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

[valr]

[Everything always comes back around to trust, for Kara. She doesn't think that Kanda would betray her for any reason, whether about the information she shares, or about this new little fact, because she doubts it would be worth it. But she also wouldn't put it past him to throw her to the dogs to save his own skin, and though she can respect that, it means there are fine lines to tread.

It's enough to tell him, vaguely, that she's got nanos just like he does. She doesn't trust him enough to give him any more details, even if she thinks she's far away from the Einherjar.]

That's for the best. I can't sew for shit.

[But she can wipe down a wound, tape it shut with surgical tape, and cover the whole lot up with gauze and a bandage, which she sets to work doing.]

[valr]

[Kara isn't all that familiar with either name, but that isn't really the point, so she doesn't bother making a comment on it. Instead, she commits the names to memory and starts figuring out who'll be the best people to sell the information about Koon to.]

Never knew you had friends in high places.

[There's a hint of amusement there, although there isn't a whole lot of time to waste on jokes.]

You got a location for the killjoy?

[slotted]

[ he was going to leave soon, anyway! he'll lock the doors then. he doesn't move from his spot though, and just lets her go to the door by herself. ]

Come again.

[gyouten]

O-oh!

[Ginshu blinks, but hides his shock - it's rude to stare, after all. He's seen people wear holographic wings for costume parties, but Kara's have a weight and presence that no costume has.]

Like an angel...

[He murmurs softly under his breath. Of course she's no angel. The wings must be some sort of designer bioengineered accessory - he's heard stories of wealthy parents with more money than sense giving their children pointed ears or tails or other quirky additions, but wings are a bit extreme. They're beautiful, even if they do seem like they'd get stuck in doorways all the time. Ginshu recovers his composure quickly, and coughs to hide his embarrassment.]

...No, I suppose they won't fit at all. Still, won't they be hurt by the rain?

[lotusmesenpai]

Last time we talked, he was in Old Town, but with the warrant...

[Trailing off, he shrugs, as if to say 'who the fuck knows now'. But then he scowls and lets out a derisive snort.]

I wouldn't call us friends - just helped her un-fuck her situation a bit after they booted her out.

[Now he feels oddly responsible for leaving a lamb in the middle of the wolves den. But hey - she's got to learn to stand for herself. He's just trying to make sure she doesn't get ground into the dirt before she can even find her feet.

Stepping back, he frowns and glances down the corridor again.]

If something changes and you end up having to sell her out, at least give me a warning, yeah?

[lotusmesenpai]

[That actually startles a short laugh out of him, his head shaking in amusement at her blunt honesty.

The sting of the antiseptic isn't the worst thing he's felt for the day and so he sits there, still as can be, and modulates his breathing to remain even, steady, as she works. Thinking back to the brief but intense battle on the farm, Kanda frowns a bit.]

...True Leithians are getting bolder, aren't they? I wouldn't have thought them smart enough to even attempt a theft of this level - yet.

[valr]

[It's probably for the best that Kara doesn't hear the comment about angels, since that sort of thing tends to annoy her a bit, even if she doesn't quite remember why.

But she's busy tying a bit of cloth around her neck, that she can pull up to cover her nose and mouth once they're in the rain.]

Let's try to avoid that if possible. [She would prefer to not get wet.] But it ain't gonna kill me.

[inksplashes]

Wow, just shoot me down like that. I was just saying I prefer 'em more girl-like! Such a cold guy, Crow. I'd have given you a chance at least..

[ Though he doesn't seem all that offended, laughter still warming his voice as the ship shakes slightly and begins it ascent from the ground. The climb is steep at first, rising over Qresh and the Simms estate in what feels like slow-motion even as the individual trees and statues become mere specks of colors against an oceanic backdrop.

Crowley really is a strange Qreshi. Much too comfortable with informality. Too curious. The sooner he's out of Lavi's hair, the sooner Lavi expects he'll breathe better.

But for now, at least, he provides amusing questions. ] Yu is.. hm. Short. Great eyes. Hair like the commercials. Kind of flat-chested, but you know.

[ Waves a hand from behind his head. ]

It goes with the overall look of deadly efficiency. Also, he'll kill you if you ever repeat this or call him Yu. So you probably shouldn't.

[valr]

[Old Town is helpful enough; it gives her a direction to send people in and then they can do their own work from then on. It doesn't really matter to her whether Koon is found or not.

