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

leo elster | ota | week one

[slotted]

➤ WEEK ONE, DAYS 1-4
[ today's been rather busy, with all sorts of people traveling to leith for various kinds of businesses. the cafe leo works at—CRAFT—as it's called, is no exception. leo hasn't been able to sit down as people keep coming and going and he has to get people's orders and also man the register. thankfully, he isn't the one who has to cook the food and clean the dishes. they aren't understaffed by any means, considering how well-off the company is! it's just that nobody wants to be in the same shift as leo.

life is tough when you're an elster. especially for this week. he's the only waiter-slash-barista for the closing shift. maybe you can catch him before he closes the cafe, or while he's serving other customers. (either way, this is an open prompt to anybody who wants to join him at the cafe!)

there's good food, possibly a good conversation depending on how much you slide under the table. ]


➤ WEEK ONE, DAY 5
[ leo has never really planned on dressing up properly, which is why he still looks like a hobo. it doesn't help his reputation at all, but he doesn't care about his appearance. it gave him a hard time, though, as his working visa has expired. he's gone to renew it today, of course, and the process was a dire and long one. but he's done it!

now that his visa is active again, he walks around the bazaar to go to work. except he's being blocked by a lovely lady who's trying to get him to join her in bed. he looks very awkward as he tries to get away from this conversation, which is why he points to the closest person, which may or may not be you. ]

They want to. Why don't you ask them?

[ he'd explode on the escort right about now, especially after the happenings in westerely, but that would be rude, wouldn't it? he'll just try to get away from this mess the easiest way he knows how. passing the trouble to somebody else. :) ]


[ for any week one, day 6-7; week two events you'd like to do with leo, plot with me here! ]

closed prompts | various cr

[inksplashes]

scott | closed | w1d1 | everyone hates morning people

[inksplashes]

[ The morning sun beats down against the nape of his neck with restless pursuit, white-hot and lingering even as he disappears into the still shaded alcoves and storefronts within Old Town. Clad in his usual black and red layers, the killjoy is a poster child for heat exhaustion and all the ways to acquire it, but his mood doesn't seem to be suffering for it.

If anything, he just gets more cheerful the hotter the weather and temperaments around him seem to burn.

So it's with this particularly stubborn brand of morning-person cheer that Lavi enters the clinic, friendly grin painted on his marionette face. ]

Good morning!

[ Blinking slightly, he pauses at the entryway, surveying the waiting room and the crude drawings lining the walls. Either the clinic's decorator has terrible art tastes or they tend to a lot of children.

Good, he thinks, easy marks.

Strolling to the front desk, he suppresses a sigh of disappointment when he isn't greeted by a hot young nurse with ample curves, but settles for a kid who looks like he might be an easy enough checkmark on Lavi's morning manipulation list. ]

Moment of your time for a good cause?

d3

[brickinthewall]

[Stuff's been wild these past few days. Leith's been nothing but coming and going, and Hanna's just here to breathe for a little while. Even the most violent need down time.

But it's late, and she's really not feeling up to dealing with people too much. On the best days, she wanted to punch half of them.

She strolls into the cafe, curiously devoid of her usually weaponry. Admittedly, the Killjoy feels a little on this side of naked without them.]

You take last minute requests?

[Her hair's up in a messy ponytail, her expression caught somewhere between half bored and half tired.]

[snuggies]

coming out to have a good time like everything hurts and i'm dying (eulogy, post-day 5)

[ Scott's life doesn't stop because his claimant papers have gone missing. He still has work to do, and a mother to be a doting son too, so when the teen finally rocks up to the infamous hotspot of criminal activity, it's sunset rather than ominously deep into the night. The abandoned mine is massive as it creates an imposing silhouette against the fading sunlight, its shadow cloaking nearly as much on the outside as it surely does in. It's only out here, in the lonely terrain that Scott might see such a hulking figure.

