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

[inksplashes]

[ He doesn't get there on time, precisely, but that can't really be helped. One arm bandaged and the stench of the undercity and blood clinging to his clothes, Lavi's day has been busy, and scampering back to Old Town's surface is no easy feat.

But as much as he liked to tease and taunt Kanda, he knew that tone of voice and that look he'd gotten, despite the darkness of the tunnels, so he hadn't wasted time once they'd ended their video call.

There was something going on about this warrant that bothered Yu on a level bordering personal.

So when he arrives at the bar, he offers an immediate look of apology when he spots his partner from across the room, mouthing over the words "sorry" even as he slips between drunk patrons. Careful to keep his still freshly wrapped arm out of sight, he beams cheerily, slinking up beside the shorter man. ]

Lavi on demand, as promised!

Bartender, drinks for my friend and me? Something really, really strong.

im screaming

[nightchild]

[There is nothing about Itsuki that most definitely says informant and not sex worker, so surely, this is also Itsuki’s fault for being so vaguely skeevy.]

[Then again, it’s been a while since he’s??? been??? Assumed to be one?? He’s climbed the ladder. He’s worked his way up! Most people who come on by actually know who he is! No longer are there awkward moments of men and women sidling on by and winking at him while asking his rates just as there’s no longer awkward moments of Itsuki giving them said rates and then realizing as they run their hands down his body that it’s sex that they want. Which is fine, honestly, Itsuki respects every Westerley occupation (and he’s done his fair share boosting that particular industry), but like??? HE THOUGHT HE WAS PAST THIS!!]

[Is what he’d think if he actually cottoned onto what Keith was implying. The sad thing about it having been a while, is that you don’t realize that it’s actually happening until later probably.]

[For now, he waves a quick dismissive hand.]

Here or there, it’s all the same. I’ve been around enough to know. [He heaves a sigh, sounding dangerously dramatic, as he straightens up from the wall he’s been leaning on for the past hour. Even though Keith didn’t necessarily approach him, he did unfortunately make eye contact with Itsuki. And he also talked to him. So like, he’s in for it now.] But it’s fine. I mean, it’s not really fine, but the joy’s the same at the end of the day, so.

[this sounds awful!!! Itsuki squints at Keith.]

So, what exactly are you looking for? [This one’s a new guy, Itsuki notes, looking him up and down with the intention of studying him, but like??] I’d hate to brag, but I’m pretty experienced, so there’s a good chance I can do whatever you’re looking for.

[THIS SOUNDS AWFUL!!! Anyway now Itsuki’s left the wall and is probably approaching Keith, hi]

i think it was....that's too long ago.

[cauterised]

[God, that was absolutely everything she did not want to know about Itsuki, why do these things always happen to her?

It's only years of training that keep her from recoiling away in disgust; even so, her hands tighten a little painfully around his wrist before loosening as she steps back to hoist him upright again. The more distance between the two of them, the better.

(Seriously, ew.)]

Don't ever talk about that again or I'll arrest you for real.

[SHE'S NOT JOKING....DON'T DO IT.

But once the other officers are out of sight, she unlocks the handcuffs and lets Itsuki step free. The crowds always filling Westerley's streets are happy to step around them, unwilling to get caught in the middle of an Enforcer and her current victim. She could let him go, be a nice pal, but she's got another mouth to feed apart from her own and bills to pay. Shirking on the job won't do any good for her paycheck.

Besides, they're not really friends in the true sense of the word.]

You weren't planning on illegally selling any drugs while getting that drink, were you?

[lotusmesenpai]

[Despite being mildly irritated at Lavi's late arrival, he just nods once at the apology - it's not worth it right then to argue over something that probably wasn't even intentional.

Because regardless of the strain on their partnership, one thing they've always been good at is reading the room with each other - Lavi's lateness was no more a slight to him, personally, than Kanda's irritation was actually directed at Lavi, for once.

