Chapter 2

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 2, Day 5 - Week 4, Day 6
Summary: Chapter 2 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
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Poisoned Well

With the heir delivered and Lady Derrish returning to health, balance has been maintained amongst the Nine. Swift and efficient - and, some would say, unbelievable - medical attention administered may have steadied the Lady's life, but for those in the ruling houses, the atmosphere of tenuous peace only grows thicker. Land Kendry has launched an investigation - with particular focus on Land Hyponia - into the source of the 'attack' on Lady Derrish's health. Of course, that is only the surface, and some suggest, with hushed voices, that there may be more to Land Kendry's goals than to weed out an assailant. Land Hyponia has long since been in support of maintaining the Seventh Generation Accords, which it defends staunchly against any opposition. One of the most agitated among those in disagreement with the Accords is Land Kendry. Now is the perfect opportunity for them to rearrange the pieces in their favor, and with the information they've fabricated, they'll be able to replace the head of Land Hyponia with someone who is - at least hopefully - more pliable to their agenda. The Derrish have their own suspicions, the cure surfacing all too conveniently timed to have been a coincidence. When Land Kendry's investigation procures evidence pointing to Land Hyponia as the culprits, inflaming the crime with implied - yet vague - ties to the resistance, the Derrish publically accept the accusation. Behind closed doors, the solution seemed to have come as uncannily easily as the cure, and suspicions only rise. But for now, the two houses remain allied - ready to use one another for their own interests. For those among the nobility, it's the time to reevaluate alliances, assuring the old and gathering the new. The more support you have, the safer you are - unless, of course, you chose the wrong friend. Some turn to other members of the nobility, some to the RAC for hired guards, some to the Company to mandate investigations unsuitable for Killjoys, and some may even turn to the underbelly of society to accomplish anything necessary to stay on top. Or to simply stay alive.

The Company: Cleaning House

There will be no accolades, and no rest, for the hard working Company officials following the response to the True Leithan attacks. Assignments shift from one thing to the next, moving from bureaucratic nightmare to bureaucratic nightmare. While there’s always busy work to distract from the intrigue behind the scenes, it’s not liable to be any safer. Some officials will be charged with maintaining peace and order on Leith, as the outbreak of a pandemic slowly spreads over the moon. From helping the afflicted find their way to a place of treatment, to safe and efficient body disposal—burning corpses by the hundreds—to attempting to track down the source of the virus, it's best anyone assigned here take heed ‘lest they find themselves falling ill as well. Westerley, on the other hand, is a different kind of headache. With Harvest Week in swing, most company officials will be reaching for a drink of their own at the end of their shifts. Rowdy workers celebrating their time off, spending their hard earned Joy frivolously, and citizens whisked away by the atmosphere of celebration all mingle throughout Old Town. Property damage, fighting, less than subtle illegal activity, and crowding all become more of an issue than they usually are during this time. It's the perfect setting to lay down the law, or to not be noticed by it. On top of it all, each and every member of the Company's workforce can expect to have their documents double and triple-checked. Those with any suspected ties to Leith are likely to undergo a more serious investigation. One-on-one interrogations become common practice, and whether you're trusted or suspect, you may come face to face with a companion in your duties. True Leithan sympathizers are what the Company review is after, but anything else unturned will surely not be ignored. Cover your bases.

Westies: Harvest Week

Harvest week is in full swing throughout Westerley - visa workers have been shuttled back in droves from their time on Leithian farms, many of whom were willing to take some of their observations to information brokers for a price. Most had superficial information to sell (the state of unease on the average farm due to the impending Accords, the increased suspicion that the migrant workers were forced to endure, the fear of retaliation by the rebellion for the True Leithian attacks), others with reports of increased security and weapons caches on the farms of those whose sympathies lie with the “heroes” of the attack in Old Town. Old Town, however, is even more of a chaotic mesh of humanity with the mass influx of returning bodies. Bars stay busy day and night, the hokk and ale flow almost faster than most can keep up, and many Enforcers and Killjoys alike can make a good bit of extra joy (or free drinks) by moonlighting as security at the more popular locations. Despite all of the fun to be had, there is still the undercurrent of unrest, because Company checks have increased even more and Intake has become a revolving door of petty criminals being held for the smallest infractions. Everyone is on edge as the Resistance grumbles and the Nine search the shadows for something or perhaps someone. The unrest only worsens once Leith is placed under quarantine. And through it all, criminal activity is on the rise. Somehow, despite the strict regulation and transport of migrant workers, there is an increased access to Jakk and Bliss. Norn has an ever growing market, and weapons dealers are in high demand both in Eulogy and by private buyers alike. Something is brewing beneath the revelry, and no one wants to be caught unable to defend themselves, it seems. Not that any amount of firepower can defend against disease when P43X shows up on W3D7--but it can certainly make the symptoms worse.

