overjoyed_logs | (closed) storms make the oaks grow deeper roots

[Cell leader, huh? Good to know he has some clout in the Resistance. His skills have been acknowledged, and he has been trusted with heading an operation that could finally make something meaningful happen. John Steinbeck wants to strike while the iron is hot - sure, they could move around supplies and whatnot for years, but he wants to see the Company topple sooner rather than later. His family deserves that. Now, without the Accords, their work over the years had basically been erased.]

[It makes Steinbeck livid in ways he didn't even know he could be.]

[He makes his way easily to the safe house. The bunker is worn, it's seen better times, but Steinbeck doesn't care. It's hidden in plain sight, that's what is important. It's a good place to group up and discuss plans without worrying about prying eyes and ears. He takes a moment to assess what the bunker contains, before he makes his way to the holoprojector, which looks so shiny and new compared to the rest of the place. He looks for a button - there is none - before he sees the indention.]

[Ah, well now, he is always willing to bleed for the cause.]

[He nicks his thumb and places it against the indention, watching as the screen lights up, and the conversation opens. Now, he can figure out what Hyperion wants from him.]

Oh, hello now. You're from Hyperion, aren't ya?

Edited 2017-02-17 20:18 (UTC)

[The figure - eyes obscured as the video signal navigates the depths underground - wearing a pleasant, almost doll-like smile, gives a nod.

Both in greeting, and confirmation.] That's correct, my friend. [Well-enunciated formality betrayed by a tongue-and-cheek cadence. As if the man is on the edge of laughter.]

Ah. One moment. It's difficult to trust a man when you can't see his eyes, don't you think? [He sways out of frame, returning as the noise disappears and the video grows crisp.] There, much better.

Rather difficult, yes.

[He doesn't know what to make of this man. He seems well-polished in ways that make Steinbeck more wary than ever. Where did this Hyperion come from? What did they really want? Questions and more questions spring to mind, but for now, he'll just fall back on one:]

What's your name, stranger?

[He brings a curled finger to his lips, a pause to think before he answers with an apologetic smile.] You can call me Hyperion.

[His posture slackens then, betraying the pristine cut of his coat with a languid slouch.] I have a theory, do you want to hear it?

[Clearly, he wants to tell you.]

Edited 2017-02-24 21:58 (UTC)

Alright, Hyperion. [He almost wants to roll his eyes. He's following the orders of someone. Someone mysterious who clearly doesn't want to give him all the details he wants. Great.]

Yes, sure. Go right on ahead.

[He might have expected some resistance, eyes widened in brief surprise before his smile grows, laced with something dark.]

So we all know that the rich hate the poor, the poor hate the rich. [Rattled off facts given no real weight.] And of course the poor will eat each other if there's nothing else left, while the rich use one another as stepping stones. [Moving to the revelation-] Now, those things are just done for survival, there's no emotion in it other than, 'not me, not me!'

[A beat.]

But I think the underprivileged are just teeming with hatred. Ready to slit the throat of their neighbor for no reason other than, 'not you, not you!'

It would only make sense if the same happens for the privileged! What do you think?

[He's silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, almost too calm. He smiles. His eyes don't.]

You sure like to simplify things, don't you, Mr. Hyperion? I'm sure the poor would have a lot to say if you just thought that all it boiled down to was simply "hatred".

[There's a beat - it's so silent one could hear a pin drop in the safe house.]

Of course, I'd very much like to see the throats of the rich slit and bled dry. That's one of the reasons why I joined the Resistance. [His smile widens.] But if you're going to step off the wrong foot here and imply that the poor are as simple as violent animals trying to survive, then you and I will have to agree to disagree, won't we?

[The man's eyebrows raise, his placid smile unmoving, unnatural.

Even the buzz of the video feed seems to vanish into silence.]

That may be necessary, yes. [He does manage to sound disappointed, at least, but his chagrin is short-lived.] But perhaps we can agree that the rich are nothing more than well groomed livestock for the slaughter, hm?

I think calling them livestock is a compliment. I think even cows are more noble creatures than they are.

[He lets out a short laugh, giving a casual shrug.]

But either way, I agree that they should be taken to the back of the house and dealt with like the way you treat any rabid animal. Their madness for wealth isn't something you can solve with simple persuasion.

[Steinbeck's laugh is echoed, a clipped chuckle settling into misplaced warmth on the man's face.]

Surely not! Parasites don't have the capacity to listen to reason. [He adjusts his language to match the blonde's sentiment.]

Let's get to it, then. I have no doubts you're ready to carry out some of these executions yourself.

Edited 2017-03-20 01:14 (UTC)

I'm willing to do what has to be done. Hurt them, kill them, whatever.