Thus, once their drinks arrive, he nods to the bartender as he reaches to catch both glasses in hand and pushes to his feet.]

Add 'em to my tab.

[That said, he shoots his partner a sidelong glance, and then nods towards a table set back from the others in a corner. Slipping into one of the seats, he offers Lavi one of the glasses, downs the other in one long swallow, and then sets the glass carefully on the table as he leans in, forearms cross on the surface before him as he gathers his thoughts.

When he finally speaks, it's just loud enough for Lavi to hear, blue eyes finally meeting and holding green with a mix of resolve and irritation.]

...Do you remember that job I caught heat for a while back? The girl that I escorted, and then... removed... from her designated location?

[He's leaving out the names of all involved, as well as the location, but he'd briefed Lavi about it after the job had been done - and Lavi had been there when their broker had torn out a strip of Kanda's hide for angering one of the Nine. Kanda knew his partner would read between the lines there.]

[nightchild]

[Itsuki immediately straightens from his 'oh woe is me, i haven't hit on a girl in ages' stance he's been perfecting for the last few hours, shooting Kanda a grin. Overall, 90% of every encounter with Kanda usually ends in pain, but Itsuki's never held a strong grudge against the killjoy for that. Probably because Itsuki's too self-aware not to know that 80% of the time it's his own fault. Anyway, at least Kanda looks pretty. Maybe Itsuki could like pretend. (im sorry laure)]

Heh, my bad. I figured it was a ninety-to ten chance, considering my track record. [He follows Kanda's gaze, ] There's a room in the back that's unoccupied. Or something. Tina's probably done with her last customer by now.

[who's tina??? Kanda probably doesn't want to know. and if Kanda doesn't grab Itsuki and force him into more private, CLEANER, pastures, then Itsuki will lead the way to some shady room, away from the crowd.]

Man, I can't remember the last time I've seen you alone though. Where's your friend?

[Is Itsuki using the word 'friend' on purpose to be annoying, probably, yes]

[nightchild]

[Itsuki stays in the shady threshold where it's safe. He can't help but wince in undisguised sympathy for that poor bastard. Though he probably deserved it. Still...]

You know, I was thinking exactly that, actually. [let Itsuki help Kanda do things that doN'T INVOLVE BREAKING PEOPLE'S NECKS!!] I know you just love getting your hurt on, but maybe I could help you in a way... that involves less beating people up? What do you think?

[unless kanda's end goal is beating people up???]

i guess i have to tag u a hundred times now to make up for it get ready val

[nightchild]

[oooh PAIN im jk pain is not one of Itsuki's kinks, THANK GOD!!!! There's something hot about authority though, this is probably why he dokis for Riza. As soon as he's free from the cuffs, Itsuki rubs his wrists, looking relieved. He's even all set to say something like 'mmm that's a tempting offer' when Riza threatens to throw him in jail for the rest of his life, god. It's just as well that she asks him a DRUGS QUESTION INSTEAD!!!]

[He turns to face her, expression half-squint, half-wounded sensibilities, and half-um??? RUDE??? okay that doesn't end up to one but. it's a good thing he's not actually out to sell drugs, sweats, because she'd totally get him. for now, he's just Shocked and Offended enough to frown.]

Woah, there. [that comment rankles. it's also completely fcking legit, but Itsuki's not exactly mature enough to realize that. All he hears is another needling question, in the same vein of those earlier enforcers.] I might look like a low-life, you know, for a Westie who's not on the Company payroll, but there are things that even I don't do for drinks.

[never mind the fact that he's buying drinks with money he has from selling drugs. That's not important! What's important is that Riza made such a rude accusation.]

Though I guess you can't help that. Just part of the job, right? I'm not Company or an elite, so I'm basically free game.

this is very true

[nightchild]

[The call goes through, Itsuki's face flickering on the screen after a few rings. He's got nothing as fancy as ship comms, but his crappy phone can at least do voice and video and text. (even if it can't do emojis, one day he'll pay for the function of sending little heart emojis to people who'd get pissed off). He looks the same as always, waving his hand at the screen once he sees Lavi's face.]

