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]

[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! ]

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.]

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. ]

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: ]

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]

hanna king // ota // week one

[brickinthewall]

leith, days 1-5

[Leith's as good a home as any.

And home's where the heart is, or some shit.

Which really means this place is kind of a dump for Hanna, and it means nothing to her. It's a place she grew up in, a couple of nice memories here and there, but it's been as much of a curse as it is a blessing. She could still pull in some favors with the good old Talbot name from time to time.

But the Talbot name isn't getting her anywhere. It's the King name that's doing the work. It's Prometheus doing the heavy lifting. Her dead lead sticks are on her back, a more subtle weapon than Lucy and her Diamonds. You'll find her at a bar, drinking something or other silently, scrolling through then network and listening. You might find her idly walking through some of the markets.

Or maybe you'll find her in a seedier part of town, fully armed. In all cases, she wears an oversized military jacket, a tank top, jeans, and combat boots. Sometimes she'll have the deep hood on, shadows pooling her face, pretending like she's got some Strider the Ranger shit going on. Who knows.

What she wants, in the end, are two things: information, and more information.

Maybe a fight, or two, if you catch her at some bar brawl. Good luck with that.]

eulogy, days 6-7

[The attack doesn't go unnoticed. Of course not. It's as good as any terrorist attack. It's the mess that got her running to Eulogy in the first place. Whoever or whatever brought on the attacks, it might lead to answers.

So enter Hanna King, a Killjoy, fully armed, hood up. If anyone's going to make a run for it, it would be now. And anyone involved in the little incident involving her team? Well. This would be the place to start, wouldn't it? Run away and hide from the monster that stalks them?

Too bad she's a Killjoy.

You might see her running at top speed, sprinting and deftly dodging people as she tears after what she suspects is a True Leithian, or you might see her actually getting into an old-fashioned fist fight.

Violence isn't your thing? That's cool too, because she'll be hanging out a bar nursing wounds with the same cold beer she's drinking. Everyone looks good with a busted lip, right?]

((ooc: black warrant information may follow!))

crowley eusford | closed prompts

[eusford]

❁ takasugi ❁ ota prompts

[shikomizue]

damian wayne | ota prompts

[bittybat]

→ Old Town, Westerely; branching out The Resistance

[Before taking a warrant from Jack, Damian spends some time scouring Westerely's underground for additional ranks of the Resistance until the departure for Leith.

Frequently, he is dipping down into the belly of Old Town with packages. If you follow him, he'll try to lose you, but ultimately, he hands off what he carries to Scarbacks. Food. Ordinary supplies. What's hidden inside them is a different story.

Sometimes, he has a strange branch made out of thick, metal wire, and this he hands off, too.

If you have good eyes, there's a package waiting to be lifted just before going to the underground, nestled in a nook and hidden by a board that's painted with a white tree with a single black (familiar) branch. Damian is on his way to retrieve it, and will be fiery mad when it isn't there.]

→ Leith; visas

[While on Leith with the True Leithians gang, Damian decides to assist his father with the illegal workers--though not in a way the RAC would be proud.

He's posing as an agent "guard" while waiting for DNA testing to go through. Any disagreements on the part of legitimacy, and Damian steps in to play a casual hand at getting the worker through.

#LETHISPEOPLEGO]

→ Wildcard

Feel free to hit Damian up on the network here during any day, or come up with your own prompt!

Jason Todd | open & closed.

[tirejacked]

OLD TOWN. OPEN.

A. around.

[The oppressive heat is only really exacerbated by the crowd. Stopped in gaggles and lines of Company security checks. He stops at the far edge of the mess before backstepping, hands in pockets, and ducking quietly down an alleyway instead. Surely, he's not trying to dodge the authorities. That would be illegal. (But hey, maybe you're looking for a good way around them, too.)]

B. hangar.

[Both before and after the rains seem to be popular times to be getting off-planet. Hopping into this particular hangar finds it occupied. Maybe you're trying to escape the heat for a little while. Maybe you're just here to be nosy. Maybe you're on your way to or from running around re: the Black Warrant, or looking for a ride up to Leith to track down some militants (and escape Jack's dad-music playlist in the process. You're welcome. No promises that the company will be much better, if you can manage to invite yourself over, but at least you won't be rolling with the oldies.)

Or maybe you're just passing through and some asshole almost drops a scifi wrench on your head. It clatters down to the floor in front of you (or...actually on top of you. you'll be fine, probably.) Looking upward to find the source finds the asshole in question perched on the wing of a ship with a panel open in front of him. He's no mechanic but he's clearly confident enough to be replacing some kind of worn out servo with a newer one.]

Whups.

[That's the least apologetic "whups" in the star system. He's not even looking down, too busy concentrating on what he's doing.]

Be a sport and toss that back up here, I'm going for the record score on Operation and I still need the funny bone.

[What is he even talking about. He's distracted, and the reference is there and gone before he can think too deeply on it.]

LEITH. JACK'S TRUE LETHIAN WARRANT, I'm too lazy for multiple toplevels.

[Jason's a city boy at heart—the green fields and cutesy rustic architecture of Leith aren't really his kind of terrain. After days of tracking down the militants, that's where they find them. There's a lot of security circling the compound. Getting close might be a problem. But they've got a decent level of manpower split up around the perimeter, and nothing breaks through a problem like a little excessive force.