True Leithians: Second Stage

Wounded and pressed to a corner, the beast rears its head and bares a maw of teeth and ruthless pursuit. The True Leithian organization does not take pause to mend wounds left in the wake of last week’s retaliation, no. They do not seek the comfort of safe haven and recovery. Instead they turn their anger and fear inward, sacrificing their own for what they believe to be the greater good. On Week 2, Day 6, three individuals slip into the crowds of Leith, mingling with the revelers and the families celebrating Harvest Week. They share smiles and laughter, they share conversation and drinks, but most importantly, they share infection. Each of the three is responsible for disseminating P43X, a viral bioweapon designed by Zan Nikora on behalf of the military in years past. During its conception, the aim of P43X was simple: to create a weapon which could demoralize and destabilize an entire population within a matter of days. To create madness that builds in the blood and eats into the brain, spreading through every tier of society. And though its use has long been out of commission, its engineer has lingered. Zan Nikora, kidnapped and held under threat of death not to himself but to those he holds dearest, is made to choose between the lives of his family on Westerley or the strangers on Leith. His choice is obvious, though far from easy. Reassembling the buried curse takes time, supplies, and testing. He is provided amply with the last two but scarcely with the first. But still he complies. When his madness maker is complete and his existence becomes a potential loose end, it’s not freedom that Zan Nikora tastes, but the poison of his own medicine. Only once the voices in his head have risen above whispers and turned to screams, when his mind can no longer hold secrets worth sharing, does he see his family again. It takes six days*. Six days and Zan Nikora stumbles through Old Town, eyes unseeing, mind riddled with disease—infection spreading. Mod Note: *W3D6. Cure and vaccines will be developed and disseminated beginning on W4D3, but will not be fully administered to all locations until W4D5.

Leith: Pocket Posies

Harvest Week in Leith marks a period of joy and relief. Bazaars are open longer, the ordinary bustle of the business day replaced with celebration and festivities throughout the evening hours. Vendors offer games for adults and children alike, the sky is a constant wash of soft pinks, purples, and greens from holographic firework shows, and music fills the air from different stages. All walks of life are welcome to join in the merriment, just so long as they have the right to be there. Anyone suspected of an invalid visa or citizenship papers are dealt with harshly, but quietly. Tucked away into the darkness of a holding cell like all of Leith’s more problematic elements. It is a time of peace and relief, this week, and they will not abide disruption. But within the hallowed days of celebration, a sickness grows, incubating. Spreading. First, it begins with an ache deep within the muscles. The body tires too quickly, the flesh burns with a blanket of rising fever. Whispers skirt at the edge of hearing, unintelligible but audible, filling the audio cortex with illusions and lies. Food loses its appeal, though the body yearns dearly for energy it cannot hold, and breathing becomes tighter, harder. Next the tide of high fevers, of lethargy. The brain devolves into paranoia and mania, the mind races with delusions and hallucinations. Pain follows, a pain that seems to emanate from every nerve without relief or pause, seeping through the muscles and aching within the very bones of a person. Some may wish for death, and for many, that wish will be granted in an unending sleep when the fatigue pulls darkness across the mind, plunges the last thoughts of a person into static slumber. But not all will succumb so readily, and therein is the weakness that ultimately shelved P43X during its initial creation. Its impacts are not uniform—while much of the population suffers dearly, most are sustained with timely medical interventions, and many others recover with the prowess of their own immune system. For Leith, bountiful in money and supplies, most of P43X’s more fatal properties are circumvented or delayed. But even in this lush world of affluence and peace, there are the poor, the underprivileged, and the weak. They are not afforded the same haste of care, the same salvation. Instead, they’re given graves of sanitizing fires, and their bodies turn to ash.