Nah, it's fine. [He's in his hole in the wall, and the sound of rain beating the pavement outside is muffled.] Unless this is just a social call, then I'll have to hang up. No offense, I'd just rather make small talk with a cute girl.

[wouldn't they all. but the chances of Itsuki actually believing that Lavi called him to make small talk is less than zero, so he props a hand up underneath his head to wait for what he has to say.]

[inksplashes]

[ Now that, Lavi thinks, is the right question.

From the killjoy perspective, the answer is simple: because they're not proft-turning cogs for the Company. But were this the simple matter of a killjoy, he wouldn't be here, wouldn't be conducting himself in the affairs of others this way.

So it's not the reclamation agent that answers, but the bookman. The historian who has walked through over a decade of watching societies rise and fall.

His voice is low, and for the most part, emotionless. Not cold, not sharp, just to the point. ]

Because you don't ask. You've been taught not to.

[ He smiles, shaking his head. ]

Sorry, that sounds a bit harsh, doesn't it? I don't mean to insult you. It's a common pattern in social structures like the Quad.

[nightchild]

[Look it's most definitely not entitlement if he just prefers working with the people he trusts!! Okay, it probably is, especially in this situation and Itsuki would understand if Nurse Bob or Scott told him to tone down the pickiness and get his ass in line, but that doesn't stop the relief that he feels when Scott totally pulls through.]

I don't know.

[he admits, releasing her once Scott takes charge. Her arm's hurt badly, but otherwise she's fine. Just skinny and underfed, with that same tired cast to her face all Westie children seem to have. She immediately relaxes when Scott helps her to the chair, though Itsuki figures that the relief on her face is from having such a hunk help her to a seat!! (no itsuki) and not because of any pain-taking shenanigans.]

And we weren't technically outside. Some company asshole was holding her arm out in the rain -- said that she tried to pick his pocket. Which she obviously didn't do. I mean, what kid from Old Town would rob from the Company when they're all foaming at the mouth?

[Most of the Company folks Itsuki's run into seemed decent, Riza (and maybe Jasck too, to a degree) coming to mind, but he's been hassled enough by others to know that a lot of them really did believe they were better than others. And with tensions running high, the jerks had more breathing room.]

She could have been there for hours before I found them.

[He doesn't actually know what the symptoms would look like if someone was out in the rain for hours, but he's sure Scott would know. anyway, more importantly, it gives good reason for Scott to totally focus on the girl!! And not Itsuki, who is fine. Even if the corner of his mouth is cut, from the punch thrown at him by that very same company asshole.]

[lotusmesenpai]

[Huffing softly in annoyance, Kanda makes a face and then pushes off the chair and crosses the room without a backwards glance. Stepping up to the bar, he's careful to stand in a way that lets him track her in his peripheral while he order a drink.

The bartender cracks a joke about pretty boys getting shot down and, honestly, it takes Kanda a moment to realize what the man means before he shrugs a careless shoulder. Downing the shot of cheap hokk, he gets another and then pushes off the bar with glass in hand.

He doesn't follow her immediately, or even directly. Instead, he cuts through a different door, and then takes another to cut back towards the hall where he'd seen her disappear. Glancing around, he catches a sight of her further down and moves to follow at an almost lazy pace.]

[lotusmesenpai]

[So long as Itsuki doesn't make jokes about Kanda's looks, or try to call him a girl, or anything along those lines, really, Kanda would probably manage to not knock the bastard out every time they met.

So really, the guy only has himself to blame for his sudden naps post Kanda visits, since he doesn't know how to not pretend.]

So long as she's not with her last customer still.

[Shrugging dismissively at that, Kanda lets it drop. He doesn't know or give a damn who Tina is (though he assumes she's one of the bar's sexters), so long as she's not in there to listen in on their conversation. He starts wave Itsuki forward, as if to shoo him towards wherever it is the other man wants to go.

