Chapter 5

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week IX, Day II - Week XI, Day III
Summary: Chapter 5 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, calendar information/dates can be found here, warrant page is here, and Hyperion missions, here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Superficial Alliance

On the surface, a nice space pleasure cruise is all it took to unify the Nine once more. Whether it be bowing to the Kendry show of power, or biding their time, the other families of Qresh have fallen in tow with the pervasive hard-line approach that has come to characterize their interaction with the citizens of the Quad. Citing the disorder on Westerley and the disrupted peace on Leith, the mantra of the Nine is restore peace to benefit all. A unified front for the sake of everyone under their rule. At least, on the surface. Land Hyponia has not lost their favor for the common man, though distinguishing citizen from Resistance from gang is nigh impossible from such a lofty position. Unable to touch base with the society they seek to protect, the family will put out warrants (by proxy) for RAC agents to discern how much honest Resistance remains on Westerley, and the intent and ability of such forces. They will also reach out to those in other houses who may have indicated a desire to help over the past months. Contact will be brief, subtle, and secret, but the mobility that others of Qreshi society enjoy is something Land Hyponia covets, and they will pay whatever they can for aid, even if that comes only in the form of information. Lastly, an anonymous network post, made by the Hyponia leader through several proxies, will appear on the network, asking all who can contribute for a 'state of the Quad' from their own eyes. Hacker and info broker characters may discern that this post comes from Qresh, but may not trace it back to Hyponia directly.

The Company: Shifting Focus

With the concern of food shortages on Leith rising, scorched fields and wealth slipping between the cracks in reappropriation, the Company has shifted its attention to the quieter moon. To the dismay of many Leithans, Company officials - mainly those born on Leith - begin to arrive by the shipful, armed and ordered to maintain the peace as tensions rise. WIth them comes a Company organized food distribution plan, a task which many Enforcers can expect to be given. They must both collect supplies or funds from more well off Leithans, and distribute these resources from a main hub to organizations in need. Of course, some families will be less than happy to oblige, requiring verbal diplomacy some more accustomed to Westerley may struggle with. Additionally, there is the thread of raids taking place upon those laden with supplies, carried out both by the growing Resistance cells or agitated Leithans alike. Alongside the Company's humanitarian efforts, an order has been given to all assigned to the moon: stamp out any Resistance with utter efficiency. No need to arrest, simply kill and file a report. Stark as this change may be for the citizens of Leith, the Company does not wish to sour their relationship too much, as many of the more prominent families of Leith trace their ancestry back to those in the Nine. Violence should be non-public, if possible, and mere suspicion is not currently enough to justify an act of coercion. Save for the rare exception, those Company employees bred from Westerley will be left to monitor the situation at 'home', disconnected from their units or typical tasks, if necessary, to ensure their station on the moon. Others may be assigned to space, as all Scarback movement will become increasingly restricted, with their ships traveling or lingering in the Quad subject to search and seizure operations. In the face of such disruption, only those in the upper echelons of the Company are privy to the whole story, and even then it is only through inferences that such an end can be reached. The Company is looking to abandon Westerley, its society too broken and crumbling to be repaired in the state it's in. Now begins not a reallocation of forces, but an exit strategy, leaving only who they must behind as they review resources and examine options for a purge of the filth that has overtaken Westerley. To many, the best option is major carpet bombing, as has been utilized by the Company in the none-too-distant past at Sugar Point, but there have been no official decisions. Yet. Characters who will have direct access to data regarding the above directive: Rhys, Sion, Jack, Ango, Sui Feng Characters who may have some access to data regarding the above directive via hacking or info-brokering: Lapis, Angel, Kara, Badou, Noiz, Annabeth

