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

[ofobedience]

Then I'll take it plain.

[Again, the feeling of surreality I'll take it plain, as if these things could matter to him, as if it'll make any difference. The disparity between one situation and the next, Sui Feng's assertions, this man's attempts at civility-- it's a gulf he doesn't know how to cross. It'd be easier, he thinks, if Julius were to give him orders, talk at him rather than to him, create a sense of cohesion that would be easier to understand.

But he doesn't, offers something else instead, a step closer to informality and beneath the impassive surface something prickles and creeps in him, the vague suspicion that it's some sort of assessment he ought not to fail. Still. He supposes there's only one way to test the boundaries laid out for him, to see where he fits in the order of things, and so finally he smiles.

It's small and sharp, a little strange.]

She didn't do anything out of the ordinary. A little fiercer than anticipated, perhaps, but nothing too unexpected.

[He shrugs-- it could have been worse. He'd once had a temporary Handler who cut him with Dog Bite on their first meeting, just to see what would happen. At least Sui Feng only threatened to do it, even if it's a threat he wholeheartedly believes.]

Duty before anything else is an admirable trait.

[Something he strives for himself. Succeeds at, for the most part. As for the statement about being seen as a comrade--well. He doesn't address it for the moment. Isn't sure how to. Not yet.]

[tousei]

[ It's startling, how different their internal narratives have been.

Being civil is something in part cultivated into him and in part his own decision. His mother told him that there was very little justice in this world and intended to use his fixation on it as a way to further her own means; something that he had only realized after she was gunned down in her very own laboratory. There are many things he could have hated about her, the way she engineered even his fashion to her own perfection - and yet, he was utterly alone without her. She had kept him close, a pretty pawn in her game, who would still be stuck in the rut of her teachings even after she was long gone.

There's that very small spark of rebellion that contributed in part. He, who was used as an elaborate tool, would never do it to another. ]

Plain it is.

[ He walks over to the kettle and switches it off, pouring the water into the teapot and letting it steep. It's hot but not scalding - should be adequate for a good brew. ]

It is something we should all aspire towards.

[ If Giovanni's comment of 'a little fiercer' is true, then he dreads to think of what other treatment the thin man before him could have endured. Yet, it's not his place to question it. ]

We may be moving out on a mission soon. There is much to be done.

[ofobedience]

[Funny-- if he were to hear details about Julius' Mother, his beginnings, there might be a shred of jealousy there, some small and grasping part of him that would wish for that same level of doting. Manipulated and fashioned into a tool of her design perhaps, but to be that admired, to have a creator - of sorts - who was proud of him...it's what Giovanni himself had always striven for. Still strives for even now, for all that Professor Einsturzen barely registers his existence.

He never has been her favourite. Quite the opposite, really.

But those parts of themselves remain unspoken and unknown, and Giovanni watches with mild detachment as his 'comrade' pours water into the waiting pot, watches the steam slowly rise.

His smile remains small and fixed as the other man talks, barely a smile at all but more something he does with his face, an attempt at human expression. That is, until Julius mentions the mission. Something quickens in him then, sparking and hot between his ribs and this time when his smile spreads wider, there's something more genuine in it.]

Oh, good. Inactivity is such a bore, don't you think? I'd much rather stretch my legs. Have a little fun.

[And his eyes go to the other man now, watching carefully for signs of admonishment or encouragement or something else entirely. Some sign that he'd really meant it when he he'd said there was no need to be so formal.]

[tousei]

[ It brings to mind a question. Which would be a better fate: to have a creator who fed you only lies and then left forever, or to not be noticed at all?

It is one difficult to answer. ]

Us soldiers would only rust if left idle.

[ His agreement is given, albeit wrapped up in some good measure of formality. He had said for Giovanni to not adhere to it, yet his own habit is very hard to shake. ]

I believe I will be accompanying you. I hope we can work well together.

