Chapter 1

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 1, Day 1 - Week 2, Day 1
Summary: Game launch 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.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Leith
True Leithians
Westies
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine

Hushed whispers and conversations behind sealed doors spread throughout Qresh, carrying with them rumor of the Lady Derrish's illness. Poisoned, some say, as they speak their quiet murmurs and the news travels like wildfire. It lights up the nobility with a new cause - there is no heir to the Derrish name. At least, none that is known. A surrogate mother carries the only Derrish child to be related by blood. She dwells on Leith, though her location is obscured to everyone who seeks her - both those who wish to help and those who would do harm. Some wish to procure the heir - whether following the warrant for his retrieval or hoping to gain favor with the Nine by gift or by blackmail. Some wish the heir dead, seeking to cause a power vacuum that could lead to a bloody war as families of the Nine scramble to gobble up Derrish land. All have backring that can be traced back to the nobility, each family pursuing their own agenda. 'False' heirs, those who claim to be related, or bastard children, either rise up in hopes of fortune or hide in fear of those who would stamp out the family name for good. On Leith there is said to be a hotel staffed by the most beautiful woman, run by a man who no one has ever seen. Only those with money or influence may stay the night at Blessed Branches, though anyone seeking fine wine and good company may occupy its lounge. Many come hoping to spend time with the hostesses, though the girls aren't known for taking bribes or slipping away for a 'good time'. It is here, in one of the premium guestrooms, that the surrogate heir and his mother are housed. The other women are unaware of her status - simply taking care of her as one of their own - and how much the owner knows is as difficult to pin down as he is. Any display of violence is sure to be noticed, as Company officials and RAC agents alike guard the building for significant pay. Getting in may be simple for some, but getting out is far more difficult. The mother's room is on the 10th story, with its few windows locked and curtains closed. As she approaches her delivery date, help comes and goes with frequency, but on no specific schedule. Criminals and RAC agents alike chatter in the streets of Westerley and Leith over just who, and where, this woman could be. Many assume she lodges with the surrogate clusters hidden on Westerley - heavily guarded by men and treacherous landscape alike. Others seek beyond the Quad, and some assume she's already dead. No matter the cause, no matter its difficulty, the rush to find the woman and unborn baby only grows. Some may consult information brokers, some may attempt to find their way into the genetic databases, some may rely on word of mouth, and some may lay in wait for others to do the sleuthing work before closing in on their target.

The Company

"We need to send a message," every Company employee receives the same directive, "Loud and clear." Rules are rules, and there is no room for disobedience - neither within nor outside of the Company. The citizens of Westerley have become more unruly than usual, taking out their frustrations with their lot in life on the Company and on society. Or so the directive says. It is for the good of the Company, and for those loyal citizens who keep their heads down and do their duty, to expunge the corrosive minds from society and extinguish the flames of a foolish rebellion. From prisoner guards to those selected to string criminals up for execution, to those who stand watch over the sizzling corpses (or soon to be corpses) belonging to symbols of the rebellion left out in the rain to die, to those in charge of door-to-door or man-to-man ID checks, every bit of available manpower in the Company is being used to secure the city. Some may begrudge their work, while others delight in the lax restriction on violence towards citizens. All should keep their heads down, lest they become yet another target for the efforts to 'increase security' in the city. A heatwave that brings with it Black Rain makes the job difficult and treacherous - stay out too long and you could get caught in a storm. Just the same as the local Westies, all of whom are more or less stranded in their homes - or the bars they passed out in the night before - everyone is scrimping by with whatever provisions remain. Only those Company officials lucky enough to live on Company property, a compound of barracks that provides middling levels of comfort, don't worry for their necessities. Travel through the tunnels may afford the few who know of their existence more mobility - the ability to help others, to stockpile what they need, or to make an impressive capture - but comes with its own dangers. From the culture that lives there to the increased presence of resistance groups making their safe-houses in the vast, winding network, some may decide that the potential dangers aren't worth the trip, and others may wish they had.