[His lip curls up, like he's an animal already ready to sink his teeth in something.]

Nothing's too good for those bastards.

[Now that that's done, Steinbeck is ready to move to the next step - gathering his people. What he's surprised by is Handsome Jack supposedly being part of this whole affair. What, did that egocentric jerk change his ways, or something? Either way, this is going to be awkward - it's not like he's let Jack know he's been dealing with the Resistance behind his back.]

[He doesn't know this James person though. That's fine. If the Resistance wants him, the Resistance wants him. He manages to slip a note to the both of them, worded vaguely enough not to be suspicious, and waits in front of the safe house. He's no longer dressed in his typical Scarback robes - he's got on a ensemble of a dark trench coat and boots. He doesn't see the need to run around proclaiming he's a Scarback, for this kind of work.]

[When he sees the duo approach, he waves to them, his voice somehow light, despite the context of what they have to do.]

Hey, there. Nice night, huh? [He glances over at Jack.] Didn't think I'd see you all up in this business. Guess truth really is stranger than fiction.

[ Jack receives the note, but it actually takes him a long while to figure out what to do. After all, answering this "call" means going back on everything he's worked on up to this point. His climbing up the ladder, everything he's done for Angel, everything he's done for himself—If he gets caught with this? That's game over. He's not going to talk himself out of trouble on this one if the Company catches him. It's not only high risk, it's basically suicide.

...But what other choice does he have?

With the Accords abolished, everything he had been working towards had crumbled at his feet anyways. The future he had dreamed of hinged on those Accords. Granted, he never thought that the Company was going to honor all of them, and hell, they'd probably delay them, but getting rid of them all together? That was a problem. And that, Jack decides, is why he has to do this. The Company and the assholes of the Nine shouldn't be surprised at all that doing some dumbass thing like getting rid of Westerley's reason for obedience wasn't going to end in blood. So if he's going to come out on top in the end, he figures he needs to be a part of. A key part of it, at that.

When Jack approaches, Steinbeck isn't actually likely to see him at all until he's there. It's a very little known possession of Jack's since he intentionally keeps it that way, but that odd, pocketwatch-esque charm that he keeps pinned on his lapel is for much more than decoration. The air glimmers, and very suddenly, Jack appears as he turns off the cloaking that had been keeping him quite invisible. Even though his personality doesn't seem to match the idea of being stealthy, he has more than a few surprising tricks up his sleeves. Though, of course, for that subtlety, he immediately has to ruin it by opening his mouth. ]

Oh— Ohhhh, it's you?

[ Jack's getting more wound up by the second, because the fact that this is actually Steinbeck that's called him here is enough to put him on edge. After all, this is an especially risky venture for the perfect Company man, and it's why he has to offer in reply as a friendly greeting: ]

Yeah, what up sweetcheeks, if you're screwing with me I'm gonna strangle ya until your eyeballs pop out.

[ so, you know. sup. ]

[It’s not like the other notifications he's received before for the Resistance, that’s for sure. He’s wary of it, the moment he skims the notice, but it seems innocent enough, disguised as an invitation that may as well serve as his guise. He doesn’t have anything else planned then. He may as well have a look and decide if he wants to follow through after everything’s made more apparent.

Anyway, unlike Jack, this asshole just saunters up with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a six pack hanging off his hand like he’s showing up for a frat party. He certainly hears someone else before he actually ends up seeing Jack appear before his eyes, but regardless of the surprise, it seems natural for an obviously covert operation to have such characters. Though for appearances sake, he flinches back at the sudden physical appearance of someone standing next to him.

...who apparently is acquainted with the kid greeting them. Cool. That's swell. Well, since neither are acquainted with him quite yet, he may as well ruffle a few feathers before they get down to the real work.]

Business? I thought this was supposed to be a party. Even brought my own beer. [He lifts the hand with the brews slightly in gesture.] Are you guys not here for the party?

[In aside to himself:] Shit, did I take a wrong turn?

[Ohhh, and there Jack goes, making his entrance by literally appearing out of nowhere. Steinbeck has half the mind to roll his eyes, but he resists the urge, grin widening even further. It's strange to see him in this situation - it's much like seeing a fish walk around on dry land. It somehow doesn't entirely compute.]

Believe me, Jack, if I wanted to screw with you, I wouldn't even show my face like this. Don't worry your pretty little mask.

[Steinbeck lets out a huff, turning to the other man, and...uh. That's...concerning. The man has beer. He's talking about a party. Steinbeck boggles at him for a brief moment, mind racing - wait, this was the guy, right? It had to be. He delivered it to the right person. The person Hyperion told him about, he didn't mess up, did he...?]