And he looks incredibly inconvenienced by this "little trip" so when he discovers that he's going to need proof or reputation of his misdeeds to be allowed in, he isn't particularly impressed. Because no, he's definitely here to stay. Until he gets what he came for.

a. But it's not easy. Scott might have no fear or hesitation to speak of in the face of brawlers and criminals, with weapons and sneers and murder in their histories, but he's also not looking for a fight. (He's resilient, but not tough enough to singlehandedly bring the entire security force down.) He'll do his best to stand his ground, squaring his shoulders and keeping his posture firm, and maybe all this leads to is a little escalation in the volume of their conversation.

Or maybe he's getting pushed around, and not taking too kindly to the treatment.

b. Stubborn as he is, Scott's patient enough to play the waiting game. He keeps an eye on the security, making his way around the entire facility to look for gaps and openings. And if he finds one, you bet that he's going to go for it: scaling walls and shuffling quietly along, using the darkness as best as he can. (He is, after all, a creature of the night.) And maybe he gets caught, or maybe he doesn't. He's got sensitive ears to his benefit, but that doesn't mean in a moment of distraction that he's infallible.

c. Against all odds our teen wolf has managed to make his way inside! It might've been a little help from his buddy Kara, or having finally resorted to asking a RAC agent for help, or maybe he managed to actually sneak in (dubious), but he's made it and the stink and sound of the place is wreaking havoc on his senses. He's trying to focus, drawing into himself, but the minute he finds himself alone the discomfort laces his skin.

He'll bump roughly into someone, trying to follow the tantalizing end of one conversation in a sea of thousands, or maybe he'll reach out on purpose instead, starting off with an eloquent ] hey.

[ ooc: individual starters will pile up below! my plotting comment is here for anyone that would like to hash something specific out! ]

riza

[snuggies]

[ It doesn't sit right with him. The people of Old Town are stretched and tired for the most part; they work and they work, with no hopes of lavish vacations or rewards, and they make the best of their everyday, feeling bitter only when they remember the promises echoed in the Accords. And Scott hates seeing those prisoners, tied in the streets, each drop of poison rain chipping away at their already disfigured flesh, he—

He's warmed a little, at the sympathy he sees around him--the anger, and the longing to be able to act.

But no one's going to risk their necks for a criminal. Not Scott, who doesn't have much hope or motivation, and contents himself with his day to day.

Not until the shouts of a girl go from reaching only sensitive werewolf ears to reaching normal human volume, and he jerks. ]

I need a minute. [ He's outside now, a jacket pulled over his scrubs from the clinic, hood up to shield him from the rain though some of the rain still manages to sear his skin. (And it wears at his jacket anyway.)

The woman he's talking to is just shorter than him, looking stern and unmoving as any other Enforcer, but Scott doesn't regret his decision in the slightest, just as firm in his stance though he doesn't move forward aggressively enough to appear imposing. ]

With this woman. [ The prisoner. ]

takasugi

[snuggies]

[ He'd pushed his luck too far. The first Enforcer he'd approached hadn't seen fit to arrest him on the spot, and he should've known better than to let that encounter leave him bold--he'd even though that he wasn't interested in the prisoners any longer, having spent long enough in Old Town to know when to bow his head and accept his environment.

It was just so hard to focus. The prisoner's weren't silent as they lay out in the open, the rain eating away at them slowly. He was supposed to be treating the burn of a young boy, but his hears couldn't shake the sound of one of the prisoners outside, groaning and crying as he died and, he just couldn't focus.

So he might've gone out and asked one of the Enforcers to just kill them already, gesturing a little too violently to the weapons that they carried and—

It didn't end well. ]

Shit. [ His curse is quiet, barely audible over his footsteps and breaths and mind racing as thinks about how grateful he is that he'd learned about these tunnels just days prior, though impossible to navigate as they might be.

His mind isn't quite able to keep up with his body as it is, and he's just so focused on escape that when Takasugi crosses his path he can't skid to a stop fast enough ] whoa!