(nevermind what it looks like, them going into a sexters room together)

But the question rankles.

There's innuendo there, on that word, but it strikes much to close to home. He and Lavi barely speak, really. And even after they'd met with Jennifer, they hadn't said much to each other before splitting into separate directions, falling once more into awkward avoidance as they had since the night of their confrontation.

His expression darkens, blue gaze narrowing as he glares at Itsuki.]

Not fucking here, so drop it.

[Cold and stoic, or pissed off and alone? Either way, tread carefully with this topic...]

[lotusmesenpai]

[His goal was information. What he'd gotten was propositions by disgusting men, ergo, violence is a natural default.

He starts to respond to Itsuki again, only to frown down at the man kneeling beside him - the bastard had the audacity to reach a grimy hand towards Kanda's waist. Scoffing disdainfully, Kanda smacks the hand away... and then brings a knee up sharply, catching the man under his jaw.

A loud crack echos, the drunk's eyes roll back, and he falls to the side, out cold.]

Not needed, for now. But if you've got a place where we can talk without this bullshit, I'm waiting.

Again.

[inksplashes]

[ Offering his own nod of thanks, he follows after Kanda dutifully, though the way he's eyeing those glasses of hokk make it questionable just what he's intent to follow. His arm hurts like a bitch, in terms his partner might use, and he's as likely to use that drink to numb the pain as he is to disinfect it again.

Still, he takes his drink in more measured sips, ever the paranoid one, watching the room until a cool water gaze catches his own.

Ah.

Lavi hums lightly, taking another sip. ]

She's 'in the black', hm?

[ It's an old turn of phrase, not one he expects Yu to know, though he might, but the poignancy of it amuses him nonetheless. The timing of it all starts to make sense now, though why Kanda had gone out of his way to potentially help some girl and jeopardize his standing with the RAC was still something of a mystery to his partner.

I guess that's the difference in us. You're not as ruthless as you act.

And Lavi, on the other hand, is twice as ruthless as anyone he's met. He has to be.

But that trait, mystifying as it may be, is something endearing to him, so he doesn't begrudge Kanda for it, but rather chuckles to himself, chin propped on his good hand. ]

I'm guessing you want to intervene in history again, don't you?

[ It's Yu's turn to read between the lines. Letting someone innocent get hurt never brings Lavi pleasure, but to step between the tides of war for the sake of one side over the other? That's a violation of a sorts. Not merely as a killjoy, but as a bookman.

As an afterthought and acquiescence: ]

...She better be cute.

day 7!!

[nightchild]

[Itsuki doesn't often go down to Eulogy. One, because it's always a bother to have to prove how much of a vicious criminal he is (which never works out well, he just doesn't have an impressive rap sheet. once you've seen one drug dealer, you've seen them all.) and two, because he almost always ends up getting beat up?? or mugged?? Which just means he has to hire muscle to help keep his face bruise-free, which is just another expense that Itsuki can't bring himself to pay. (he's lazy).]

[But today's different. He's passed information along and heard events unfold, and another informant he knows is in Eulogy with no intention of straying into Old Town for him, so Itsuki makes his way to the criminal underground, hoping that fate would take it easy on him for once and not punch him in the FACE.]

[the bar's a good a place as any to figure out where in the hell his acquaintance is, so Itsuki slips on in, eyes peeled. this is why he doesn't do business with other lazy people!!! they never meet him on time?? there's a clear sense of irritation coming off of him, though it's interrupted when Takasugi leans on in and speaks up.]

I could seriously use one. [he's not surprised to see him here, shuffling on over to immediately join him.] Or two. Or ten. Are you paying?

[a lesser man would argue that Takasugi totally implied it, but Itsuki knows enough not to take favors for granted.]

[inksplashes]

You and me both, pal. Get a better body or something.