Westies: Calming Storms

Change still boils on Westerley - though to the undiscerning eye, it seems to have cooled to a simmer. After the violence, rioting, and the prevalence of gangs in weeks past, it seems Westerley is finally getting it out of her system. Life is returning to normal, at least by Westerlyn standards. You're still likely to hear of people being killed in the streets, whether it's because of a deal gone bad or the Company exerting its force, but that's normal. Westerley is returning to its own version of calm, since with the situation growing worse on Leith, it seems that the Company is focusing their efforts there. However, there are stirrings that it may be more than just that. There are rumors that people important to the Company are being pulled off of Westerley entirely, and indeed, you're likely to notice far less of a Company presence as you wander the streets of Old Town. It's a fact that's met with mixed reception. On one hand, the resolution to violence comes partially in response to the decreased presence. No longer fearing for the repercussions of what the Company might do, gangs and other seedy organizations don't feel quite so threatened, and they don't need to enact a continual show of force to exert their rule. For any of the opportunists of Westerley, this vacuum presents an extraordinary chance. If you're looking to find a spot in the seedier organizations of the Quad, now is the time, since they're looking to bolster their numbers. If you have skill, then you're likely to be offered a position that might be a little more lucrative than simply scavenging around between odd jobs. You just have to be willing to look the other way when things get nasty. However, for the people with more legitimate business interests, it signals something different. What if the Company is losing its interest in Westerley? Westerley was once important to the life of the Quad, but as it's stripped of resources more and more, maybe this signals something to the effect that the Company's need of Westerley is waning. If the moon is no longer profitable, then the Company has no interest in it at all, and the Company is nothing if not thorough in taking every ounce of profit they can from their investments. But once they have, what's left is as good as trash. If you're a more concerned citizen, it might be a good idea to try and get your papers together, just in case. If the Company leaves Westerley entirely, then the whole moon is likely to become no better than Eulogy. Company inattention isn't the only matter for concern or profit, of course. As the breadbasket of the Quad--Leith--is crippled with civil strife and sees their own citizens go hungry, the impacts are felt across Westerley threefold. Those who rely on Company rations for sustenance are cut off with little warning while those who normally source their own food fare little better. Prices skyrocket, in part due to limited resources and increased demand, and in part thanks to the mercantile spirit of the locals. But that's not to say that the softer-hearted don't respond and mobilize in their own way. While the people of Leith are unfamiliar with such dire struggles, Westies have long endured periods of chaos and unrest, and many within the community have built emergency stocks for just such an occasion. Perhaps you're among those dooms-day prepping citizens, or perhaps you're fortunate enough to have an in and siphon the resources of your neighbor--but if you're not among either of those groups, your options will swiftly narrow. Supposedly, crime doesn't pay--but when times are tough and measures are desperate? It can, at least, eat.

Leith: Society Declining

Leith is no longer the quiet, idyllic place it used to be. Between the disease that ravaged the planet and the uprisings after, Leith has been struggling far more than it’s used to. Perhaps that’s part of the reason the effects of tragedy are felt so acutely. The people of Leith have always enjoyed a relatively quiet, comfortable lifestyle compared to the unruly chaos of Westerley or the vicious politics of Qresh. Yet as the food supply sustaining the moon starts to dip lower than it should, Leith starts to share more in common with Westerley than Qresh. If you’re not someone of means, then you’ll find food both more expensive and in much shorter supply than you’re used to. And for the lowest classes of Leith, you may go hungry entirely. This kind of strife isn’t unprecedented for Leith, but it’s been a long time since they’ve ever struggled so. That’s why the Company is here, at least on paper. As the situation on Leith grows more tense, many Enforcers that are usually stationed on Westerley are likely to find themselves on Leith instead. It’s not quite as vicious or violent of crime as they may be used to, but the less food there is, the more that changes. The Bazaar was once a place for peaceful trading on lazy afternoons, but now the tension around food stalls is especially thick. If you’re a merchant, you have to balance the scales quite delicately. Some take the opportunity to sell to the rich and make a hefty profit, but others decide to keep their prices the same, maybe even lowering them, at the risk of going hungry themselves. It’s easy for violent fights to break out over something as simple as grain, and as stores grow lower, it’s becoming more common to see someone badly injured over it. If you’re in the higher society of Leith, you probably don’t have to worry, though. This is exactly why you have your influence and fortune, and while the well-off of Leith generally know better than to flaunt that, very little changes other than being a little more protective of just who comes onto their property. The desperate are looking to scavenge what they can, so the greedier landowners are likely to make sure their crops are protected. Side work to protect land has become quite popular as a result, so if you’re looking for some extra work and don’t mind camping, then there’s a Leithian happy to hire you. Just be careful as you camp out in the remote forests of Leithian land. Rumor has it that there are Resistance groups residing hidden in those woods, and they’ll very viciously defend the gatherings they’ve kept clandestine. Of course, if you’re more generous, you can always share and give what you have. While humanitarian efforts continue to decrease as everyone’s purse-strings tighten, they’re not gone completely. Philanthropic efforts to feed the hungry are still in vogue, so if you’re of a good heart or simply a politically shrewd one, there’s no better time to give back. Just be careful how your altruism is presented. It doesn’t take much for the grateful to instead decide that the offer is just condescending.