Resistance: Sleeping Dogs

The chaos of the festivities that go along with Harvest Week provides the perfect cover for the Resistance to begin moving once again. New cells need to be formed in the wake of so many executions and new members need to be recruited. Info brokers with Resistance-leaning sympathies have an opportunity to make a little extra joy by putting the disconnected sympathizers in contact with one another, aiding the vetting of Company insiders that need new handlers within the organization. For Resistance members already embedded within, they need to work now to find new locations to store what supplies remain and to begin rebuilding the stockpiles of weapons and supplies re-confiscated by the Company. Some may have heard of abandoned mines or facilities that can be retrofitted out in the Badlands while others are needed to track down rumors of Company made fallout shelters located within the under-city tunnels. For this, Company moles are essential - the only hope of accessing these shelters is with long forgotten Company passcodes. And the Scarbacks, well. Everyone’s heard rumors that there are many within their ranks willing to help with recruitment and contraband transportation, though there’s little the Company can do to restrict their movements at this time. Because of this, Scarbacks may also be the only ones that have a chance of getting into Leith once the quarantines go into effect. Those already aligned with the rebellion will be tasked with coordinating supply movements, making a deal or three with the devil on behalf of those unwilling to back down from the promises of the Accords. Caution and purpose should drive their movements because if the True Leithian attack is any indication… those nationalists are not going to let go of their precious land and status without a long, bloody fight.

The RAC: Holding Pattern

Warrants still flow in with a regular consistency - enough to keep the average team or agent quite busy. Every harvest season there are visa jumpers that need to be caught and low-level warrants claiming petty theft from farms by Westie migrants. The increasing number of disturbances and crimes in Old Town guarantee a plethora of local warrants to capture criminals across the moon or those that managed to escape an Enforcer’s arrest. Some, however, have either been requested by Seyah Kendry herself or volentold by their seniors within the RAC to conduct investigations into the attack on the Nine. And not all of these investigations are on the Lady’s behest. Some of the Nine aren’t quite willing to take Land Kendry’s word as law and have quietly requested their own investigations into the attack in Old Town and the Land Derrish misfortunes. (MOD NOTE: There will be a comment thread for teams to sign up for the specialized plot related warrants on the monthly warrant post, located HERE. Once teams have posted for a plot warrant, the mods will give them a location and focused assignment.)

Comments

ota & closed prompts; various

[homonka]

[ Just nesting my top levels under here so I can stay organized! ]

OTA Company People | Various Dates

[homonka]

[ In a word, the room is sterile. The air carries the faint remnants of antiseptic, every surface within matte and cleaned within an inch of its proverbial life. The walls are white, unadorned save for the sliver of a shadow cast by the woman sitting in the center.

Back straight and eyes focused, Sui Feng taps across the glassy surface of the table before her, summoning the embedded touchscreen to life.

Files scroll quickly with the dance of her petite digits, names and faces passing by in fractions of a second.

"Your next appointment has arrived, ma'am," an artificial voice chimes softly in her ear, tone lightly colored with a falsely imposed Leithian accent. A unnecessary trait, Sui Feng thinks, but user interface is outside of her division.

As most things are, actually. Sui Feng's division is particular. Limited in scope but drastic in impact. As such, she is not an ideal interrogator. She will not persevere to see the best in people, she will not offer the benefit of the doubt.

That is not her function. That is not her skill set.

Perhaps you're already familiar with her work prior to entering the interrogation chamber, her reputation as the ninth generation in a long line of Company executioners. Maybe you've even had the misfortune of working alongside the icy Qreshi in missions past.

But more than likely, this is your first time meeting the intelligence officer, and should you be very lucky, it'll also be the last.

Another rap of her fingertips, calling forward the next file. Yours. ]

Send them in.

slides in

[tousei]

[ In what is perhaps a contrast to the many other people Sui Feng will see over the course of this period, her next subject exhibits a distinct lack of fear. He walks a little faster than average, his Company uniform neatly pressed without a single thing out of place. As per the interrogation process, he's clearly unarmed; however the thick armlet on his right hand might warrant at least a moment of attention.