Leith

Every season brings a new batch of harvest workers—old, young, adventurous, desperate. But it doesn’t matter whether a worker has tended to the same hokk farm for ten years: when the limits of a work visa are reached, they must return to their planet of origin or face severe penalties. Sometimes, though, people slip through the cracks. Sometimes people change their genetic records altogether to make sure it happens. Whether it’s an individual who refuses to return to the cage of Westerley or a merchant willing to look the other way for off-the-books labor, visa law enforcement is critical to the Quad. Targets identified as “high risk”—those individuals who have a profile of criminal behavior or have given the Company reason to take a second look at their credentials in the past—are being routinely rounded up to ensure their genetic identities and visa information still coincide. Killjoys and Company enforcers are being deployed in equal measure to address this potential security concern in the days leading up to “harvest week”, the seasonal break where workers return home and a new batch of hopefuls arrives on Leith. For some, this can be a minor inconvenience, taking DNA samples and conversing with understandably irritable workers—for others, this could be a potentially fatal encounter and lead into Leith’s darker underbelly. For whatever reason a target has chosen to stay or change their identity, they have done so at great and calculated risk. They will fight without discrimination to stay hidden and maintain their secret--as, at times, will their employers. Maybe they've decided to pursue a more lucrative line of work, using Leith's fertile soils to grow illicit substances, or perhaps they've simply decided that their fate should be in their own hands, and not that of a visa agency. Either way, they won't go quietly.

True Leithians

Gunfire is lost under the sound of the rain. The pitter-patter of acidic water beats in tandem to Company rifles and shouts, the flash of grenades like fireflies in the distance. The Family Registry Bureau, well-guarded and set on the outskirts of Old Town, shakes and shudders with each successive boom, debris falling as the battle escalates. “For Leith!” A single voice rises above the commotion and for a moment, the night is still, the incessant rain seeming to take heed, as if the clouds themselves have paused to see what will unfold. The building collapses. Fire billows out in violent plumes, snaking through the twisted metal and broken glass. Survivors on both sides disperse like scattered marbles. By morning, the dead have been dissolved to bone by the rain, and Company enforcers are out to ensure that scavengers don’t take their pick of the remaining materials. Officials are tight-lipped about what, if anything, was taken during the attack, but word on the street spreads fast—there’s a man hunt and hundreds of genetic identities are up for grabs. Criminal activity in Eulogy sees an all-time spike as bartered goods come in, though not everyone in Eulogy or the criminal world takes kindly to stealing from their own. Nor do they care for the sudden attention drawn to their illicit little den, making it a hot bed of Killjoy and undercover Company activity. But Eulogy isn't the only place to see unwelcome guests. On and off Westerley, news of the attack spreads, and agents of each organization race to come out on top. Whether it’s a Killjoy tasked with locating the perpetrators, a True Leithian conspirator on the run, a Westie out for revenge and securing their future in the Seventh Generation accord, or a Company Enforcer on orders of execution off planet—everyone has someone’s number, and time is quickly running out for each of them.

Westies

The heat hangs over Westerley like a blanket laid down over a fever, suffocating and addling. Sign posts flicker erratically between Company propaganda and storm advisory warnings. Old Town’s streets, normally buzzing and bursting with life, are like a ghost town. The few stragglers that remain move like worms, slowly and carefully, their bodies bowed over the carts they push as if the sun has melted away their will to walk. In the square of the town, a group of well-clad Company men and women hurriedly work, bolting modern day stocks into the concrete. Prisoners, red jumpsuits and heads covered in black shrouds, are roughly shuffled between the soldiers as they’re chained and bound to the stakes. Only once they’re secured are they allowed to see the light of day—for the first and last time in years. The squadron commander, a stalwart woman, takes up the intercom on her truck, her voice booming through each sign post in Old Town when she speaks. “Westerlens, for high treason and threats to the public good, these prisoners are hereby brought to this place of execution where they shall be exposed to the elements until dead. By order of the Company, serving the Quad.” Seconds later, the sirens start. The soldiers finish their work with haste and pile into their vehicle. The sky, moments before overbearingly bright, disappears under inky shadow, bruised green and red as violent clouds spread out like reaching fingers. The storm rolls in without mercy or pause, enveloping the light of the day by visible inches. Acidic rainfall begins to pelt down, not lightly, not drifting, but in a hard, unrelenting stream. Anyone caught within it has but hours to survive, and moments to escape disfiguring injury. The storms will rage for three days with few breaks in between. But the environment is hardly the only, or even the worst, thing Westies have to worry about.