[ Almost wistful, almost friendly, but not quite. Rubbing a hand down his face, Lavi considers his words carefully. Even if the lines are encrypted (and they are, Noah hasn't told him otherwise), he's not keen to discuss too much RAC business if he doesn't have to.

Though, he supposes, calculated misinformation has its purposes, too. In this sense, Itsuki is a useful resource to Lavi. Even if his existence is something the bookman is fundamentally opposed to, he can still be useful.

Besides, the chances of Lavi being the first killjoy to reach out to him are pretty slim, and if he is, he can work that angle to his advantage as well. ]

I assume you've already heard about the latest trouble brewing in Qresh? [ A little bit of laughter here, calculated but smoothly delivered. ] Eight and expecting? I need intel if you're not going to get prettier.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Kanda blinks, his confusion at the phrase evident, before he just shakes his head and takes a smaller sip of his own drink before setting it down.

It's times like that that make reading Lavi near impossible, for him. Because there seems to be amusement in the tone, the relaxed way his partner catch his chin on his fist and simply... observes him. Like Kanda himself is a part of the history Lavi is so intent on chronicling.

It's an odd, slightly uncomfortable thought, and one that (like so many others lately) gets pushed to the side. Instead of focusing on that, he leans forward to rest his forearms on the table, fingers laced loosely, lets his gaze cut around to automatically sweep the room, some part of him ever assessing the threats that may be waiting as he shakes his head.]

Not so much intervene as... [Shrugging a shoulder, he returns his gaze to Lavi once more, his expression almost bleak.] ... letting her have a hand in her own fate. She has the right to choose.

Once others find her, she won't be given that luxury, and that's bullshit.

[He knows all too well what having that right stripped from a person means. He's not going to be a party to that, this time, not for the viper's nest of demons known as the Nine, RAC be damned.]

spite, probably

[tirejacked]

[Don't infomod, Koon's meta! All bat-based jokes must come about organically.

Anyway. Familiarity, it seems, breeds distrust. Existing (technically) in the same general area a lot of the time and sharing a lot of key brokers mostly means he's seen enough of Koon to trust him to be a sharp and slippery motherfucker and...yeah, very little else. That's practically professional courtesy at this point.]

And lose out of a front row seat to the circus? Haven't seen this many dancing monkeys since the last time it was in town.

[Do they have circuses, I'm just going to blame all my potentially anachronistic dialogue on au deterioration. Anyway, system-wide politics aren't really his style. (Says the meta, while he continues to pry anyway.) Maybe he's not quite as ambitious as some of his coworkers. Certainly might seem that way. While this can (for all he cares) come off as a general carelessness for anything other than himself, if one doesn't know where to look, it's not exactly true. His focus tends to drift to different ends.]

Don't tell me you want my help that badly, hoss, I might start feeling all warm and fuzzy.

[Or maybe Koon's just wanting for the healthy competition. He goes for the former because it's more obnoxious. He doubts the latter very much, anyway. The Nine have plenty of enemies who might want to see their outdated games of succession topple. But they also have all the money and influence in the system to wave around to get what they want. And money talks.]

oj au where everyone just plays jack. &dw please give me notifs for my threads....

[tirejacked]

Someone's got to take care of the ambiance, don't you think?

[You're never too old for bad jokes to pass the time on stakeouts, Damian. He'll have to pick up the slack, because this kid takes himself so damn seriously. Which is funny enough in and of itself, actually. (What is he, ten? Twelve? And doing merc work with the lot of them. Maybe that's the bad joke.)

He takes the time pull his attention from the streets and raise a brow at the offered equipment before accepting it. Spins the spyglass between his fingers, then lifts it for a look-see over at the rendezvous. Nothing yet.]

Just making sure you're not gonna fall down on the job. You seem to have had a busy week for yourself already.

[Running around the underground and all, giving people the slip. (He hadn't taken the pains to pursue, once Damian dodged out of sight, but seems he's curious enough to be a pain in the ass over it given the chance.)]

