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

steph brown | westerley | week 6

[eggplanting]

Good Will Corps - Summit; OTA

[Steph feels a little weird about being at the Summit, when she signed up with the Good Will Corps it was because she wanted to help by doing something, and words aren't exactly her strong suit. Half the Good Will Corps seemed to be invited, which makes it a little less awkward, though she still isn't quite sure what her purpose is supposed to be.

It seems important, at least, to be a Leithian and a Company employee who isn't… terrible, who doesn't hold anything against Westerley just for their existence, so she shows up every day and tries to listen, even if she doesn't have much to contribute. As far as she can see, there isn't an easy solution to all the problems, but she can understand the frustration of Westies in a way that sits like a familiar weight in her chest.

So when some fancy-looking Leithian starts spouting off about how Westies don't deserve a replacement for the Accords after they poisoned people, Steph can't keep her mouth shut.]

You can't just blame an entire population for the actions of a few of them, that's shitty!

[She's not exactly eloquent but she's gonna (verbally) fight this dude anyway.]

Fight club; I discussed this option with a couple people feel free to jump in if you want!!

[Ever since the hijacking attempt over the Badlands, something has been itching under Steph's skin, a need to find the ease and familiarity she felt while dodging and throwing punches again. She has no idea what it means, but it's something to hold on to when not a lot else makes sense to her, so she does. It isn't a plan, ending up in the basement of a sleazy bar surrounded by a shouting crowd, but she was in the bar having a drink when she overheard a couple talking about the fighting going on downstairs, and she'd been curious.

Twenty minutes later, she'd ended up in the haphazardly drawn ring.

It's not the same as the fight in the Badlands, there's less desperation but the fights go on longer, requiring a little more thought than it did before, when she can't just rely on pure instinct to carry her through each moment, which results in her taking a few more hits than she did before. They don't bother her as much as she feels like it should, the pain is there, but it's easy to push away.

Even though she's taking some hits, she's still damn good, and she's still enjoying the hell out of this. Adrenalin is a hell of a drug, especially when combined with the thrill of knowing something, more than just the way she can fly and cook and do all those boring everyday things. A kick connects with someone's chest, knocking the breath out of them, and it feels like coming home.]

summit

[ofobedience]

[He's conducting another sweep of the periphery of the venue when Steph finds him, his face fixed into something impassive and cool despite the boredom that buzzes and scrabbles beneath his skin, like an itch that's situated too deep to scratch. It's not the kind of job he enjoys, all this inertia, this waiting around, but perhaps - after everything, the mania that had overtaken him - this kind of relatively sedate work is exactly what he needs.

He knows she's coming before he sees her, hears the movement of her feet, catches her particular scent, and by the time she comes into view he already has his chin tilted up in greeting, face splitting on a subtle smile. He's not supposed to be socialising - never is, technically - and yet there's a flicker of vague emotion on seeing her, something almost (almost) pleased. He stands still then, back straight and arms loose at his sides, waits for her to reach him.]

Ms. Brown.

[eggplanting]

Hey, pup.

[Apparently she's going to stick with that little nickname, though she'd checked that the Handler was in another corridor before addressing Giovanni, not wanting to get him into any shit.

That's also important for the next part, because she has a plate of sandwiches, which she holds out for Giovanni.]

I thought you might be hungry.

[ofobedience]

[A nickname he seems to have accepted-- there's a slight wry twist to his lips when he hears it - it's something so small and soft, unbefitting him, he thinks - but he makes no protest or comment either. He's been called worse things, and the fact that she has her own name for him, well. Strangely, it ignites a brief bright feeling behind his ribs, something he doesn't know how to name.

Still, he tilts his head a little to one side as she holds the plate out, both confused and mildly surprised.]

You didn't need to do that. The way they made me, I don't really require food.

[He's built for endurance, after all, designed to survive almost anything, but he extends a hand to accept it all the same. Perhaps he doesn't need to eat, but that doesn't mean he dislikes to.]

[eggplanting]

It's food for the soul, then.

[There's a difference between need or want, and even though the sandwiches aren't anything amazing, Steph always finds food kind of reassuring and comforting. Even if Giovanni doesn't need to eat, he can still want it, and that's what matters to Steph.]

[ofobedience]

Oh, I doubt I have one of those.

[Half jocular, half truth-- can something manufactured by human hands ever be said to have a soul, after all? Even as he's aware it isn't how she meant it, and the intention behind his words is largely light-hearted.

He accepts the plate, leans back against the wall.]

Thank you, all the same.

[eggplanting]

Does anyone?