Resistance: Concerted Efforts

Now that the teams have had time to acclimate to working with one another, it's time to set deeper laid plans in motion. Thus far, all of the tasks and missions provided to the individual cells have seemed, in large part, to not be related - at least, probably not from the view within said cells. For the one(s) pulling the strings from the shadows, however, there has always been a method to this madness. Materials and supplies purloined by the individual groups and turned over to their benefactor have been broken down to the basest components, sectioned off, and set aside for each of the four teams with the utmost thought and care. Nearly everything needed to complete this next wave of tasks will be provided, though some may need to use their creative genius to acquire additional, outside resources - be they additional parts and supplies, or humans with the know-how to help them finish the task. The methods and means with which each team reaches their respective goal is entirely up to them - as well as how they dispose of any witnesses (NPCs) or silence them (PCs). The situation may seem bleak for the PCs involved, but there are chances to fight back. From resisting the cell's requests to tinkering with the machinery, those with more technical skills may be able to gain something from their unfortunate fate. As made obvious by their kidnapping, the cells holding them hostage do not possess the skills to build, much less monitor or examine, the required components. Planting a tracking device, a data mining program, or any other such implement that does not transfer control is feasible for those with the know-how. Better installed systems might go unnoticed, but even the more shoddy of attempts may be accepted by Hyperion, should they seem useful. Unlike previous missions... this one has a specific time-table, and each team is building vital components to the most lethal of weapons, and Hyperion will not suffer negligence on their part with kindness. This month's tasks come with a warning, at least: ramifications of a failed mission will result in an immediate, and individualized, reprimand. It's important to note, as well, that while the cells were formed independently in order to protect their anonymity... they were never actually forbidden from reaching out to others within their covert world. If members of one cell can make contact with another, well. It may just provide them the opportunity to begin to piece together just what end-game Hyperion is really playing at.

The RAC: Double Blind

The higher-ups within the organization were dismayed that they have no new Level 5's to show for their efforts, and are concerned that this shows a declining loyalty to their purpose. Expect that each mission will be given a thorough review by Internal Affairs once completed, even as that same department quietly begins to asses the individual agents. Now is the time for them to turn their focus in, once more, to see which of their field agents have begun to exhibit a faltering neutrality. An especially important task, given that the RAC's own neutrality has been questioned more and more as of late. Between the increased presence of Killjoys in support of Company missions and their increased demand to bolster Qreshi personal security, it seems they've been slowly commandeered by the whims of the Nine. And this does not necessarily sit well with many of the agents in the fields, or the sources of warrants that normally come from outside the Quad. In order to curtail this growing dissent both within the organization and throughout their client-base, they've begun fielding their warrant to display a more balanced pool of jobs. Even if, in doing so, they suspect that they are playing both sides of an impending war. Because while some agents are set to guard Scarbacks in the face of growing censure, others are set to either help Land Hyponia's attempts at subverting Land Kendry's growing rule or protect the scions of the most formidable houses - and still others are given tasks that further the cause lead by that nebulous entity called 'Hyperion', though this last they cannot confirm with confidence. The warrant is all.

Comments

Badou - Westerley - W9D4

[ofobedience]

[Within the many-headed beast that is the Company, something has begun to stir. He knows this much, silent and watchful as he tends to be-- the decrease in Enforcer presence out on the streets hasn't escaped his attention, hasn't bypassed him, but more than that is the jitter and thrum of subtle activity within the Kennel itself. Spaces that had previously been occupied by equipment or offices have been hollowed out, laid bare, and there's a tension in the air, a sense of impending change, that he can't shake loose of. It gets into his bones, gets into all of their bones - the Dogs - and whilst he's accustomed to keeping his mouth shut and not asking questions, follows orders with blind obedience, this time it bothers him. Leaves him sparking and unsettled.

He never has coped well with the concept of radical change.

