a rhetorical question. ]

People get up in arms about workin' conditions. They rebel. They're crushed.

'Cept..

[ He hums, shaking his head lightly and ignoring the involuntary wince that results. ]

Nah, just conspiracy theories. I'm sure you've got better things to do than listen to somethin' like that.

[ Besides, it seems to him that this ship's captain would be far better suited to expanding on those theories than Lavi. ]

IT'S ok i'm so behind...

[inksplashes]

[ Never??

He sighs, a touch of exasperation in it as he waves a hand over the board, still not making his move. ]

I'm here to help train you, y'know. I'm not your competition.

[ Not yet, anyway.

If she prefers competition to cooperation, she'll be better served in Kanda's domain than Lavi's, but he flashes a weary smile and advances his own piece on the board finally. ]

But we can do it your way too. I never can say no to a pretty lady~

[shikomizue]

[His smile wanes - corners tugging downwards and eye dulling for only a moment before his focus swims from the vacuum between them to bore into Lavi's fatigued, dark eye. Tragedies are so common they're constant - he knows this well.

The comment was clearly meant as a segue, but it digs into him regardless, eliciting reminders of the pyre licking at his ribs, always burning with the raging flames that still consume him.

They'll envelop all else as well, he knows because he'll see to it himself.

Such a thought guides his face back to a sharp grin.] Conspiracy theories... or wishful thinking?

Blame the Company and be burned with the rest of them, or blame your neighbor and spit in the ashes of their memory. Wouldn't it be easier to give responsibility for such a terror to another force entirely?

[He shrugs - apparently having better things to do than elaborate on ravings of confused reports but not too busy to spin vague questions they both know aren't quite relevant.]

[moneyman]

[ they sure don't. then again, he could say the same about himself. ]

Awesome. [ he's beaming. he can't help it. ] "Liaison," that sounds so cool and formal. Though I was hoping I could go places with you, too. I mean, even if I can't... do anything super helpful. It'd be fun.

[ what abandonment issues?? ]

[moneyman]

[ this isn't exactly a revelation to him. he's thought about it before. it's so easy to ignore at home and at work, but whenever he comes here it slaps him in the face again. it should, honestly. these things aren't okay.

it makes him feel kinda sick. he has a lot more thinking to do. ]

...Yeah. You're right. [ he's not sure if he should feel comforted that this man also works for the Company, but he does. just a little bit, if only because it means they have something in common after all. ] What, uh... what do you do, if you don't mind me asking?