[snuggies]

[ One of the simplest ways to describe Old Town would be "a lot"--it's a lot of noise, a lot of movement, a lot of smells. When he'd first come across his new abilities, it had overwhelmed him, and left him feeling lost and distracted. It was difficult to focus when you're a teenage boy and hungry, and you can smell the lunch from a shopkeep three blocks down.

There was an adjustment period, but Scott had since settled and grown accustomed to the rhythms of the city. It was his only home, and his new perception of it too, became ordinary.

He doesn't think too much of it when Lavi strolls in because it's not customary for him to be suspicious of people, and his mind is still half-focused on thinking about their stock and supplies. ]

Good morning. [ He returns, polite and friendly as he fixes the stranger with a small, but genuine, smile. ] Sure, do you need something?

[slotted]

[ leo's in the middle of boxing things, but he drops what he's doing to tend to the new customer. ]

You make it sound like this is a bar.

[ ... ah, whatever happened to "welcome to CRAFT, how may i help you today?" ]

[cauterised]

[Welcome to life, Scott. Nothing is fair and no one plays by the rules.

If there's anything Riza's learned over the years, it's that one singular fact. The Nine, the Company, the RAC, even the Resistance themselves....not a single group's free of occasionally taking the moral low ground, exchanging personal good karma for a chance to better the whole. (Or in some cases, still better themselves.) She certainly isn't, though she's wished time and again things had turned out differently.

She's pulling on her second glove, a precautionary measure against the droplets that sizzle flesh and ground and cloth when he comes ambling up, voice even as he makes his request. Her eyes flick from him to the prisoner in question then back to him, silently trying to determine her connection to him.

A relative? A girlfriend? Either way, she's sorry.]

You should get inside. The rain won't stay this light for long.

[Not a complete rebuff, but she's not keen on staying outside a moment longer than she has to. (Nor is she keen on watching more people suffer longer than she has to.)]

kara styrdottir || one open & several closed prompts

[valr]

> Eulogy; open; day 1 - 4

[With the rains pouring down acid, Kara decides it's best to stay at work even when she clocks off at the end of her shifts, preferring to avoid getting her wings wet. There are the tunnels, of course, and other ways through the Badlands, but then there's also the increased Company presence to contend with, which might actually be worse than the acid rain. It makes for an interesting atmosphere, especially when this Derrish bullshit is tossed into the mix. Any crook for hire worth their salt is scrambling for news from the rest of the Nine, hoping to get a job taking out the rumoured heir. Most of the idiots only care about themselves, so they haven't even considered what the fallout will be.

It keeps Kara busy, feeding names and faces and tips to any of her Killjoy contacts. It means she has to actually pay attention to what's happening around her, so she drifts from bar to bar, finding good spots to people watch without being too obvious.

She has a feeling it's going to be a long few days.]

> closed; Ginshu; day 3

[Ginshu isn't someone that Kara spends a lot of time with; not that she doesn’t like him (she doesn’t really have an opinion on him), but because it's too risky for two people from the Resistance to be seen together. Still, it doesn't surprise Kara all that much when he reaches out to ask for her assistance with something dangerous.

Those in the Resistance who know Kara are aware of her military history, making her a good choice when dirty work needs to be done. She isn't sure exactly what Ginshu has in mind, but with the increased Company presence and the executions, she can't imagine it'll be simply.

Right now, something challenging will be good to distract her from all the bullshit going on, so she's happy to make her way into the deeper tunnels to where Ginshu told her to meet him.]

> closed; Itsuki; day 5

[The Red Stag is one of Kara's favourite bars, mostly thanks to the level of discretion that both the owner, and the other patrons, are willing to uphold. A lot of shady deals go on in the Stag, but it’s a different calibre of criminal than the type who frequent Eulogy, so Kara doesn't need to worry about any overlap. And a little bit of Joy slipped to the owner means that if anyone decides to ask whether he knows Kara, he'll always say no.

It makes it a good place to hold meetings with Killjoys or other information traders, even ones as annoying as Itsuki. If he has information about the attack on the FRB, she's willing to deal with being hit on.