[ There is no strictness in his countenance, merely a quiet acceptance and the slightest of gestures to imply a lack of regimentation. Now that Sui Feng wasn't in the room anymore, the stiffness in his posture has decreased noticeably. ]

[ofobedience]

[It's subtle, the difference in him, still formal yet with a slight relaxation that says yes, he may well mean what he says. That particular stiffness is reserved for the company of their superior, and that's something he can understand, having quite literally been on the receiving end of her sharp edges.

It's not quite enough for him to lose all of his own reservations, the dull uncertainty still thudding in his chest, but enough for him to maintain the level of informality he'd injected into his last statement. It's made all the more evident by Julius' choice of words now-- accompanying him, working together. He could phrase it in harsher, stricter ways should he choose to (I'm acting as Handler, you'll be working for me), and yet he doesn't. And so Giovanni graces him with a loose-shouldered shrug, a continuation of his smile.]

There's no cause for concern on my account. I know how to behave.

[tousei]

[ Sui Feng is very good at putting people on edges, literal or otherwise. ]

I shall look forward to it, then.

[ Having an objective does take his mind off other things. They would be called in for damage control and escorts if the disease gets worse, though the exact scope if it would depend on their superior. Giovanni hasn't reacted adversely to his attempt at casualty, so he assumes it's alright to continue.

There's a pause as he walks over to the teapot and pours out some for both of them. In equal amounts, Giovanni might note. ]

It's ready.

[ The unmarked mug is left on the table close to them with the handle facing Giovanni so he can take it easily. ]

[ofobedience]

[The fact is, he'll accept almost anything provided it's coming from above. Takes his cue from the behaviour of those around him, and whilst it's a harder thing to understand, this continued civility, this offering him things that he doesn't - as far as he's concerned - deserve, if this is the way things are going to be with Julius he'll try to settle around it, adjust to the unfamiliar shape. And so he watches as the man pours out tea (and yes, he notices that small marker of equality, strange as it might seem), the scent of it good and somehow - vaguely - settling.

Still. There's a small delay before he reaches to take the mug intended for him, that small disquiet feeling of doing something he shouldn't still present, as though perhaps he'll be denied in the final moment, told he's failed some kind of covert test. Nothing like that happens, though, and so he takes the mug in one slender-fingered hand.

He doesn't need this, sustenance of any kind, but that doesn't mean it's unpleasant, or that he dislikes it. And perhaps this simple action will do something to soothe the jitter of his nerves. Steady him in some way. It's been an interesting day, to say the least.]

Thank you. It's appreciated.

[It seems the polite thing to do. And vaguely he considers asking questions, saying something to fill up the quiet spaces, but he never has been especially proficient at small talk. Waits, instead, to take his lead from Julius.]

[tousei]

[ The tea is steeped to bring out its flavour but not to make it overly bitter; a timing he's perfected from years of making tea for others. He lets the silence settle between them while he takes a draught of his own drink - similarly bad at small talk, the two of them. ]

It's no problem.

[ Now that the formality is done, he's once again at a loss as what to say. Scouring his mind for a few moments brings up a question, though it sounds oddly bland in the light of the conversation they just had. ]

Where will you be staying for this period of time?

[ It is, again, a question of courtesy more than anything else. If something happens and they need to be dispatched together, he should at least know a meeting point. ]

[ofobedience]

[He takes a sip of his own tea then, quietly surprised by the taste of it, that it's good. Heightened senses come with a heightened sense of taste, a strange augmentation, he thinks, when food is unnecessary for them, and as such some things can seem unpleasant to his kind where to most they'd be acceptable. Perhaps it's why the food they're given at the Kennel - regular meals are encouraged in order to instil a sense of order, to make them feel more grounded within reality, whatever that's supposed to mean - is so incredibly bland.

Whatever the case, he wraps both hands around the steadying warmth of the mug as Julius asks his question, tilts his head slightly in that strange canine gesture as he gives it consideration.]

I don't know. That's for our supervisor to decide. Perhaps I ought to be concerned, hahah.