He takes his seat with only a single slow blink, grey eyes focused on her as if he was at attention (which he is). ]

W3D1

[homonka]

Visconti.

[ Flat, like she's identifying a glossary term rather than a person. Gray gaze meets gray gaze for a moment, assessing, scrutinizing. Her focus lingers on his wrist for a second, but nothing in her otherwise blank expression changes.

Sui Feng lifts a hand to motion him down, looking through his file. ]

At ease.

[tousei]

[ Her blank expression is returned in kind; though it's more out of indifference and compliance on his part. Work was work, and he had done absolutely nothing out of line. This she too would know while glancing through his files: a perfect track record starting from age fifteen, without as much as a single transgression or failure.

Even if she would also recognize that for most of those five years he served a woman who has since been redacted from existence.

Her order is followed, and tension drains from his stance - but not completely. He sits as if a coiled spring, kept under control but ready to release at a moment's notice. ]

[homonka]

[ A record of following orders, yes. But a decidedly less stellar history of staying within divisions.

A plus or a minus in her line of work, that tendency to push others away. A commander should always keep her troops tense and uncomfortable with her--to allow them to fall into complacency was to fail them as a leader. Adversity breeds competition, competition breeds better soldiers.

But in the matter of breeding, Julius seems to need minimal adjustment there. ]

You seem to have trouble being liked, Visconti. [ No heat behind it, no cutting edge. Just fact. The young man seems to stay in divisions about as long as others stay in her good graces. ] Are you incapable of building camaraderie with your coworkers or just disinterested?

[tousei]

[ It's a question that would have been asked sooner or later, that he's aware. The answer comes easily enough, though accompanied by several memories that latch onto it as frost to glass in the dead of winter.

"My sweet Julius, you must not allow anyone to distract you from your mission. Playing around makes a person useless, remember that."

And then she died. Since then, he was labeled as cursed. Not that he particularly minded, not until that one night, rain falling in torrents from the dark sky, a single body on the bloodstained street. ]

The mission must always be of highest priority. I cannot deviate from that.

[ This he says with only a slight blink to cover up the thoughts running through his mind. ]

[rhygret]

[ It's not his first time meeting Sui Feng, unfortunately, and Rhys isn't sure that if it were that he'd feel any better. This entire process is awful and he really doesn't see why he has to be here of all people. His division hardly has anything to do with anything? Rhys has no illusions about the "importance" of being Senior Vice-President of Westerlyn Resource Acquisition & Management Inquiries. It's a fancy title that amounts to a whole lot of nothing and is really just there to help him get over his new "fad" of working.

Jokes on you mom and dad, he's doing this. And he's doing it will except fro the whole...Resistance-mole thing. Which he's really hoping has nothing to do with his being called in here because if it does he's seen Sui Feng in action and he'd prefer the acid rain death on Westerly, thank you very much.

So...yeah. He's understandably on edge as he's shown into the room even if he tries to put on a mask of annoyance (which is only a partial mask, Rhys is pretty annoyed he has to be here at all), arms crossed over his chest. ]

Sooo....is there a reason I need to be here, exactly? Because I have plans for some R&R in an hour and I'd really hate to keep my manicurist waiting. [ He's going to pull out Offended Richboy from the get-go: the Kendry default. ]

[homonka]

[ In another avenue, she would make a show of bowing and deferential posture. She would weather his complaints with perfect patience and a desire to serve.

But that avenue has long since passed, and in this arena, he is subordinate to the Lady's order. Kendry or not, he's a Company employee, and just as liable to meet the end of her blade as anyone else.

Perhaps even more likely, really. His transgressions, if any, have the potential to spell political ruin for his honorable house.

So for his annoyance, he meets only the impassive lift of her head, voice calm and commanding. ]

Please take a seat.

[ But she has no interest in power play dynamics, so though she commands, it's done with the same air of threatening promise as she would anyone else. When they're outside of this room, Rhys is lord. But within it? ]

You are a Company employee and expected to comply with regulations. Should you have any complaint about this, I will be happy to connect you with Delle Seyah Kendry once the interview is complete.