Eventually he begins to carefully probe for answers, ask subtle questions, but he gets nothing from his Handlers besides commands to keep quiet and do as he's told and as such he decides to take matters into his own hands. Which is what he's doing out here in Old Town tonight, having encouraged his Handler to shirk his responsibilities at the bottom of a bottle whilst he prowls the grimy streets alone. Prowling with purpose, as it happens, looking for a certain someone.

He's concealed by the overhanging shadows of a dingy side-alley when Badou strolls past, poised and waiting, hand mercury-quick as it darts out to grasp the long swing of his bright orange ponytail, yanks hard until he's dragged into the darkness along with him. The man will find himself pressed up against the slipperyslick stone of the alley wall, Giovanni leaning in close, pinning him there with a palm pressed flat to his chest and a dagger-sharp smile.]

I've been looking for you.

[brokeassgoing]

[Badou's got to stop minding his own goddamn business because this is exactly how he gets himself into these kinds of problems. Always!

He doesn't even have the chance to scream, scalp aching and back hitting the wall, Giovanni's breath in his face where he looks at him with those buggy glasses.]

That's funny, I've been hopin' to never fuckin' see you again. Take it this ain't a social call.

[ofobedience]

What a pity for you.

[And he laughs, the sound of it dry and cracked like the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. He stays where he is, uncomfortably close, keeps the taller man pinned there against the cool brick with a sickening kind of ease.]

But no. It isn't a social call. I believe you deal in information, correct?

[Which...might be a surprising question considering how their other interactions have gone so far, but there it is.]

[brokeassgoing]

[well ain't that a chilling sound. Nothing as dramatic as death curling its fingers around your shoulders but.

Jaw held tight, he tips his head.]

Depends on a few things.

[ofobedience]

[One hand still tangled in his hair, the other palm-flat against his chest, Giovanni's grip tightens. A subtle thing, but sure. Immovable.]

Such as?

[The tone of his voice, it's almost a warning.]

[brokeassgoing]

Whether or not you're gonna stop poking me with that little gun in your pants, for starters.

[he's Tough, he's Hardboiled, he's NOT intimidated.......


he's Sweating though]

[ofobedience]

[The sad fact is that he's so unaccustomed to having innuendo leveled at him that the 'joke' goes over his head, only causes a fractional tightening of his brow, a moment of almost-discernible confusion because both pistols are holstered at his thighs and are not in his pants at all. But the moment passes, and the hand still tangled in his hair yanks back almost hard enough to rip the bright orange strands from Badou's head. almost. The other hand presses in, harder, hardest, to the point where the bones of his sternum threaten complaint.]

It's funny that you think you're in any position to make demands.

[brokeassgoing]

[Badou whimpers, neck strained and heart threatening to suckerpunch Giovanni in the chin at this rate. This alley smells like shit and his Fate right now isn't helping that stench either. He'll complain alright:]

GET THOSE FUCKING GIRAFFE HOOFS OFFA MEEEEEE! NOBODY SAID YOU WERE INVITED TO ANYTHING AROUND HERE!

[wibbling, tears spring to his eye]

You won't get jack dick if you keep that up!

[ofobedience]

[Really now, this is just embarrassing. The whimpered sounds, the loud protests, the faltering movement of the lower lip and the suspiciously aqueous look of the redhead's one good eye-- he'll never comprehend why Heine chooses to associate with this individual, and melodramatically, Giovanni sighs. Loosens his grip just enough to lessen the onrush of pain. He's still uncomfortably close, still unyielding, though at least Badou is no longer in immediate danger of breakage.]

Oh, come on now, this is beginning to get a little dull. Let me put it another way-- you give me what I want, and I won't tear out your throat with my teeth and then leave you to drown in your own blood in this stinking alleyway. How does that sound?

[A smile like broken glass.]

I think it rather generous, myself.

[brokeassgoing]

[oh its an incredibly reasonable deal, for sure! Especially seeing as Badou has no choice at all. He swallows hard, quiet for too long to let the roar of his blood echo in his head.]

You should be a Saint, you're so generous and good. What the fuck do you want.

[ofobedience]

And yet here I am, content to be a Dog. Hahah.

[But that's better-- cooperation is preferable to the act of killing, just this once. Almost indiscernibly, his expression tightens. Blink and you'll miss it, the crooked smile never faltering.]

Something's happening here, something's coming. There a less Enforcers around by the day, and--

[Almost, he mentions the Kennel, the influx of activity there, the sense of oncoming change. But this man, he doesn't need to know about that. Instead, he shrugs.]