[nightchild]

[Itsuki, thankfully, doesn't obnoxiously lean in as Kara gives herself room. There's flirty, and there's just asking to get punched in the face. That, and he can pick up on some of Kara's feelings. It's only natural, considering how everyone else feels. The attack on the family registry bureau, of all places, have lit fires where the all the hubbub about the Qreshi's baby politics haven't.]

I don't know about that. [Itsuki says, still sounding as easygoing as ever.] If it's gonna be my last day on Westerley, then I'd rather spend it with a pretty girl.

[And not get blown up, but eh. beggars can't be choosers.]

You order your drink yet? I know you've probably got places to be, but unwinding for an hour can't hurt. [It's like he forgot the reason why she called him there in the first place.]

ii

[cauterised]

Easy.

[Another hand cuts in, smaller in size but no less firm. A woman this time, hair cropped close to her chin and with a face slightly less angular, but her outfit still sports the Company insignia and the gun strapped to her thigh looks loved and well-worn.

Still, her gender and her size have always worked against her during first impressions; hope flares briefly in the suspect's eyes as he swivels towards her, words spilling forth from his lips about how this must all be a mistake, his ID is completely genuine and always has been, and if they don't let him go now his wife will kick up a fuss when he's late for dinner a third time! Excuses, all of them, and she doesn't buy a single one of them.]

I'd suggest doing as he [with a nod towards Fenris] says before we're forced to add 'lying to a Company officer' to your list of misdemeanors.

[She's might not always approve of Fenris' methods, but she does trust him to do the right thing.]

eulogy, night 7ish or something idk

[cauterised]

[Eulogy is about as much as she expects. Bright lights, overly loud music, and a cesspool of criminals with loose tongues and even looser hands.

Even the sexter rooms upstairs do little to discourage some of the bolder patrons from sidling up to her with an offer of drink in hand, or an inviting hand around her midsection. The drinks she accepts warily, in the hopes they might lead to a throwaway clue about the missing claimant papers. The unsolicited come-ons end with less success: a few sprained toes in the case of the first and a broken nose in the case of the second. A bit more attention-grabbing than she would have liked, especially given her precarious position as undercover Company in a den full of hardened criminals, but necessary for asserting some level of control of the situation.

It's control she only has a tenuous hold of. As the night stretches on, tension stretches taut through her veins. She's on high-alert - for the papers, for her own safety, for any sign this particular mission might be compromised. So when a voice pipes up too close to her ear for comfort, she acts on instinct. One hand whips out as she whirls on her heel, fingers curling into a tight fist in preparation for bone to meet bone.

Think fast, Jason.]

i'm ready!!!

[cauterised]

[Shocked and Offended is the name of the game today so TOO BAD ITSUKI. She has no sympathy for him. And she'd have no sympathy for him either if he did end up getting himself thrown in jail. It's been a long day, she wants to go home and pet her dog and cook a nice dinner, but instead she's standing outside with some guy who doesn't seem to know how to keep his mouth

Ugh.

And even though she fully expects his ire, has heard those same complaints from a hundred different other people, it still stings. (An eye for an eye, right?)]

You could have answered with a simple yes or no instead of running your mouth. Have you ever considered that might be why officers target you all the time?

[There's less annoyance to her tone now as she shakes her head, resignation taking the place of now-receding irritation. He's not a bad person and she probably ought to take a cue from her own advice and keep her own mouth shut. Though before she does so, there's something else she has to add.]

It's Hawkeye, by the way.

[Please don't be so informal as to use her first name???]

[slotted]

[ oh god, someone who he actually wouldn't mind talking to in his whole top level fdsakhg

he doesn't smile right back, but he gives her a curt nod as he escorts her to an empty table. it's almost automatic, how he pulls the chair out for her to sit, and then places a menu on the table. he doesn't bring out his notepad as he doesn't need it. he can't forget, after all. ]

What'll it be today?

[slotted]

[ ... yeah, alright. even as a joke, that isn't funny at all. ]

Guess my sense of humour isn't appreciated here.