[rhygret]

Hah, like we don't both know my position in this place is a joke. [ Rhys crosses his arms petulantly, but the threat of Delle has him sitting down in compliance regardless. She might not deal with him or his parents often, but there's no end to the tales of her ruthlessness. He's seen her in action through school enough to know he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of her irritation.

That's a little much of the family politics for his liking. ]

Can you hurry this up? I have an appointment. [ For nothing at all that's important, but really he's just hoping they do get through this quickly so he can leave ans finish having a miniature heart attack. ]

[homonka]

No.

[ Simple, emotionless. Sui Feng's value in social order is without match, and at the moment, the order does not elevate him above the law.

No one is above it; all must comply. Rhys as well as her once-master--they will answer for their crimes and face the same scrutiny, if not more, because of their privilege.

Her gaze flashes with a spike of irritation as it rises and settles on him. As with each interview, she starts in the most logical place. The beginning. ]

Explain why you chose to work here. Joke or not, it's of your own volition. Some might find that odd, given that you don't need to work to support yourself.

[rhygret]

Ohhh my god. [ Rhys pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, unable to believe that this is his life now and oh gods oh gods he'd better not fuck this up. ] If this is another one of my parents' dumb little ploys to get me to drop all this and come home, it isn't going to work alright? I'm here because I'm going to make a name for myself.

Just. Y'know. As soon as anyone actually lets me do anything important. Because newsflash: my job sucks. A paperweight could do my job. But yeah. Making a name for myself, one that hopefully one day isn't "paperweight." How's that? Can I go now?

[ Aren't you glad to be related to this tittybaby Sui Feng? ]

[refactor]

[ Sui Fend would definitely be forgiven if this was the interview she was looking forward to the least. Handsome Jack was a character to put it very politely, and he was especially colorful for a company man. He was colorful enough that if not for his competence and skill, he probably would have met Sui Feng under different circumstances. He wasn't disloyal (in fact, the opposite), but his methods were often eccentric. Which was also putting it lightly.

Yet even so, it fits the man. Rather than nervousness that most people would feel at being called to meet Sui Feng, he steps into the room with confidence and a smooth smile. Maybe not as smooth as he would personally like, because, well. Truth be told, the times they'd brushed elbows in the past had always left Jack excited for the next time he'd see her. It's kind of weird, considering most of their interactions tended to be Jack being obnoxious while Sui Feng threatened to kill him, but. He had a type. So he has a little crush, sue him. ]

Heyyy, long time no see, Sui Feng.

[ At least she's free from one of Jack's quirks, and that's his obnoxious nicknames... He takes a seat, though it's more like sprawling across it casually. ]

Y'know, if you wanted to catch up, you can just call. Text. Whatever, you get my point here.

[ ...Though the trade off is that he's going to flirt. Badly. ]

[homonka]

[ In a less formal circumstance, she might meet his cavalier attitude with a sneer or rolled eyes, but as is, she simply lifts her head, gaze tracking him like a predatory cat as he enters the room.

Not seeing the man, the smile, but the target she hasn't yet been ordered to strike.

(But has quite often fantasized about killing nonetheless. She has a murder crush, it's similar?) ]

The only thing I intend to catch today is a traitor, Mr. Martel.

[ Regarding his improper position with a faint curl of her lip, she turns her attention back to the digital screen below her hands, scrolling through a series of his most recent intake reports. As much as she considers the prospect of cutting his tongue out appealing, she doubts she'll find anything worth recommending his termination.

He may be irritating, but he's good at his job. Dedicated. Just conniving enough to fit into the political niche of Company work without making too many enemies in the process.

Pity. ]

Explain the circumstances by which you came to work for The Company. I see that you requested your assignment voluntarily.