The bar is quiet when she slips in, likely due to the rains, because not everyone knows the city as well as Kara. She can hardly blame them for not knowing how to get from place to place without exposing themselves to the acid. No one inside pays her any mind as she orders a whiskey and takes up a seat in a booth near the back, settling in to wait.]

> closed; Jason; later on day 5

[There are leads to follow, and Kara is trying hard to keep her anger at bay so she can focus on the task at hand without losing her cool. Right now that means arranging a meeting with Jason, at Eden, so they can update each other on what they've got so far. She has a feeling that Jason shares her current sentiments; he tries to hide it, but he seems to have a protective streak when it comes to underdogs, judging by the warrants he favours, as well as his methods.

It's her second meeting of the day, but she needs to keep moving with the information she has, so it's worth it. She just hopes Jason doesn't decide to run late.]

b aka "scott no"

[valr]

[There are a dozen ways in and out of Eulogy.

Most people only know about the front entrance, which is the way the bosses want it, because it stops any whispers getting to the Company's ears. If anyone comes knocking at the front door, all the important people can be gone before they even break it down.

Of course, that means that someone can sneak in through one of those back doors, though it's a very rare occurrence that someone attempts it; most people aren't that dumb. Depending on which particular security guard comes across an intruder, the responses can range from being thrown out, to being shot on sight.

Luckily for Scott, it's Kara who's taking a smoke break out on a balcony when she looks down to spot someone scaling the wall.]

Hey! [He's at least a yard below her, but she knows how to make herself heard.] The fuck do you think you're doing?

hunting down some leithians (closed)

[refactor]

[ Just a general note that each of the headers are meant as suggestions for you guys to make your own sub-prompts/reply to each other/etc.! Don't feel like you need to wait for me or for Jack to get to playing, since I'll be a bit slower than normal.

For reference, here is a google doc summarizing the flow of this plot (and let me know if any edits are needed!) and the original plotting toplevel is here. ]

part 1 (info hunting)

[refactor]

[ Westerley has never exactly been quiet, but after some of the neighbors in the Quad decided to pay a visit, it's been especially busy. The Family Registry Bureau is a crucial building to the people of Westerley, so the fact that it's been attacked has caused quite a stir.

It's also caused quite a few people to go hunting for the people responsible. Whether that's literal or metaphorical depends entirely on who you bump elbows with.

But first thing's first, you have to find the people first. Whether it's hitting up your local infobroker or using the acidic rain to your persuasive advantage, there are creative ways to weasel out the information you might need. ]

part 2 (road trip)

[refactor]

[ With a few names in hand and a warrant as some extra motivation, there's an interesting group of people en route to Leith to go claim their prize. One of the agents has kindly provided transport, but how did that happen anyways... Maybe you could ask? Or maybe you should just keep to yourself.

That would be a shame, though. You've got at least a little bit of a ride before you land on Leith, so why not get to know your new, if temporary teammates? You might be depending on them to watch your back later. ]

part 3 (confrontation on leith)

[refactor]

[ For anyone that sticks to Westerley, Leith is quite the sight. Rather than the wastelands or the dank Old Town, Leith is full og greenery as far as the eye can see. It's beautiful, really, and even their target is quaint and rustic with the very old-feeling way everything on the farms are built. Make no mistake, though, since the emblems you might see on a flag or two make it clear that this is the right place.

You have a job to do, since there's someone on this farm who has a warrant on their head. You need to bring them in alive, but you're likely to realize the same doesn't go for you. Despite its quaint looks, there are heavily armed guards patrolling the farms, since they realize that people like you might be coming. Maybe that's more fun, though. It'd be a shame if it wasn't a challenge, right? ]

koon | ota | week 1

[deceptions]

DAYS 2-4.

[ Here's the deal: this black warrant surprisingly hits close to home.

Not for the right reasons — Koon was never supposed to be a heir, so that's a dream that he's given up long, long ago. But their possibly heir-less status is interesting. The fact that they're desperate enough to use the entire RAC force to find their precious surrogate mother? Especially so.