Resistance

The rebellion suffered a crushing blow. Of course, rebellions in Old Town are used to that--but with key leaders gone, Resistance members are scattered like grains of sand across glass, rolling further and further apart. Some individuals seek to take the power vacuum as their own chance at power, but they're met with staunch rebuttal, splitting this already fragile organization into smaller and smaller cells. Under the cover of the acidic storms, the remaining members of the Resistance take to the undercity, whispering into the ears of the discontent and angry. Follow the branch that's extended to you, they say, and you'll find a new place to grow roots. And so those roots do grow, down walls, on pieces of passed paper, across the hands of those who harbor dissent. It's a symbol, a living, growing map, of a new haven. Innocuous to those who don't know what it means, symbolic and religious, but to those who seek out its meaning? They'll delve to the very deepest parts of the undercity, a place manned only by those wearing the yellow and gold of the Scarbacks. There, a secure military bunker is hidden beneath the layers of Old Town, lost to all but the original blueprints of the city. Its concrete walls hold the barest bones of supplies, but there's potential, a skeleton upon which the rebellion can build its strength and muster the will to stand again. Finding the bunker, though arduous, isn't the hardest part. Getting in? That will take connections, charisma. Trust. The Resistance is in awful short supply of that last right about now.

The RAC

The RAC, as ever, maintains its neutrality and follows its singular mandate: the warrant is all. But that isn't to say that there can't be a little fun in the process--between serving out warrants issued on behalf of the other factions and singular individuals, the top teams within the Quad will receive a special directive. Black Warrant For all teams, whether temporarily formed for the sake of pursuit or permanently aligned, this presents a unique opportunity to compete against their fellow RAC agents. All manner of subterfuge is encouraged, although directly attacking your fellow Killjoys will receive at least one bad review on social networking apps. But while killing your competition isn't allowed, making their life impossibly difficult and taking the prize for yourself? That's the very definition of the game. This is a competitive warrant, open to all Killjoy teams with a level 4 agent or higher. Your task is simple in description but far from it in nature: find and secure an heir for Land Derrish before your opponents. The catch (there's always a catch, isn't there?) -- you'll be fighting off more than your compatriot Killjoys. Criminals and mercenaries will be gunning for the same targets, and there's a mountain of bureaucracy standing in your way to figuring out who is a legitimate heir, if one exists at all. Your time is short* and your competition is fierce. May the best team win. *Week 1, Day 2 - Week 1, Day 5

Comments

[nightchild]

Ain't that the truth.

[It's a throwaway comment, but Itsuki's relief is clear. As much as he was angry before, now he's anxious to know if she's going to be okay. And hearing that it might have just been a second or two before he stumbled upon them helps ease some of his nerves. Now that he doesn't have to internally sweat anymore, he sighs.]

[And then Scott goes into Nurse Scott mode and Itsuki starts sweating internally again.]

Hey, I'm fine. You've got your hands full, anyway. [He very surreptitiously wipes at the corner of his mouth, deciding that as long as Scott isn't looking he might as well do some SPEEDY FIRST-AID of his own. Then he grimaces because he's got blood on his sleeve, nice.] Really. For a situation as rough as that, I got out of it pretty easily. Just some joy to replace his so-called missing wallet, and he let us go right away.

[why does this sound like a panicky stream of excuses, IT DOESN'T!!]

1/2 it started from the bottom and now we're still at the bottom

[nightchild]

[STOP THOSE QUESTION MARKS SHOULD BE ITSUKI'S!! anyway he's all about to interject with a 'Whaddya mean they don't??? u guys have ur own informants??? that's why I can't charge you guys too much or you'll whine about it']







[And then, he finally registers the question.]

[nightchild]

[








ah.]

Ah.

