jason todd. | red hood. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tirejacked) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-02-23 01:11 am
tirejacked) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-02-23 01:11 am
Entry tags:
[closed.] all the right friends in all the right places
Who: Lavi & Jason
Where: space!!!!! some shady ass weapons dealing cruiser outside the quad
When: W6D1? ish. when are evals, why did ari let me post this
Summary: Lavi's LV4 RAC eval. masterful attempts at infiltration, maybe. taking out turncoats for fun and profit, definitely.
Restrictions/Warnings: lying, sarcasm, violence. eventual killing of npcs.
[It's something of a flight out to the Market, a big old cruiser that operates as a literal mobile black market for anyone looking to up their firepower, circling the fringes of the Quad and other nearby systems. A real neutral-ground melting pot where dirtbags of all sorts can come and turn a profit. They've got plenty of reason to believe that their target will be present—he was last dispatched to go infiltrate a vary particular Leithan dealer who's been making waves about moving cargo out here.
His name is Guy Kovar. RAC agent gone deep undercover into the thick of the arms dealing biz and then gone suspiciously off grid not long after. And while there are a number of reasons something like that can happen, the smart money is on the simplest one. (Either he made a stupid mistake and got himself killed, or he just liked the business a little too much and decided to stick around. Since they've had a sighting in the past few days, option numero uno looks like a wash. Which is where the warrant comes in.)
As of now, Jason's got his feet propped up on the edge of his ship's console while they finish their approach. Despite the recent rukus of the riots, he's made it through the past few weeks—apparently—largely unscathed. But he's a little quieter than usual during the flight, as if distracted. The recent upheavel in the quad is more than enough to keep anyone occupied—and his sleep these days tends toward brief and restless, and the vivid dreams leftover from the week of the epidemic seem to stick around too long after the fact. Echoing back with sneaking scraps of nagging nonsense like an earworm when his attention wanders, only to vanish as soon as he tries to chase it down. Like while he's rapping his fingers restlessly against the arm of his chair and watching the cruiser they're headed for slowly approach.
(—and Karanov's got problems. He's part of the Ivgene clan. They've got three police task forces and Interpol crawling all over them. Hell, MI5 has opened a file on them. No arrests, but they are really screwing up their business. Makes me wonder why they need a bomber—)
The ship chirps a warning as it starts docking procedures so they can get boots on the selling floor, and he shakes his head like it'll rattle his focus back and his headache away and swings his feet down from the console onto the deck so he can get his hands back on the controls. Since it's about time to get this show on the road, he calls over a shoulder at Lavi—]
T minus five to showtime. Why don't you run me through this again, boss.
["Boss" is, of course, both largely and loudly ironic. If true on a technicality or two—Lavi's supposed to be running point on this one. Jason's a guy who largely prefers working alone, picking up partners willy nilly isn't much his style. But he's going along with the motions of the evals to keep himself in the RAC's good graces, for the time being. Given the fraught political climate, covering his bases to keep them off his back can't hurt.
That it gets him an excuse to have a look around the dirty dealings out here in the process is just convenience.
So: what's your plan, bud.]
Where: space!!!!! some shady ass weapons dealing cruiser outside the quad
When: W6D1? ish. when are evals, why did ari let me post this
Summary: Lavi's LV4 RAC eval. masterful attempts at infiltration, maybe. taking out turncoats for fun and profit, definitely.
Restrictions/Warnings: lying, sarcasm, violence. eventual killing of npcs.
[It's something of a flight out to the Market, a big old cruiser that operates as a literal mobile black market for anyone looking to up their firepower, circling the fringes of the Quad and other nearby systems. A real neutral-ground melting pot where dirtbags of all sorts can come and turn a profit. They've got plenty of reason to believe that their target will be present—he was last dispatched to go infiltrate a vary particular Leithan dealer who's been making waves about moving cargo out here.
His name is Guy Kovar. RAC agent gone deep undercover into the thick of the arms dealing biz and then gone suspiciously off grid not long after. And while there are a number of reasons something like that can happen, the smart money is on the simplest one. (Either he made a stupid mistake and got himself killed, or he just liked the business a little too much and decided to stick around. Since they've had a sighting in the past few days, option numero uno looks like a wash. Which is where the warrant comes in.)
As of now, Jason's got his feet propped up on the edge of his ship's console while they finish their approach. Despite the recent rukus of the riots, he's made it through the past few weeks—apparently—largely unscathed. But he's a little quieter than usual during the flight, as if distracted. The recent upheavel in the quad is more than enough to keep anyone occupied—and his sleep these days tends toward brief and restless, and the vivid dreams leftover from the week of the epidemic seem to stick around too long after the fact. Echoing back with sneaking scraps of nagging nonsense like an earworm when his attention wanders, only to vanish as soon as he tries to chase it down. Like while he's rapping his fingers restlessly against the arm of his chair and watching the cruiser they're headed for slowly approach.
(—and Karanov's got problems. He's part of the Ivgene clan. They've got three police task forces and Interpol crawling all over them. Hell, MI5 has opened a file on them. No arrests, but they are really screwing up their business. Makes me wonder why they need a bomber—)
The ship chirps a warning as it starts docking procedures so they can get boots on the selling floor, and he shakes his head like it'll rattle his focus back and his headache away and swings his feet down from the console onto the deck so he can get his hands back on the controls. Since it's about time to get this show on the road, he calls over a shoulder at Lavi—]
T minus five to showtime. Why don't you run me through this again, boss.
["Boss" is, of course, both largely and loudly ironic. If true on a technicality or two—Lavi's supposed to be running point on this one. Jason's a guy who largely prefers working alone, picking up partners willy nilly isn't much his style. But he's going along with the motions of the evals to keep himself in the RAC's good graces, for the time being. Given the fraught political climate, covering his bases to keep them off his back can't hurt.
That it gets him an excuse to have a look around the dirty dealings out here in the process is just convenience.
So: what's your plan, bud.]