[refactor]

[ She's always chilly, and that's never a problem for Jack. The other party may not exactly share the sentiment, but he always likes people with temperaments that run cooler. In his head, it makes it all the more satisfying when they recognize him for his greatness, but in practice, it's more like that just gives him plenty of opportunity to talk. He likes the sound of his own voice, and he's a natural conversationalist. ]

Eh, fair enough. But, I mean, still, after, if you want, I can totally—

[ He starts on that course of conversation with a grin, but he stops rather abruptly at her question. His smile drops into a frown that's displeased, but softly so. Jack reaches up to rub the back of his neck, then sits back as he crosses his arms. ]

...Can I ask why you wanna know about that?

[homonka]

It's a standard question, Mr. Martel.

[ And it is -- when sussing out traitors from your ranks, it's often best to start at the beginning of their association with the organization. Jack had been particularly involved in the pursuit of the True Leithians--too involved, some might say.

Willingness to do what is necessary is not, in her mind, a trait worthy of suspicion, but pausing over a question like that?

It's an interesting reaction. Not necessarily a condemning one, but interesting. Decidedly more human than most of her interactions with him have been. Oh, he's plenty personable, but he's never truly personal.

It takes every ounce of professionalism not to smirk and show overt delight at this potential thread of weakness. But she manages, face still stoic, mouth unchanged from its thin line of disregard. ]

I appreciate that this might be difficult for you to answer, but you'll need to do so nonetheless.

[refactor]

[ Jack stares back at her for a few moments in a silence that feels uncharacteristic for him. Considering how it's hard to get Jack to ever stop talking, his silences end up being unintentionally more poignant. His expression isn't quite hardened, but it's clear that it's an uncomfortable subject for him.

The pause comes because he's weighing his options here. It's not the first time someone's asked, but it's something that Jack can usually dance his way around. He has a silver tongue, and while he doesn't always use that skill intentionally, when it comes to difficult subjects that he doesn't want to talk about, he'll use it shamelessly. But usually, the people asking aren't from intelligence. He could even manage to dance around the subject with superiors, but this was a different ballgame entirely.

He realizes that if he's not forthcoming here, a misunderstanding could send him through his own facility. So he sighs, and shrugs dismissively. ]

Long story short, mom and dad skimped out on their loyalty, dumped me with grandma. Grandma wanted me to become a Scarback, and she was really big on discipline. Forget to wash the dishes, get a buzzsaw to the back, forget to make the bed, she drowns my cat. That kind of thing. So I started working for the Company as soon as I could. Just wanted to move out.

[ As he explains, Jack's voice isn't quite detached, but it's not emotional. His issues with his family are ones that he feels are fairly old, so he can relay that with a coolness that makes it almost sound like it happened to someone else. But he knows that's not the same for the rest of the story, and so that part he tries to weasel out of. He hates grandma. That's simple. But getting into why he wanted a transfer isn't. ]

That good enough?

[eggplanting]

[This wasn't the best news to wake up to, being questioned by a woman who she's only heard whispers about, but she's hoping it just has to do with the fact that her father was Leithian. Everyone's saying they're after whoever leaked information to the True Leithians, and that, at least, is something Steph knows for sure.

She didn't do it.

So she has nothing to worry about, right?

When she's sent into the room with Sui Feng, Steph looks mostly calm, with only an edge of nerves that she figures would make sense for anyone, since surely Sui Feng knows about her reputation.]

Ma'am.

[She wasn't sure if "Ms. Feng" would be right, so something more neutral seemed safer, and she even adds a respectful bow of her head, nothing over the top, she's just... being careful.]

[homonka]

[ A deferential tongue goes a long way with this one.

Not that she shows any form of approval beyond a curt nod of her head, gaze flicking up to observe the girl at the doorway.

Sui Feng lifts a hand, indicating the seat across from her. ]

Sit, Ms. Brown.

[eggplanting]

[Steph takes a seat without hesitation, sitting up straight but comfortably, as if she's just someone with good posture, and her hands are folded neatly in her lap. Being still isn't something she excels at, but she doesn't want to fidget right now.]

How can I be of assistance?

[The answer is obvious, but she wants to come across as willing to help. She even smiles, just a small one, but enough to make her seem like maybe she's just a little bit naive.]

[homonka]

[ (Un)fortunately, Sui Feng defaults to assuming most people she speaks to will be found wanting in the intelligence department. But a cooperative attitude is well-received, almost summons something close to a small smile out of her.