C. Assuming they're split off in twos for the sake of rp, they're behind some convenient decorative leafy cover at a far exit, two Leithan guards standing at the door, several more moving past in perimeter scouting formation.

Somewhere on the other end of the building, an alarm goes off.]

Sounds like our cue.

these are rather generic so WILDCARD ME for any or all of these times and places or anything else. alternately, give me a few prefs or times/places where your character might be and I'll wildcard you instead, yolo. Closed prompts incoming soon.

fenris | ota

[eleutheron]

WESTERLEY;

i.

[ There's no joy in this. Not that Fenris finds much joy in most things, but his orders to chain a bunch of pitiful criminals to stakes and let them melt into boiling goo are certainly towards the bottom of the 'things that might ever possibly make me happy' list. Some of these people are petty thieves, stealing to survive. Some of them are murderers; some worse than that. And some of them are simply defiant.

Fenris does not hesitate as he secures the locks. No one tries to fight him, though one woman--marked as a member of the rebellion--spits in his face. He does not strike her; does not even move to wipe his face. He simply stares at her, his dark green eyes bright, the circuits in his skin gleaming. Unnervingly silent.

After what feels like hours, he's nearly finished with the last of them. A few whimper; others cry or wail. He goes on as though unaffected.

If he sees anyone approaching, whether to lollygag or interfere, he turns to them. ]

Move along. This has nothing to do with you.

ii.

[ Chaos breeds opportunity. Or just opportunists. The recent confluence of rebel attacks, the unfortunate weather, and the sudden influx of cheap identities has made the populace intractable. Fenris doesn't like needless violence, but he's hardly above it, either. He tries to discourage any funny ideas through sheer intimidation: he is not a tall man, but he is wiry and taut, and he has the look of a coiled snake. His carved skin and pointed ears set him apart, and when he's put on ID check duty, most people try to avoid his line. But he drags them over, anyway.

If there's dissension or if someone tries to resist once their ID is found false, he grabs their wrist. Maybe you overhear the sound of bone fracturing; maybe you want to step in.

Or maybe it's you he's got cornered. ]

You, there. Let me see your ID.

LEITH;

iii.

[ Towards the end of this increasingly long week, Fenris arrives at the Blessed Branches hotel. He has to keep the surrogate safe, and that's what he means to do. It's one of the few orders he'd take even if he wasn't in thrall to the Company; killing pregnant women will not stand, and he means to protect the surrogate with his life.

For the present, he's out in the lounge, drink in hand. Ice clinks against his glass as he sits on one of the red velvet couches, his back straight, his expression alert. He's looking for familiar faces--or for unsavory strangers. If he sees someone skulking about, or looking like they might be here for something other than a luxurious weekend getaway, he'll approach. ]

Mind yourself.

WILDCARD;

iv.

[ Let me know if none of these suit, or if you have somewhere else in mind--Fenris can move about pretty freely! I'm happy to write more specific starters, also. ]

Kanda Yu | OTA & Closed | Week 1

[lotusmesenpai]

❃ Closed | Lancer | Day 2, Early Morning

[The problem with working for a crafty bartender is that, more often than not, he has Kanda agreeing to do something that isn't normally something he'd consider doing.

Like getting to the bar at sunrise, just to play security guard while they moved supplies down into a safehouse/storage area somewhere in the tunnels. Whether it was for local use, resistance, or the tunnel rats below, Kanda didn't know or care. All he knows is that he's been sitting in the empty bar for a half hour, sipping a bitter cup of caff as he waits for the other person to arrive.

Whomever it is, the bastard better get here soon, before Kanda's patience wear out...]

❃ Closed | Jennifer & Lavi | Day 2, Late Afternoon

[Seeing that warrant go out, seeing the utter vagueness of what a 'legitimate' heir is, and seeing that bitch Seyah Derrish's name involved, Kanda's first thought was surprising, even to himself.

They just painted a target on their little banished princess.

He's stopped in a few times since he'd filled a warrant to the technicality and then taken Jennifer from the facility where her family wanted to dump her and helped her get set up in Old Town. It's not an ideal location, to be sure, but at least it's in a room over a bartender known for doing the right thing (most of the time).

That might just be coming back to bite him now.

Because now? He's waiting for Lavi to meet him in the bar below, so they can head up to Jennifer's apartment. If nothing else, he plans to give her a choice in how her life gets flipped upside down by all this bullshit. Something those spoiled meatbags from Land Derrish never did.]

❃ Open | Day 3, Tunnels in Old Town

[Black rain has, more than anything else, the absolute worst timing. Between people acting stupidly, tempers flaring with the heatwave, having at least the last break should normally be a good thing. This time, however? Too many people staked in the rain, too much anger flooding the locals, and not enough common sense to calm anyone in between.

So here he is, just trying to make it as close to the intake facility as possible so he can get back to Noah for a shower and, if he's lucky, a nap.

Unfortunately for him, his luck rarely runs that way.

Rounding a corner, he quite nearly collides with someone else. Glaring in the dim light, he quickly sidesteps around the other person. ]

Watch where the hell you're going, idiot.

❃ Open | Wild card

Want something on day one or day 7 or somewhere in between? Just hit me up here and we can figure something out! ♥