[ah]

[this is the face of a man who's rapidly losing all belief in humanity, at least the part of humanity that apparently likes assuming that he's a hooker. anyway, with the measured tone of a man who's losing that belief but will still fight for patience,]

You think I'm a hooker.

[mmmmmmmmmmmm now he's running their entire conversation through his mind and he wants to scream, stop even if he was a hooker HE WOULDN'T WANT TO BANG KEITH!!!!]

You weren't coming off as all that bright while I was talking to you, but... Way to prove me right. [it sounded like he wanted to bang keith??? AHHHHHHHHH] That means I'm not, by the way.

[impulsors]

[ Congratulations! You have leveled up Keith's BRISTLE move! BRISTLE is now Lv. 3! ]

It's not my fault you sound like one. And not even a very good one. Who starts complaining about not getting any girls on the street?

[nightchild]

[can he return keith to prof oak]

Uh, people who like girls?!

[Itsuki believes he's still being patient. he's not, but let him dream. anyway, he points at Keith!! aggressively!!]

Look, you. I'm an informant. You know, info broker? I sell information. And I've had a really long day of selling info to dudes like you and to no one cute, so I think I'm allowed to complain a little!

[BREATHES, he's patient. he's a patient guy.]

Geez, haven't you ever done business with an info broker before? Are you totally new at this or something?

[nightchild]

[MIGHT AS WELL since does Kara really want to sit through Itsuki going on and on about how all girls are beautiful, YOUNG AND OLD --]

Sure thing.

[The good thing about having a side occupation means having the joy to spend on the really important things, like buying Kara a drink. She could take it on the road, since Kara's spot-on about the part where Itsuki likes to look dumb (he likes looking flirtatious, but comes off as dumb), but he understands that this isn't a situation to while away with drinks.]

[He waves Devin over and puts in his order (whiskey for kara, and some kind of watered down scotch for himself) and while they're waiting]

Speaking of the storm, how you've been holding up with all this weather? I hope it's better than how our true believer pals have been dealing.

[impulsors]

I've been around for long enough.

[ Long enough, at least, to know the basics: the boundaries of excessive force, how to hold and fire a gun, and never offend someone you want to sell you the right intel. ]

But I try to look for people who know what they're doing.

[ Oops. ]

westerley, ii.

[snuggies]

[ The days tend to be trying in Old Town--some days mean not enough food, some days mean fights and violence, and some days are just bleak, filled with suffocating loneliness from living in a world where people are bred to prioritize themselves above all else. Scott's gotten pretty good at handling these days, even though the rains and prisoner executions had grated his nerves. He doesn't snap when he sees the dogs out for blood, bodily grabbing citizens and demanding ID. He just clenches his jay, and anticipates the moment that he's pulled over--

There it is. ]

Just...

[ But his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of Fenris, an alien of he'd ever seen one. His nostrils flare on his instinct, trying to sniff out the other man and get a read on what exactly he's dealing with. ]

[snuggies]

[ He'd been attracted to the scent of familiarity when surrounded by so much that's foreign, though he hadn't pinpointed it as Koon from the beginning. As unfriendly as the other man's voice is, it soothes Scott's fraying nerves. There's something in him that's angry and unsettled in this new territory, something beyond discomfort, though Scott has no idea what it is.

There's something wrong with him. ]

Sorry. [ He doesn't actually know Koon well enough to be snippy with him--their strictly professional interactions at the clinic haven't yet paved the way for friendship.

The gaze that meets Koon is unfocused. ]

Did I hurt you?

[lotusmesenpai]

Cockiness will get you killed just as quick.

[Kanda flashes a fierce grin at that, despite the sting of a well placed blow and then immediately launches into a swift flurry of jabs aimed towards the kid's chest - little more than a firm distraction before he shifts into a hard sweep towards the boy's ankles and shins.

As he does so, he snorts, his expression more somber once again.]

Live through a few more level fours and I might bother remembering your name, short-stack. Until then, I'm just waiting on you to turn into blaster fodder.

[Might seem harsh, but when you've entered your first combat zone around Damian's age it's hard not to come out of it with a low faith in the durability of humans.]