(That, or the lighting flickered enough to give the impression of her lips twitching.)

Scrolling over the file on the embedded computer screen, Sui Feng begins, voice perfectly neutral for the moment: ]

It says you're a freight pilot. What precisely does that job entail, Ms. Brown?

[mayora13]

[Those who saw the best in people, who were willing or even eager to offer the benefit of the doubt or their hands in aid rather than the cold metal of cuffs, were the worst interrogators, in Hijikata's opinion. He'd been on the opposite side of this procedure himself, though not when dealing with something so...

on the record.

His sessions always brought him face to face with snarling criminals, their expressions already distorted by bruised and broken faces. When information was vital - or more commonly, respect for human decency wasn't - he'd pry from them whatever was necessary.

Truth or lies. Whatever the Company wanted to hear.

His outcome had already been decided, and only the most drastic of actions would change it. Which he'd endeavor, if necessary, but first he needed to find out how the Company leaned.

When he stepped into the room to see Sui Feng sitting across the table, his posture remained straight, professional, as he took a seat. Hijikata was among the few who had the displeasure of working with the woman before, but that didn't make his evening any less likely to be a headache. Questioning the interrogator was never a good move, even less so this one, and they shared a despise of small talk.] I'm ready.

[So cut to the chase. He wouldn't learn anything from mutual icy stares.]

[homonka]

Then let's begin.

[ This is perhaps the only interview where she's willing to afford some measure of trust--not because of sentiment, but experience. Hijikata is many things, most of them unpleasant to her, and yet he has survived their joint missions without the impending threat of her blade.

Some might call it friendship, but they're both too professional to be that delusional. It's hard-earned and easily-lost respect, the sort of trust that only the equally violent and driven can achieve.

He's survived this long because she's never doubted his loyalty to see the mission to its end.

.. but she's still going to enjoy getting to screw with him a bit. Even ice queens need their occasional roast.

Elbows posted, her hands fold neatly into a lattice beneath her chin. ]

Tell me how you came to work for us, Toushirou.

[mayora13]

[Trust to complete a mission with relentless efficiency and trust to have the other's best interests at heart are completely different. The first, Hijikata has in ample supply for Sui Feng, the well of something almost like respect not likely to run dry. The later, however

He doesn't delude himself. Neither that he's in such good graces with her, nor that she'd even allow herself to consider anyone so warmly.

They'd protect each other the way one keeps a weapon tucked close on their hip, rare moments of levity akin only to cleaning a gun for more effective use.

It's almost relaxing, hearing her strictly professional tone. The familiar sound he's grown accustomed to out of necessity is one he much prefers to the dynamic babbling of others he's worked with. But it's precisely because he can nearly relax that Hijikata retains his posture, doesn't cross his legs, and speaks in an echo of the voice he's been addressed with.]

I was recommended for a position by a senior officer, who has since been transferred to a remote location within the J. [He could go on, but extra information would only render him more prone to the prickling of needling questions.]

[homonka]

[ His answer is smooth, molding around her ears and settling in the shells of them with weightless ease. So often these assignments spur monologues from the other side of the table, prattling tales and speeches that drain the well of her patience into arid bedrock, but not he.

He, unlike so many others, answers as he should: without filler, without filigree. It makes the plight of an interrogator harder, of course, this mincing of words, the clipped nature of his answer. If anything, Sui Feng would be best served if he did let his tongue run courageously free, gathering the words as ammunition for future bombardments.

But she is not, by nature, an interrogator. She is not prone to the softness and manipulation needed to excel in this arena, and so the script set in motion by their traded professionalism is not a detriment to her goals.

As ever, those goals are to go for the throat, and if not, to gently squeeze it enough to put the fear of the gods into him.

(All in due time.)

For now, she rewards his reply with the faint twist of her lips, the semblance of a serpentine smile ghosting across her face. Digits roam over the screen beneath them like wings of ivory butterflies, soft and purposeful with each dab of contact. Text files fly by, skidding away from view with each motion of twirling fingertips. ]

Further than that. Why did the son of a Leithian household choose a life in the Company? Surely you had other prospects. You might have made a fine.. farmhand, after all.