Oh. Uh. [He scrambles a bit mentally, eyes glancing between the man's face and his offered beers.] You are James, right? James Barnes?

Yeah, and you know the best part about masks? Totally swappable, so I can totally just grab a knife, stick it under your f—

[ Jack gets on a small rant, since he's not at all happy to see Steinbeck, but thankfully, it's interrupted in its fervor by the strange demeanor of their third companion. He stops as Steinbeck probably just ignores Jack to ask his question, and he looks to Bucky too. He pauses, looks at the beer, then looks to Steinbeck. ]

Yeah, real crack team you've assembled here. Got so much confidence in ya, buddy.

[He squints at the young man, brows raising as he puts the faux confusion on real thick. His deadpan is on point tonight.

But he ends up slipping into a well-worn, friendly grin because he's too amused by the kid's confusion to take it too far. To Jack in his normal voice, while keeping his eyes on the kiddo:] But you have to admit, it still takes guts to do what he did not really knowing who’d show up.

[He looks to Jack now, chuckling with his brows raised before turning back toward the young man to actually reply.] At your service. You’re a lot younger than I imagined, but if there’s a proper job to do, I don’t expect you’d have managed to contact me.

Probably shouldn’t be saying names like that willy nilly, though. You never know who’s listening. But in the mind of fairness since you’ve already given ours [he gestures at himself and Jack] aloud, John, right?

Shut up.

[He says, lip curling upwards in a displeased grimace at Jack's remarks - the last thing he wants is to look back in front of Jack, of all people. This is his moment to shine in the Resistance, and it looks like everything is already going to hell in a handbasket before it's even started.]

[Or...is it? The man suddenly admits that he is, in fact, not some poor wayward innocent soul who came here on accident. Steinbeck feels an overwhelming sense of relief, though that doesn't stop him from glaring over at Bucky with clear annoyance.]

Don't judge a person by their age. And yeah, that's exactly why I'm going by John. And honestly, I don't care too much about Jack. [Sorry, not sorry, Jack.] Any questions from any of you two before we go in?

[ There's an immediate shine in Jack's eyes that's clearly offense at being told to shut up, but though he bristles like he has half a mind to follow through on that half-said threat, he at least stays quiet. Though it's hardly because of Steinbeck and more because of the other presence here. When Bucky looks to him, Jack looks back, and briefly, there's a tiny flicker of recognition. He doesn't know him in particular, but Jack is more astute and careful than his personality would imply, and very comfortable with the RAC. He just barely recognizes Bucky, and so he briefly wonders if he's a Killjoy, but... It doesn't particularly matter to him either way.

Hell, having a Killjoy show some kind of loyalty or preference? That's better in his book.

He crosses his arms tightly, and at Steinbeck's question, he nods to Bucky. ]

Yeah, one. Can he be in charge? Already like him better than you, kiddo. He brought beer. I bet you can't even drink beer.

[He chuckles quietly. Well, that’s something. Not even five minutes and there’s already strife. If John doesn’t care for Jack, then it’s obvious Jack doesn’t care for John either. But supposedly they’re meant to collaborate, so letting things continue with such strain won’t work for the best. Assuming they’re ever going to accomplish what they’re meant to accomplish anyway, which James is willing bet is still possible if he plays his cards right.

He runs a hand through his hair, smiling modestly as he looks to Jack.] Now, now, let’s not argue needlessly. We’re here to do a job, right? So let’s do it.

[Looking to John,] Age isn’t everything anyway. I just like knowing the people I’m working with.

So sorry, Jack. Complain all you want, but they elected me for this role. Not you. [A beat.] I've drunk several men under the table, so if you really want to go against me, I wouldn't say no.

[He winks with a mocking, sunny smile, already turning towards the entrance of the safe house. Bucky's right - they're wasting time. They need to get this show on the road, and he's not going to let Handsome Jack ruin that if he has to. Hyperion had to trust him to do this for a reason.]

Once we get inside, I need a DNA sample from the both of you, so you can have access to the bunker. Think you can manage that? [He steps towards the doors, taking a moment to enter the code and verify his identity, before the bunker opens with a soft hiss. Steinbeck gestures inside.]

Age before beauty?

Yeah, no.

[ Jack stays firmly where he is, because while he might be slightly more trusting if someone else was in charge, unfortunately, it's Steinbeck. He stays where he is, and his arms are firmly crossed as he nods to the door. ]

You go first. Not tryin' to be purposefully difficult here- Okay, on second thought, I sure as hell don't mind it, but. You're talkin' DNA samples, bunkers, and wanting me to go first? No go. More cautious than that, sweetheart.

[ And more firmly: ]

So. You first. I'll follow.