[It's said just as lightly, though there's maybe a bit more seriousness to it than Giovanni's tone, just because she's trying to kind of put them on even playing field.

Steph's never been very spiritual, so for all she knows, souls don't even exist.]

[ofobedience]

[He shrugs then, small and a little stiff. Lips curved into a vague kind of smile.]

I really wouldn't know. It was intended as a joke, and - surprise - theology really isn't my strong suit.

[He lifts a sandwich then, examines it idly.]

But if you want my opinion-- no. We're all just meat, at the end of the day.

[eggplanting]

You could probably put it a little nicer than that, but I don't think you're wrong.

[Meat isn't the nicest way to describe people, but she'll let it slide this time.]

We're all just the chemicals and shit in our brains.

[That's so much more poetically worded, good job Steph.]

summit | ADDS MORE THREADS

[rhygret]

[ Ohhhhh boy. That's, yep that sure is a thing Steph just went out and said. Rhys technically agrees with the Leithian on what he says, but seeing all eyes dart to Steph, many narrowing with derisive distaste makes him worried. As a Kendry maybe a little? Technically she is his pilot. But it's much more as a friend because he worries about her and one of the on;y good things he can do is talk his way out of stuff.

...Usually.

He's actually better at convincing people to do stuff? Whatever. Rhys sees a chance to step in and quickly clears his throat, moving to her side quickly. Something to take attention away from her. People already hate him for being a Kendry--it can't be any worse. ]

Okaaaay, let's all just--just take a second to calm down a little yeah? We're all upset about what happened, we don't need to yell at each other.

uh rude

[eggplanting]

[There is a cold fury burning in her chest that she can't place, that she's never quite felt before, until being confronted with the sheer desperation on Westerley and the indifference of rich Leithians that have never starved in their life.

(Neither has she, or at least, she thinks she hasn't.)

Even when Rhys steps in, her jaw clenches, but his presence is a reminder that people are looking at her, and that there are more important things that yelling at some asshole. Rhys has actual power, maybe to do something, and she isn't going to screw that up by dragging him into a petty argument.

Though she's still not... entirely willing to let go of her anger.]

I hope you sleep well at night.

[The words are cutting, but she turns on her heel and storms off, kind of... kind of just hoping Rhys will follow but not wanting to ruin her dramatic exit by actually like, checking.]

rudes you

[rhygret]

[ S T E P H......

Granted Rhys doesn't follow immediately. He has to laugh a tad awkwardly and flash some sort of bullshit smile. Gotta save face in front of all the many, many people who probably already want him dead, yup. ]

Ahahah, she's...h-her. I sh-should go...check on a thing, so-- [ VAGUE GESTURES GO HERE now that he's got all these lovely glares on him, and for once Rhys doesn't actually care if running after someone much lesser than him makes him look bad. Steph's a friend. She matters.

So Rhys clears his throat and offers a short 'sorry' (which raises a few brows) before he turns and quickly hurries to catch up to her outside the main room. ]

Hey, hey...! Wait up.

that sounds unpleasant

[eggplanting]

[Not fair from the main room she finds an abandoned hallway and stops there, leaning with her back against the wall and fists clenched at her sides, which is the best she can do on the wait up front when she's so angry.

As soon as Rhys is close enough, she starts talking.]

Fuck all of them. How can they be so selfish when people are dying?

[She is suddenly furious at herself, for every time she's just stayed back and done nothing, not wanting to stick her neck out. It feels just as bad as what everyone else is doing.]

quite possibly

[rhygret]

[ If it helps any, Rhys does look sympathetic. He understands feeling angry and frustrated at circumstances beyond one's ability to control them. That was his reality growing up for a long time.

What he finds it harder to do is empathize with her viewpoint that things are an injustice. He's...Kendry, and even if he doesn't agree with everything they do he's still been raised like one of them. The bombing hadn't affected him, but the pathogen? Rhys definitely holds a grudge over that. ]

Well...I mean, the original deal was that if you and your family were loyal then the Accords would go through. It's. It's hard to do that when a lot of people are...they they're just. Killing people, you know? They're upset.

[eggplanting]

Then find who did it and take them off the Accords!

[She wants to hit something, a wall or a stupid fucking True Leithian or some stuck up Qreshi, because she's got all this anger and frustration and has no idea what to do with it.

It's not fair, none of this is.]

Most of the people who died were Westies, no one asked their opinion before doing this, it's all--

[Her mouth shuts, because she's angry, but she's trying not to say anything too bad about Kendry, about the Nine, because Rhys is still her friend.]