[snuggies]

Why? [ Scott furrows his brows, mystified.

He's actually a little more conflicted than he looks. The fact is that he wants those papers back, and he doesn't want to push Kara until she retracts her offer. But he can't just send her in alone. ]

I can help. I know getting caught scaling a wall doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but I swear I can be useful.

[ He thinks for a moment before quickly adding: ] I mean, I'm going in there anyway.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Why had it bothered him, really?

It's not like he actually disagrees with Lavi's reasoning, or even the necessity to make her aware of just how situations can change in a place like this.

And, truth be told, if the warrant did change, it is still entirely possible that they'd be right back at her door despite giving her the option now to decide which way she wanted to jump.

...honestly, he can't say why it rankled, but he's not invested enough to care.

Instead, he lets out an irritated growl and turns back away, paces over to the window to scan the streets below.]

Whatever.

[Watching those meandering below, he does actually see a familiar face and it starts the gears turning in a different direction instead.]

Got anyone in mind to get to play babysitter, or is that one on me as well?

[lotusmesenpai]

['Fuck off and die' would have probably been the response. So it's probably good Lancer hadn't bothered with the apology.

Kanda would much prefer prompt, because he's not stupid enough to believe in reliable with anyone - even if (or maybe especially if) he's worked with them before. And now that everyone's here, he's just going to scowl at the free way the other helps himself to Kanda's caff because sorry Lancer...

No one's ever really taught him how to play well with others, though some have tried.

Instead, he snorts and shoots his temporary partner a smirk, raises a brow at the man.]

That's what you get for taking the shit jobs. You want more joy and less Westies, stick to the higher warrants.

[snuggies]

[ It's a good thing Takasugi was bored by the apology, because Scott is seriously considering taking it back. His eyes go wide when Takasugi blocks the only escape, eyes flickering over the other man and trying to figure out what his endgame is, and if he can spot any telltale signs of an Enforcer. ]

Are you crazy?! I don't have a--

[ His point becomes abundantly obvious when the Enforcers round the corner with their weapons--still a distance away, but their bullets bridge the gap easily. There's another explosion of sound, a bullet drives sharply into Scott's back, toward the side and under his ribs, making him yell and stumble forward.

His eyes glow gold when he faces Takasugi next. ]

Move.

[snuggies]

Well-- [ Keith's got a point there, and Scott stands there for a moment with his mouth open for a second before his shoulders draw up helplessly. ] Look, I don't know. I thought I could convince them. I didn't feel like getting in a fight with all of that.

[ He gestures out toward the intimidating looking security force and their buddies.

Then, he peers at Keith. ]

What's your plan to get in?

[lotusmesenpai]

[Kanda makes a faintly disgusted sound at the pipe before the bartender arrives with two half-filled glasses. One Kanda picks up, takes a slow, careful sip before he sets it back down.

It's not surprising to him that the man doesn't remember, not really, given how long ago it had been.

For Kanda, it had been a night burned into his memories and nightmares, but for this one-eyed stranger that still used bandages instead of eyepatches like a certain partner?

Probably a night long forgotten, and likely better that way.

Despite that, however, he props his cheek against his fist, a faint scowl lingering in place as he pushes the drink closer.]

Nothing. I just don't like debts, so take the fucking drink and I'm good.

[lotusmesenpai]

[She's either hyper aware of her surroundings, or paranoid enough to keep her back to a wall in a den of disreputable assholes. Either way, it's just common sense to be on guard so far as Kanda's concerned so there's no real reason to fault her or call her on her roundabout means of leading him through the place.

Keeping at a distance, keeping her barely within the edge of his vision as she goes, it's the best way he can accommodate her demand to not be associated with a killjoy until she ends their glacial game of chase.

Even then, he gives it a few moments before following her down the alley, to give himself time to ensure they weren't actually followed before he cuts down the darkened path.

Once he does catch up to her, he gives the cigarette a glare before stepping back to lean against the broken wall opposite, checks to ensure there wasn't anyone to listen from the other side before he finally rests his palms on his holstered weapons.]