[It's not as though they're about to put him up in some guesthouse or hotel, after all. On Westerley there's the Kennel, and outside of that - more than ever, when in a 'nice' place like Leith, or the rare occasions he's taken to Qresh, where they wouldn't want a volatile abomination like him just wandering around - they'd hardly leave him somewhere unsupervised. With any luck Sui Feng has given him enough consideration that he won't have to be kept on the ship they flew in on, or something worse. It wouldn't surprise him. He hadn't thought to ask-- she doesn't seem to type who'd appreciate him asking questions out of turn.]

[tousei]

[ The atypical nature of Giovanni's gestures are not missed - his unit name evokes the very image, and it's not hard to draw that allusion. However, Julius makes no sign of noticing it. It's not something worth pointing out, not when it had a (presumably) explainable source and also completely nothing to do with their mission. As long as it wasn't something that got in the way of his duty, he couldn't be bothered to care.

Most of the time. There are exceptions. ]

I see.

[ Giovanni did say he was well-behaved, and it's something he would believe if only because the other wouldn't even be here if it wasn't true. ]

I would expect she has arrangements for when we are at base. But if we do happen to be assigned a field mission alone or out of Leith, you can stay on my ship if you wish.

[ Julius' words are delivered plainly with a slight tilt of his head, his stoic expression unchanging. Given what he's heard about the other, his assigned quarters are probably not up to par with what a human (and not a tool) should receive.

This is what sets him apart from Sui Feng the most. Of course, he won't disobey her, but it doesn't mean he can't have his own ideas about other things. ]

[ofobedience]

[Taking another sip of tea, he nods his acquiescence. When away from Westerley and the familiarity of the Kennel, Company HQ or the ship of his Handler is standard in terms of places he's likely to be kept. Not always, and there have been an array of unusual - and not always pleasant - alternatives, but these are the locations he's most accustomed to. And Julius is right in as much as that his assigned quarters are rarely the kind an ordinary human would find acceptable.

Giovanni, of course, is in no position to argue. Accepts without question whatever his superiors decide for him. Much like now.

It's only the addition of 'if you wish' that throws him. As far as he's concerned, it's not his decision to make. If he has preferences, he keeps them to himself.]

Whatever she - or you - decide is appropriate.

[And again, he smiles, quick and sharp.]

I'm sure your ship would be more than sufficient.

[tousei]

[ He has little means of judging Giovanni's opinion other than what he shows, so he just takes it as a pass. ]

Alright. [ It's kept in quite the Spartan condition, so it shouldn't be a problem. His colleague doesn't seem like the sort to be picky.

He's about to say more, but then something goes off on his communicator and he has to take the moment to check it. ]

We have a mission. We are to patrol the quarantines starting two hours from now.

[ There's still a little bit of time, but maybe they should start preparing soon. It staves off the silence, in any case. ]

[ofobedience]

[Again, there's the curious tilt of his head as the sound fills up the quiet space between them, vague interest apparent in his cool expression. Then Julius speaks, and something visibly quickens in him, a ripple of life behind the cold surface he presents to the world.]

Quarantine patrol. What fun.

[There's a wry slide to his voice that suggests it isn't exactly his mission of choice, but the way his muscles jump beneath his skin seem to impart a different tale. It's something, action rather than inertia, and with the way this day has shaped up so far he could use something to settle him, orders to execute, a mission to complete. It's enough.]

Should we start to prepare, Sir?

[He says it, takes a last sip of his tea before placing the mug down on the side. Two hours gives them some time, but that doesn't mean it can't be meaningfully filled.]

[tousei]

[ Julius notes the shift, but doesn't comment on it. If anything, it's information to file away so he can get to know his colleague better. His usual conduct seems to suffice as amiable interaction, but that might change once they get into the field. ]

We should. I will head back to my quarters temporarily; we can meet at the gate before we head off. Do you need any help?