Which means this isn't an offer he can possibly refuse. Apparently, it's not an offer that anyone can possibly refuse either, because suddenly the entire Quad is involved. And when the entire Quad is involved, word gets around. It turns out that a fair number of people want information, or him ( hopefully alive, though assassins are a popular choice ). The days start with him smug and eager to share the wrong information, but the later into the warrant it gets, the more he's prone to snapping.

A. He jumps from the streets of Westerley to Leith, then back again, going where information leads him. Occasionally, he runs into people, some more familiar than others. ] This isn't your usual hangout. [ This is?? Sort of a greeting, right?

Or! B. Back to the people that want him dead. This time, it's multiple people, at least a good 5 or so; they currently have him and his company of choice ( that's you! ) in some shady alleyway in Westerley. ] Oops. Didn't mean to drag you into this. [ He's annoyed, yes, but he's not going to show anytime soon — also his not!apology seems so insincere?? What's up with that?? Maybe he planned to get stuck with someone so he didn't have to fight, who knows. He might feel a little bad if his partner has no idea why they're getting ambushed like this. Just a little. ] But it looks like they're not going let us [ Translation: me, but you're stuck here anyway. ] go any time soon.

BLACK WARRANT: HOTEL SHOWDOWN.

[ After days and days of tracking down a heir — from hunting down the wrong heir, to being chased because of his own background, Koon's got his own fair share of frustration and anger built up. He's careful about not showing it ( though his face shows exhaustion, his eyes equal parts angry and exasperated ), but this?

This mess in the hotel? This is the last straw. If he had to put this much work for a stupid thanks, he wouldn't have done it in the first place. But he's here now, and this would be a terrible failure on his record. ] God damn it—

[ In his right hand is a simple dagger; not exactly the most hi-tech weapon someone can own. Apparently no one seems to have noticed he's here, or realized who he is, because for the first time this week, he's getting a moment of peace despite walking with a weapon ( this fight is a disaster ). ]

Hey you. [ Friendly or not, you're getting stopped by a rather annoyed looking Killjoy. ] You're not here to take the princess away for yourself, are you? [ "Princess", as in the surrogate. ]

BONUS: PROMPT-O-MATIC.

[ koon's life will be consumed by the black warrant for the days it's active, and after that he'll be at the eulogy, probably. leave me a comment, blank or with a location, and i'll write you a starter! i also take wildcards, and plotting things out. c: ]

[refactor]

[ See, now Jack? Jack had a personal investment in all of this.

While he was largely content to sit on the sidelines and let idiots pour into his sector of the intake facility when shit went sideways, this particular instance? Nope. No way. He kept his plans quiet, relatively speaking, but it still wasn't very hard for anyone to guess why Handsome Jack would have such a vested interest in the registry bureau. He was like every other Westie in that sense. That bureau was his only chance for something better.

...Or at least that's what he'd tell you.

In truth, he had his own plans for ensuring his success, but his family's records weren't important to him so much as a daughter that was a very, very tightly kept secret. There weren't many people that knew of her existence at all, and that was exactly the way Jack would have things. But it gives him a bit more motivation than usual to go out into Old Town and even brave the elements just to hunt down a few names...

i. [ The first option, of course, is looking for information brokers. It's a lucrative business on Westerley, and over the years? Jack has built up a nice little network of contacts. He's a Company man through and through, but he knows who to rub elbows with and how to give payment in return for their service. Maybe you're one of those infobrokers, in which case Jack will be giving you one of his charming (?) smiles. ]

Sssso! You and me, pal. You got anything for me? Because boy. Let me tell you, if I get something good, I might just be able to give something good in return if you're catchin' my drift here.

ii. [ Or maybe an infobroker put you in contact with Jack, because he does have a little more information than most. You might know of him, since Jack isn't exactly shy, even for a Company man in Old Town. He's got something of a reputation, though whether it's a good one or not depends more on how you tend to view his work at the intake facility... But, for now? You're stuck with him. ]

Ohhhh man. Y'know? I've been thinking. It's gonna be great to find one of the dickmunchers responsible, don't ya think? I've- Look, I'm just saying, maybe I have an idea to get 'em talking.