She still files away the little piece of information about having helped Jennifer, though she doubts she'll have much use for it.]

That ain't how I work, you don't gotta worry.

[In regards to selling Jennifer out; Kara has betrayed people before, but it's a very, very rare thing. It doesn't sit well with her.]

[valr]

[Kara's hands are as steady during this as they are in a fight, though she's more comfortable in the latter. She's no medic, never has been and never will be, but she learnt how to bandage both herself and her fellow soldiers.

Kanda is not one of her soldiers, but that doesn't matter.]

They're desperate. Bet they kept telling themselves the handover would never happen, but it's getting closer every day.

[They can't ignore it, and desperation makes people bold.]

[bittybat]

[For a moment, all of Damian's muscles tighten, and he considers jumping Kanda when the man appears to let his guard down. He's insulted Kanda brushes his threat off, and his lips twist sourly.

But he says. The water bottle surprises him, but when his hand snaps up, it catches it without effort. Not exactly what he wanted, though perhaps he needed it.] Do you always let your opponents live?

[eleutheron]

[ There's something disturbingly familiar about this scene: sitting in a noisy dive bar, drinking, listening to the details of a job. It's played out in his life here a hundred times before, but as he sips the wine Kanda's brought, he feels a more disconcerting sense of deja vu. Like he's done this, but not exactly this. He shakes it off; Kanda's talking, and it sounds important.

He furrows his eyebrows; he's sure he heard something about this situation among others in the Company, though he hasn't been fully informed yet. First there were IDs to check; rebellions to intimidate. ]

I expect I can guess where you're going with this.

[ If he recognizes anything about a mention of the Derrish, he gives no sign. His own connection to them is lost in his ruined memory. ]

ROUGHLY... the same as rl.. USD... ??

[inksplashes]

[ Objectively, Lavi can agree. Kanda seems to have been given the gift of looks at the cost of any interpersonal skills whatsoever. In fact he's pretty sure the man is some kind of fairy tale -- the angrier he gets, the prettier he looks. But thinking about your partner that way is weird so we're gonna stop this train of thought here and just offer a mild shrug and sympathetic nod.

He feels you, bro. He feels you. Now stop trying to cop a feel on Yu and everything will be golden.

Considering the price for a moment, Lavi furrows his brow again, gazing into the feed with a largely inscrutable expression. Paying higher than normal is fine, but Itsuki isn't exactly well-known for his consistency, and a higher premium comes with the expectation of higher validity. ]

That's fine, then, but if it turns out to be a lie, I'm telling Yu you asked me to take pictures of him in the shower in exchange.

[ Smilesmile. ]

Agreed?

[eusford]

Well I'll inform you now that I'm not interested.

[ Which isn't in a lie, in a sense. Crowley has no interest in any sort of relationship beyond acquaintances, so only death awaits.

what am i writing ]

He'll kill me? [ He quirks a brow. ] Even if I'm repeating everything you said?

ii

[eusford]

[ Not one to sleep at all thanks to this "illness" of his Crowley can hardly stay in his room for long periods of time. It becomes far too boring like his days on Qresh, and considering he left with desire of adventure makes him that much more restless.

So he goes around the areas has permission to roam through (he's being a good boy!!!) and somehow manages to find the training room. Wowza.

Short. Great eyes. Hair like the commercials. Kind of flat-chested, but you know. ]

Ah, you must be Yu-chan!

[ death comes ]

[lotusmesenpai]

[Normally the quiet hours of the night mean he could train while Lavi slept. But no Lavi and a ship full of annoying bastards means he had to wait even longer to do so...

Except, it seems, he hadn't waited late enough.

He can hear the faint reverberation of steps on steel flooring, hear them stop at the door, but then that name. Spoken so carelessly, and by someone he's barely been introduced to.

And a Qreshi, no less.

His reaction is instantaneous - hand tightening around the wooden sword in hand, as he shifts into a half-spin, draws his hand back, and puts a good bit of force behind the sweeping strike towards the interloper's face. Muscles strain as he pulls the blow, sights down the line of the blade, his gaze icy and hard with a preternaturally calm hate.]

Say that name again, and I'll cut your fucking head off.

[inksplashes]

I'll be sure to keep that in mind.

[ He won't. Lavi has far more pressing matters to consider, but he's sure to sound almost sincere when he adds that rejoinder.

(idk ashe what's going with you are you ok do you need a hug) ]

For sure. Probably doubly so because it's me. Let's just say I'm the PR guy in this partnership.