[ He needs to arm himself and do some medical checks before deploying, though if there's something else they need to do together he would put that first. ]

[ofobedience]

[Giovanni shakes his head, face splitting open on a quick smile.]

No need. I'll wait for you at the gate.

[He only needs a little time to prepare, to check his weapons, what little equipment he has. In truth there's no need for it, but sometimes the more civilised approach - bullets over teeth and nails - is what they want from him. He doesn't mind that-- guns make a pretty sound, the bright flash and bang of them, and there's something in it that pleases him in a way he doesn't quite understand. A strange nostalgia.

But that aside, he'll be ready and waiting at the gate when Julius arrives, a vaneer of patience overlaying his eagerness to begin.]

I'm kinda winging the mission so feel free to add details!

[tousei]

Very well. Until then.

[ With that he leaves for his quarters. About half an hour later he would be at the gate in his uniform. In contrast to Giovanni, he's armed not with a gun but with an elaborate longsword. ]

We still have some time. Shall we go now, or later?

[ They're assigned to an area to the north. It's a short walk away from the start point. ]

okay, will do!

[ofobedience]

[Giovanni turns on hearing his superior approach, and while he maintains a professional facade there's still something visibly hungry in him, eagerness straining at the smooth surface he presents. But then Julius speaks, and there's a small dissonant surprise on hearing the question-- orders, yes, but options? They're not something he's used to, at least not coming from someone above him.

There's a fractional hesitation, the small strange tilt of his head, but then he decides that if the man is asking for his assessment it'd be rude not to give it. He smiles.]

Let's go now, if it pleases you.

[It's clear from his poise and the lines of his body that to go sooner rather than later pleases him.]

[tousei]

[ Clear indeed, which is why Julius nods and moves forward. ]

Alright.

[ And they're out in the afternoon sun soon enough. He's a man of few words, so he doesn't speak unless necessary - instead, his thoughts go to his companion, and his manner. There's that hesitation which he can't quite place, though he supposes it should be attributed to Giovanni's upbringing.

Both of them unnatural, yet different in the ways in which they are so. Still, it's not something to be pondered out loud, so he keeps the silence; devoting his attention to taking in the landscape and anything that might need their intervention. ]

[ofobedience]

[And for now, at least, Giovanni is disinclined to interject his voice into the silence that springs up between them, still taking the other man's measure, still unsure of how best to behave. He's inclined towards sly banter and bright bouts of laughter, but Julius is his superior and until he understands him better he's unwilling to bring too much of his personality into play. Some of them don't like it, want to think of him as an object or a machine, a dumb animal that obeys commands but has nothing more offer than that. Which is fine, it makes no difference to him ultimately, but already the other man has shown signs of flexibility in that respect. The unaccustomed offering of nourishment, asking his opinion, offering choices-- they're all small signs that suggest he can get away with a little more, and yes it's mildly disconcerting to something conditioned towards cool indifference from those above them, but it's something he'll slowly assimilate if need be. Act accordingly.

For now he moves with silent determination, keeping a respectful two steps behind the other man, a dog brought to heel. The way he moves though-- it's predatory, sinuous, full of unspoken expectation. The desire for something bloody and brutal bubbling beneath his calm surface.

The landscape stretches out before them with a pastoral prettiness that belies the purpose of their visit here, but with his sharp eyesight Giovanni can already pick out the blight on the scene up ahead, the cordoning off of a chunk of land, intended to keep something in. Infinitesimally, his pulse rises higher, and he takes a sharp indrawn breath.]

[tousei]

[ The nature of the something should also be evident to Giovanni as they approach - the stink of disease, invisible to Julius for now, riding on the tail of a gentle breeze.

The Enforcer looks down at his armlet, flipping open the cover to reveal a monitor inside. He inspects it briefly before closing the cover - a small gesture, almost innocuous. ]

We have arrived.