[refactor]

[ You know what's super unfortunate? Being stuck on this ship with Jack. Because unlike normal situations, there is no escaping his obnoxious personality, at least not without venting yourself (or him) out of the airlock. Alas.

On the bright side, at least he's keeping it to a relative minimum, since for now, he's found a crusade to champion, and that's absolutely the music situation. He has his datapad in hand, and he wags it towards you as it plays pretty much exactly what you'd expect from a man of his age.

Just don't call him old. He's sensitive. ]

Look, c'mon, I'm just saying, I'm gonna win here either way! So just give it up and let me play some sweet tunes.

[ Have you actually been arguing with him over this, or is he just saying it? Both are possible. ]

I mean- Look, either we just agree that my music is the best or I hack into the ship's systems and you're all stuck with it anyways. So! Path of least resistance has got to be wayyyy better, right?

[shikomizue]

[The resistance was stirring in the tunnels like a black beast under the city, rolling its shoulders as it awoke after years of forced hibernation. Trapping a creature would only make it feverish with rage, making the monster as likely to bite it's own arm off as it was to clench its jaws on the heads of its enemies.

Takasugi's cell of rebels - terrorists - took to the stars for their organization. But, there were times when intersecting with the amassing group of malcontents stood to benefit even the most lofty of groups.

He made no advertisement of who he was as he traversed the tunnels, giving the markings on the wall only passing glances. He wasn't here for them - he was here to see anger. Fear.

And release it from its confines.

Crashing into a very frantic youth wasn't his usual method of approach-] You'll draw more attention to yourself if you run, you know. [Takasugi wasn't floored in the collision, nor did he grab onto the other to provide stability. He righted his posture promptly, looking down on his pipe with the most mild of disappointment - the tobacco had been knocked from it.]

d3 probably

[shikomizue]

[From the outside, the coffee house had a rather pleasant aroma. Rich, deep, and bitingly lush, it was enough for Takasugi to extinguish his pipe as he approached. The scent of tobacco would be lost anyway.

Slipping inside when the establishment was crowded, however, brought with it the sickly sweet smell of the perfumed nobility.

He masked his distaste as he ordered his simple tea and took a seat after he received the beverage. The lone bartender was familiarly busy, but frantic multitasking wouldn't save Leo from yet another demand.

Takasugi raised his hand and beckoned the worker over.] This is too sweet. [He pushed his drink forward, Joy folded between the cup and saucer, in what had become their customary exchange of payment.]

closed prompts

[selfsatisfy]

itsuki kagami | OTA!! | week one

[nightchild]

on westerley; out and about

A; days 1-7
[even when there's black rain, and even when Company folks are executing people in said black rain, and even when the family registry bureau blows up sky-high, you Gotta Go To Work. especially if said work thrives on incidents like these; tragedy and destruction always feed the rumor mill, and Itsuki's having quite a time keeping it all straight.]

[which doesn't mean he can't keep it straight, especially for any curious and willing to pay customers who're looking to contact a relatively cheap information broker. whether it's at itsuki's hole in the wall in old town, in the under city tunnels, or a shady bar -- Itsuki's ready to pass on the news. His eyes flick, and his face morphs into a slow, lazy smile as he's approached.]

Looking for something? [OR, ALTERNATIVELY] Man... Really... Can't at least one of my customers be a cute girl? The number of scraggly, unwashed grunting types always goes up when things get down, like clockwork. Ahhh, just my luck.

[he's not insulting anyone okay that's just ur imagination]

B; days 1-4

Hey, hey!

[a quick, discordant voice cuts through the otherwise silent night. this is the sort of night where Westerlies know how to keep their head down, partly to avoid the rain and partly to avoid suspicion. hurrying past and to their homes with nary a peep. and usually, Itsuki goes with the flow too. He's not a rebel, and he's not that big of a soft-heart to stick his neck out and gain attention, and he knows when to keep his own irritated thoughts behind closed doors. that is. usually.]