...What have you heard about the Land Derrish heirs, Kara? Or about Seyah Derrish, for that matter.

SDJLFSD THANK U and omg it's fine... taka has better things to do, like be a disney villain

[nightchild]

[Itsuki runs a hand through his hair, muttering a brief but heartfelt thanks because as much as they aren't buddying up on the weekends or anything, he can appreciate the gesture.]

You know me. If it's something you want to know, then I'll make it interesting. [He might not be the best and most informative broker around, but he's delivered enough for a few people to rely on him. And when it came to Takasugi... Well, Itsuki's sure the guy wouldn't waste his time with someone he didn't think could deliver.]

I've heard things about the true leithians running around Old Town and of course, stuff on the surrogate. Which do you want to know?

[slotted]

[ he bites his lip when he hears the query, a bit concerned for the kid's wellbeing because he knows all takasugi wants is carnage, but at the same time, he gets paid... even though the only people leo truly cares about are the westerely, he still wouldn't want anybody to die. even if they are scum.

he hesitates for a moment, eyes moving from side to side as if to find a means of a diversion or to calm him down. but when he opens his mouth, he sounds a bit more relaxed. ]

Depends on your budget, but there is one hotel that might suit your needs.

[lotusmesenpai]

Moron.

[Urge to knock certain info brats upside the head diverted, Kanda follows into the room, nose wrinkling at the scent of musky humans and cheap perfume.

Rather than take the seat opposite Itsuki, Kanda crosses to the window, checks the street outside, and then leans against the marginally not filthy wall there, arms crosses as he considers his next words carefully.

This could, potentially, cause him some serious problems later, but the RAC doesn't govern how dirty killjoys play with each other during black warrants and the info sitting on his tongue isn't, technically, classified so...

Letting out a slow breath, Kanda offered a faintly amused smirk as he finally speaks.]

I've got information to sell you, for a change. If you're interested.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Kanda follows him, already mildly regretting doing so, but the sight that greets him when he enters the lounge area has his eyes widening fractionally, feet slowing as he assess the room.

All these fucking losers sleeping like babies, and he hasn't managed more than two or three hours a night for well over a month.

Belatedly, he follows the informant, placing a palm flat on the low counter before neatly vaulting over it and landing on quiet feet. A few steps have him stepping into the room, brows knitting into a slight scowl at the herbal air within.]

...I'd heard rumors, but-- [cutting himself off, he takes a half step towards the other, eyes narrowing intently as his voice drops lower, just shy of threatening.] I hadn't been sure. Just what do you sell them to knock them out? Because they don't look like Bliss or Jakk addicts, broker.

[brickinthewall]

I thought I had a shit life.

[Ah, there it is. Card being a pesky little bitch. She slides the card on the bar.]

I might do you a favor and get you some real music. That's depressing me.

[impulsors]

[ At once his shoulders draw up; his fingers flex as his brows snap -- but not with any promise of violence. ]

I'm not the one who just got marked and banned for life.

[slotted]

[ leo isn't one to curse, especially while on the job, but this time, he thinks it's okay. ]

You don't know what a shit life is.

[ it's more of a joke than anything else, because while leo's had a tough life being an elster and all, it's not something he wishes to talk about. ]

And... this is for?

[bittybat]

[Retaliation was something Damian expected; however, he hadn't quite been aware to what degree. Kanda's training was just that, focused, easy, no intense strength or passion behind it. He realizes he's tipped the pot, but feels more satisfied for it.

Kanda is taking him more seriously.

He's forced to defend, block the jabs by using a hand to twirl the end of the stave behind him, deflecting in a circular motion. It leaves him open. To land steady, he has to abandon the stave altogether. It clatters on the ground when he trips, but he now has his hands free to flip, make a solid landing low, almost on his knees.] My name is Damian Wayne.

Start remembering it now because you'll need to know it when I'm level six. [Taking a page out of Kanda's book, he slips his fingers under the stave and tosses it up and over at Kanda from one end. A distraction.

Rather than jumping up and down at Kanda, he goes low first: baseline slides, trying to hook his foot around Kanda's ankle to trip.]