I want to know what the Company are planning. What to expect.

[No one tells him anything.]

[brokeassgoing]

[So he's noticed it too, that's not the surprise. The surprise is that Giovanni cares, that he's curious. Not quite the obedient little dog, happy to wag his tail, huh. At least that's more interesting.

Far more dangerous too. He tips his head, considering.]

I may be an info broker but that doesn't mean I'm in the back sticking my fingers in the Company's ass. I expect it's something big, though.

[ofobedience]

[He's not wrong. There is some measure of surprise in such a thing, even for Giovanni himself. It's not like him to question the actions of his superiors. He tends to accept his orders with unfailing obedience, will go where they tell him and kill who they tell him like the loyal dog he was created to be, but this-- it's got into him somehow. Unsettles him. He'd like to know, just this once, what they intend to do with him. What they intend to do with Westerley.

He's tried asking his Handlers of course, but they've never been especially forthcoming outside of expected orders and as such had only bade him be silent there's a good dog, and so he'd obeyed as always, but hadn't been able to let it rest. So here he is. Asking questions. Undertaking independent action.

A dangerous thing, indeed.

Slowly, he lifts a brow, and though he doesn't increase the strength of his hold this time, his voice contains hidden daggers.]

I'll need you to do better than that.

[brokeassgoing]

[A little more insistent, a little more nervous--]

I told you, I don't know! It could be from anywhere between finding Westerley a threat and bombing us to making us our own country, independent. Though I roughly doubt that one. Everyone's lips are as tight as your asshole right now.

[he's really pushing it]

[ofobedience]

[Look, will you stop talking about his body parts? It's getting a little weird :{

He seems unfazed though, entirely unmoved, and when he responds it's with that same slick voice, low and slippery-smooth.]

Then find out. That's what you do, isn't it? Digging around in other people's dirt.

[brokeassgoing]

[the devil probably had a voice like that when he enticed Eve

Badou fights back a visible shudder.]

I'm doing the best I can here. Cut me some slack, I don't got a magical bowl cut like some people.

[ofobedience]

[Oh, okay, he gets this one. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Badou isn't the first person to comment on his hair. His expression doesn't change, but his grasp on the information broker's ginger locks tightens by way of response. Twists.]

Twenty-four hours. You'll have something for me, by then.

[It isn't a question.]

[brokeassgoing]

[Badou bellows in Giovanni's ear, trying to twist out of his grip and failing]

That's NOT ENOUGH TIME! EVEN GOD TOOK SEVEN DAYS TO DO STUFF!

[ofobedience]

[That noise-- it'd be enough to cut through anyone at such point blank range, never mind an enhanced life form such as the one holding Badou in his inimical grip, and as such his face hardens, sharpens, has him yanking Badou briefly away from the wall only to slam him back into it with enough force to rattle bone. His expression this time, it's full of sharp edges, all sign of wry amusement gone.]

Twenty-four hours.

[brokeassgoing]

[he barely manages to stifle another scream of dismay, and his knees begin to shake. There's no disputing that Giovanni means it...Badou just hoped he could've extended his time.]

RIGHT!! RIGHT, TWENTY-FOUR! THAT'S A GREAT NUMBER, REAL FRESH AND ALL!

[ofobedience]

That's better.

[There's a moment's pause, and then he lifts the hand pressed against the other man's chest, though he keeps the other buried in Badou's hair, not easing up, giving no options for escape.]

Give me your PDD.

[brokeassgoing]

[this better not result in any holes in Badou's scalp...he doesn't need any more of those.

He begins to reach for it, then pauses]

Isn't this supposed to be the part where you tell me you'll find me and just, assume you're watching me the entire time?

[ofobedience]

Really, now. I have better things to be doing with my time than watching you every moment of the day.

[You know, duty and responsibility and all that jazz. He has surprisingly little time to himself, isn't really supposed to be wandering off on his own at all, but hey ho. He does, at the very least, follow it up with--]

Although rest assured, if I don't hear from you within the specified time frame I will find you, and the fun we'll have then...it won't be painless. It won't be quick.

[brokeassgoing]

[that's the most assuring thing he's said the entirety of their acquaintanceship. how comforting.

gulping loudly, he hands over the device]

Like my own guardian angel, I'll sleep well tonight.