Look, officer, is all this really necessary? [Itsuki asks, spreading his arms out in the universal sign of 'I SURRENDER' as two Company employees give him unamused stares. He was just about to enter a bar before ] Come on, look at my face! You can't tell me that someone as good-looking as me's a trouble-maker! Besides, I go to this bar all the time. Just go in and ask the Madam, she likes me. Seriously, just because you two don't know how to unwind doesn't mean I don't --

[One of them steps forward THREATENINGLY and Itsuki shrinks back accordingly, still with the same insolent grin on his face though. nice itsuki]

Man, persistence is so unattractive in a guy. You'll never get popular with the girls if you don't learn to let up -- what was that? You're married? Really? I hope you're not this prickly towards your missus then -- hey, what are you -- ow!! Oww!!

[One grabs Itsuki's waving arm and wrenches it behind him, and he lets out an indignant squawk as the other probably like pulls out a HANDY BATON. SAVE ITSUKI!!! or just tell him to fork over his id already]

C; Days 5-7. eulogy

[whether you're trying to sneak in, you're already in but you're staring everyone down with poorly-disguised murderous intent, or you're part and parcel with all the thugs around (but seem to have lost your way??), Itsuki puts in his unwanted two cents from the doorway of a particularly seedy establishment.]

Need some help there?

[he'll take pity on those who aren't cool enough to mingle with criminals, really. he has the best intentions at heart!! please trust him. and ignore the fact that being in eulogy just makes him untrustworthy by principle.]

[OOC: also I'll write up starters so anyone who wants to hit up further plotting beyond these prompts let me embrace you]

Lavi | Making like rats [Undercity Tunnels]

[selfsatisfy]

[Lavi has his own business in life. ...Actually from what Midori does know he'd say Lavi tiresomely has his fingers in too many pies. Then again Midori is so lazy he keeps a single hobby, a job and absolutely nothing else. No girlfriend, no secondary hobbies, social activities run the gamut of "hospital holiday party" and pretty much nothing else.

So. Yeah. Lavi has a really busy life. And here Midori is in it! Not just a looker on, but actually assisting in bringing supplies to Lavi's friends down under. Most doctors would doubtless be a little nervous going somewhere they obviously don't belong. Midori, in contrast, is viewing this as an unexpected boon for the day. Like someone buying you ice cream after you choked down another poor person's dinner of cup noodles.

Yeah. He's lived that reality too. As such he appreciates Lavi's (metaphorical) gift of ice cream. ...This metaphor got kinda weird, but we're just going to roll with it.]

I wouldn't have expected you to be so kind, Lavi. [He's been surprised by this act of charity? Maybe?] Then again you're always attentive in cultivating what's useful to you.

[Nevermind, he's just an asshole. Despite the terrible conversation he keeps up well enough, lugging the case of medical supplies he's carrying easily even as he slips around those who live and clog the tunnels down here. ...He has no idea where they're going, of course, dependent on Lavi to guide him. But that's just part of the fun.]

[slotted]

[ this demand is something he's more than willing to take on, too. not because all he has to do is replace it, but because of what comes along with it. his hands take the cup, bowing his head to takasugi as a means of apology. there's a faint whisper of "I'll take care of that for you," before he heads back to the kitchen.

prior to heading to the back, he dims the lights which signals the customers to start packing up as the cafe will be closing soon. some already start leaving, while some wait for leo to come back so they can pay their bills. it only takes about three minutes for leo to get a replacement cup of tea, serving it along with honey, sugar, and milk, whichever floats takasugi's boat, really.

he gives him a look before leaving the table and serving the other customers, taking their money and giving them their change. moments later, they're alone. the door is closed, there's not much light, the kitchen staff have likely gone home. nobody cares about leo, so it's fine if he's alone in the cafe. ]