[ And that's where the info-session is going to end, Lavi nodding towards the front view of the ship to draw Crowley's attention away from the topic at hand and to the view he presumes has drawn the Qreshi into the cockpit--the atmospheric burn as they begin to enter the planet's protective layers.

Neon magenta, orange, and green burn at the edges of the windows as the deep midnight of space peeks out from the top of the paler blue of the day sky. For Lavi, it's a common enough occurrence to ignore, if outright disregard in favor of a nap (which he'd be doing now, thanks Crowley), but he imagines someone never off planet might enjoy it. Pretty colors. ]

After this it gets pretty boring. Lasts for a few minutes though. Space is a lot further away than it looks.

[ Lavi uses Evade! ]

denied

[inksplashes]

[ Privileged girl.

It was hard for her, he's sure--trying and difficult, to walk in the shadow of constant disapproval, but for all that her reaction might normally pull at the heartstrings of others, it just makes him think.. how fortunate she really has been to this point.

How sheltered she truly is.

So though he feels that slight pang of concern, he ignores it. Remains unfazed. Untouched. Stubbornly pushing that human inclination to empathize aside, his smile grows a little colder for a moment, head bowing.

Laying a hand gently at her shoulder, Lavi speaks in a whisper as if to keep their words a hallowed secret. ]

There isn't anyone who is without their share of shame, Princess.

[ Turning from her to the door, he lets his hand fall away, voice slightly harder. ]

Wear yours with pride for having endured. Many do not.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Grunting in acknowledgement, he steps further back and then cuts his gaze back to Kara. He watches her a long moment, and then, surprisingly, offers a faint half-smile.]

That's one of the reasons I like working with you, Kara.

[A beat, then a gruff: ] ...Thanks.

[He's lingered long enough and still has things to get done. He has her word and, while he still leaves room to be disappointed, it's still... something he thinks he can bank on at face value, at the very least.]

[refactor]

I never do.

[ He responds to her first comment there smoothly, even though it may not necessarily have needed a response. Jack just felt the need to offer it, because even if he's a Company man, he's not exactly the normal kind to be in a management position. But then again, you can never really trust anyone in the Company, at least so far as he's concerned. People comfortable in their positions especially. But the Company is hardly why he's here, so there's no more comment given to that. Instead, he nods and steps forward to fall in line behind her. ]

Hey, no worries, I know where I need to be in a fire fight, so you're good. I'll watch your back too, buuuut, kinda gonna guess you're gonna say you don't need it. I'll do it anyways. [ He adds wryly: ] You're welcome.

[valr]

[There's a potential for a quick joke there, but she decides not to bother with it when they've both got more important things to do, so she simply gives Kanda a little mock salute, one finger tapped against her temple.]

Good luck.

[eusford]

[ Lavi had already provided him with a warning, but even without it the sudden, threatening movement would still receive the same response: Crowley completely unfazed and eyeing the end of the wooden sword before glancing back up, lips curled into a pleasant smile.

His gaze is warm, the complete opposite of the short individual whose eyes could burn through someone with thin skin. ]

That's right, Lavi did say you would get pissed if I called you that... so why'd you stop? That's too predictable.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Lavi said?

So his partner had talked to this... Qreshi... about him.

That is more than enough to feed life to the rage already seething beneath his skin at having to allow this entitled prince onto his ship in the first place.]

Fuck off, bastard.

[If anything, his expression hardens even further, right before he draws back and swings in hard towards the man's head.

This time, as requested by his royal highness, he's not going to pull the punch in the slightest.]

[lotusmesenpai]

Human greed - on both sides.

[Snorting, he sneers slightly, his gaze turning to consider the sword hanging on his wall, wincing slightly at the burn of antiseptic in an open wound.]

They've had, what? Over a century to accept it. And more than enough land. It's stupid.

[All of it, really. But then, no one ever claimed anything about the Quad made sense. Class stratification on a planetary scale never did, so far as he's seen.]

[lotusmesenpai]

[Never judge a book by it's cover - he doesn't trust you enough to let his guard down entirely.]

Pointless.

[Shaking his head at the question, he flicks open the lid and gulps down a quick sip of water before staring down impassively.]

Right now, we're team members. So right now it'd be like shooting myself in the foot by wearing your endurance down before what will likely be a lethal fight. Assess the situation before you and prepare for that instead, idiot.