[It should be noted that James is usually in favor of cooperation, and that, as someone who is often thrust into the position of leadership quite unwillingly because there are no other takers, cooperation from your subordinates is Really Great when it comes to getting shit done. But here, in this case, he finds himself agreeing with Jack. Having their names is one thing. Having their DNA is another question entirely.

That’s not something just anyone asks for and gets without some decent explanation.]

Hate to tip the scales, John, but a DNA sample isn’t exactly something I’m quick to sign up for regardless of who’s asking. Mind explaining that one real quick?

[Assuming the guy knows anyway. From the way he’s talking, John’s just a liaison between them and the mysterious benefactors behind the bunker and might not be privy to the real goings on of whoever wants the three of them here working on God knows what.]

Who gave you the orders to weed us out?

Well, if you don't give me the DNA samples to give to the computer inside this here bunker, I'm pretty sure it'll just kill the both of you. It's not made to just let anyone inside, you know? It needs to verify your identities. I just need a drop of blood, nothing more.

[He says, blithely, as if he's describing to the both of them how they're going to take a wonderful stroll through the park when all of this is done.]

The people who put me in charge have big plans for this group. They require your skills for it. I can't give you the details for what we have to do until we're all inside.

[A shrug and a sigh, as if to say "ah, well!"]

But fine. I'll get in first. But a job like this requires a little trust, y'know?

[He laughs as he steps forward into the bunker, glancing over his shoulder with a large grin. He'll be heading straight for the computer.]

Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. Now come on. We have a lot to do.

Edited 2017-03-14 01:37 (UTC)

Yeah, whatever, princess. Great job with the threatening cliche, also: I don't give a shit.

[ Jack had listened, but his response is immediate and just as prickly. He doesn't like it any more, and the explanation he's been giving is... lacking, at best. He has a fair considering in mind to turn around and go turn Steinbeck into the Company and just pose as being a double agent, but— It's a weak case right now. If he wanted to go that route, he could totally do it later. At least, so long as he went with this.

He stays where he is, doubtful, but so long as Bucky goes, Jack will follow. He's just the least likely to trust Steinbeck, so he's insisting on going last here. ]

So, get to talking. You're crap at suspense.

[James himself is more accustomed to silent threats over verbalized aggression, so hearing John articulate it seems a bit...

Well. The guy’s young. Maybe that’s just his way. But much like Jack, he doesn’t feel the explanation is sufficient in any regard. If it’s blood to verify their identities, then it had to be acquired beforehand somehow. And even then, that isn’t something so easily acquirable. Whoever’s running the game ain’t fucking around.]

Trust doesn't come free is all I'll say. [He shrugs a shoulder and smiles placidly. John seems sure of what he’s doing regardless of the dodgy way he ducks out of really answering anything though, so if he's fine with taking the lead, then James doesn’t really have much to complain about. Even if he finds himself sharing Jack's sentiment almost beat for beat now.] But go ahead.

[They've caught a rat.]

[Things have been going well, all things considering. They've tracked down a few people who might have some juicy details regarding the True Leithian involvement with the virus, and finally, they've made their move and finally chosen one of them to hopefully make him squeal.]

[The poor man is in another room, gagged, tied to a chair with ropes around his hands and feet and a bag over his head. Steinbeck glances towards the doorway, before turning his attention back to his team.]

So, how do you want to make this work? [He smiles.] I'm sure he'll spill the beans once we play around with him a little.

[ More than the other two here, this is personal for Jack. A Scarback and a Killjoy don't exactly have the kinds of worries he does. They're the kinds of worries that he's been having a lot lately wth the Accords, but it had all stemmed from this, in a way. This had been the first shot of danger, and everything else seemed to fall after that.

It might seem like that'd have Jack on edge, energetic and ready, but on the contrary, he's quite calm. He leans against a wall with his arms crossed, but when Steinbeck asks, he looks to where they have their prisoner locked up. ]

Easy topics first. He got any family we know of?

How do you know he even gives a shit about his family?

Let’s see if he cares enough about his own life first. [He flexes his left hand, the mechanical one, before clenching it into a fist. The plates click into place as they resettle.] Most people cave with a little pain.

[True Leithian or not, people always like to pretend to be stronger and more willing to sacrifice everything than they actually are. Break down the essence of survival, and the instinct to live will usually win out over any other logic.]

If that ain’t enough, then we’ll have a better idea of what he’s willing to give up anyway.

(closed) storms make the oaks grow deeper roots

ONE ON ONE WITH HYPERION

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[always sunny in philadelphia music] THE GANG COMES TOGETHER TO MURDER PEOPLE

http://alexanderlozada.com/iasip/?IlRoZSBHYW5nIE11cmRlcnMgU29tZSBQZW9wbGUi

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interrogations: featuring dubstep

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