[ Their orders are to keep the quarantine and escort anyone who tries to leave. Resistance will be dealt with force, though whether said force is authorized to be lethal depends on the state of the person trying to escape, since it's a psychiatric ward. Still, it's up to their judgement. ]

[ofobedience]

[And notice it he does-- there's a subtle lift of his chin as they approach, quickly scenting the air and ascertaining the extent of what they're dealing with, or trying to. It's an unpleasant thing, the stench of inner rot, biological yes but with something not quite right about it, something false--

--but he's momentarily distracted by Julius' movements, eyes sharp as he watches his superior, waits for orders or requests or some indication of what they do from here.]

And now we wait, I suppose.

[There's something in the way he says it, a vague tension that suggests waiting isn't quite to his liking, but at least there should be some movement required as they patrol the borders. A way to use up the kinetic energy pooling inside of him, now.

Down to their judgement. The fact is, if things are left to Giovanni's judgement it'll be a case of shoot first, ask questions never. But this is precisely why he has a Handler present. Someone to point the weapon, keep it sheathed when necessary.

There's a small pause, a slight hesitation as though he's uncertain as to whether his question will be welcomed, but then--]

The sickness seems to be setting in deep. I can smell it from here. Does it concern you?

[Are you capable of catching it, unlike him?]

[tousei]

[ It's not hard to draw the analogy. Dogs would wish for activity, and it seems that the same instinct has been instilled into Giovanni. The reminder doesn't sit well with Julius, it reminds him of the injustice that dwells within their very existence - and yet, it's not something he would blame the other for. It's also impossible to unlearn those impulses, so the best he can do is make accommodations. ]

We can take a walk along the perimeter.

[ Better than sitting in one place. ]

I cannot smell it. I doubt it will affect me, though its numbers are concerning.

[ He's immune in theory, but disease is never a good thing. ]

[ofobedience]

[And there's truth in that-- his behavioural quirks, the animalesque impulses, in part they're something bred into him, something imbedded right down to his DNA and therefore impossible to escape, whilst the rest is a matter of socialisation, or the lack thereof. Without the complication of social conventions and niceties instilled into them at an impressionable age, the Dogs were instead encouraged to act on their instincts, and subtly it shows, right down to even simple things like this. His dislike of inactivity, the need to be kept moving, kept occupied.

He is what they've made of him.

As such, he's ready enough to comply with Julius' suggestion. To pace and guard and wait for something to happen. To stretch his legs, as it were.

He nods when Julius gives his answer, and despite those base instincts that pull and tug at him, there's a sharpness in his eyes that denotes thoughtful intelligence. He knows a thing or two about the Enforcer, the rumours one picks up on, and he'll take it as a small confirmation that he has had at least one similar modification, that the two of them are likely immune.

It makes sense for the both of them to be stationed here, when thought of like that.]

It's certainly spreading rapidly. Or seems to be.

[tousei]

[ They both have their fates written into their very blood. It seems a thing impossible to change. Giovanni, to be a loyal murderous hound. Julius, to be simply murderous, an instinct suppressed by both his willpower and the sedative poured into his veins.

And yet... ]

Something of this scale is never natural.

[ People will die. It's a fact reflected in his silver-grey eyes as he casts his gaze towards the horizon, a slight narrowing of his brows perhaps in displeasure, but then it's gone again. ]

[ofobedience]

[Again, there's the slight inclination of his head as he sniffs at the air, the subtle stink of illness that taints it, and he nods with a certainty that runs bone-deep. Whatever this is, whatever caused it, it didn't arise from nowhere.]

I'll say.

[The last word has only just finished forming on his lips when something in the distance catches at his attention, heightened vision letting him see further and clearer than any ordinary human could, and though it's still a way off, still indistinct, there's definitely the first indication of movement. His body pulls taut like a bow waiting to be released, a dog on point, and he lifts a hand in the direction of the movement, meaning to catch Julius' attention.]

Over there. Do you see?

[And there's something in his voice, now. The smallest thrill of excitement. Yes people will die. Preferably, at least some of them, at his hands.]