[rhygret]

[ Honestly Rhys is just happy she's not mad at him. Rhys is for the cessation of the Accords, if they're going to let a few ruin the many then shouldn't they work even harder to stay in line? It makes sense to him... ]

Well yeah but it was Resistance people from Westerley and Leith who caused all the attacks right? And... [ Maybe Hyponia. But Rhys isn't sure he should say that. ] It's--it's complicated right? I'm not saying they deserve it, but it's the only way they think they can get all of them, you know? Who knows how far their reach is, who was involved?

[eggplanting]

And the Nine don't have the resources to figure it out?

[It feels like they wanted to take the easy way out, strike down the Accords because it was what they wanted in the end, anyway. It doesn't matter to them that people's lives are effected.]

Was there proof, a trial? Isn't that how this shit is supposed to work?

(ง •̀_•́)ง

[tirejacked]

[After the past several days, the tension in the air hasn't much budged away from "oppressive". Everyone's feeling it—and Jason's always been one to keep his hands busy and his finger on the pulse of things.

Maybe that's why he changes gears when he recognizes her. Stephanie Brown. Leithan, Company pilot, chased off a bunch of would-be hijackers singlehandedly not too long ago. Impressive for someone who wouldn't cop any more experience than some self defense classes. There'd been something fishy about it. The kind of thing that sounds right but feels wrong, sticks in the back of your head and waits for you to figure out what you're missing. Like fitting a square peg in a round hole. At the time, she hadn't been his fish to fry, and he'd let it go. He'd had crooks to catch, a warrant to wrap up, and time was a factor.

When she ducks downstairs—he knows what's going on down there, it's hardly a well-kept secret—he sets his drink down to follow.

He watches the first round. Then stands to sidle his way into the running for the second. (No one seems to have many objections after she'd fought her way through the first wave.)

The bell rings to signal the start. Six fighters in separate corners, battle royale style. Winner take all. She winds a guy twice her size by landing a kick into his chest. Jason sidesteps the swing of an overeager tough-guy from his corner and floors him before he can recover, which brings him just close enough to Steph to say hello. Without taking his eyes off the rest of the ring—]

Don't tell me you want and took my advice.

[About changing careers. Hi.]

steph every day

[eggplanting]

[It's enough of a surprise that she stumbles for a second, managing to dodge at the last second when one of the other fighters takes a swing at her.]

Are you following me?

[She mostly just sounds surprised, rather than actually accusatory, because surely he is not, in fact, following her.]

it's a living.

[tirejacked]

Who, me?

[Well. No, but also...yes, if you're going to get all technical. Only a little. In his defense, he didn't follow her very far. A wiry woman throws a punch in his direction, and he catches it, twisting her wrist back and driving a knee into her gut. She stumbles back, gasping.]

I'm beating the crap out of a bunch of knuckleheads because I could use the cardio.

[I mean, don't you think he'd be a little sneakier if he was pulling any stalker bullshit? Give him a little credit.]

What about you?

get busy punching or get busy dying

[eggplanting]

[Downside to this little interlude: Steph is kind of out of practice with the whole fighting thing and holding a conversation is tricky while also trying to avoid getting punched in the face.

Upside is that she's actually kind of curious to see how Jason handles himself.]

What about me as in am I following you or as in why am I here?

[Just to clarify!!

And once she's got that question out she focuses most of her attention back on the guy who swung at her, ducking past a second punch to hit him hard in the sternum with the butt of her palm. When he wheezes and bends over, she moves in close to hook her leg around the back of his knee and knock him onto his back.

She doesn't really care that much about winning, this is about figuring out what her body knows how to do, so she's taking her time with it.]

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.]

if it helps i did not see them

[eggplanting]

I don't even remember your name.

[That's a bit of a lie, since she's fairly certain it's Jason, though she's not entirely sure and anyway, the point is that she had promptly moved on from their initial meeting because she had other, more important shit to worry about.

More important things like dodging backwards to avoid another couple of punches, this time she focuses on swerving and blocking, rather than striking back just yet. Let them tire themselves out, she's got energy for days.]

[tirejacked]

Gosh, I'm hurt.

[He's not. Anyway, as they rapidly start to thin the ranks around them—]

That answers one question.

[Gonna give the second a go, or does he get to live in suspense?]

[eggplanting]

[He seems like the type to not actually give a shit about whether people remember him, so she highly doubts that.

As she dodges another couple of punches, going low to avoid the attacks, she adds:]

Thought I could use the extra money.

[For why she's here, although it's a straight up lie. She's not going to tell him she's trying to figure out why she can fight so easily.]