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

[tirejacked]

[Jason doesn't risk a glance back toward Kate when she poses the question, but he cants his head in her direction to show he's listening. Coming to the conclusion that no, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Tattoo'd over there by the door is not the errant jakk peddler that he lost track of last week, he leans back against the bar and obligingly considers the poker table instead.

Pitched low soas not to skew the results, and with all the gravity that this very serious question deserves—]

If they haven't wised up by now, I'm not holding my breath. Never trust a man in that much gingham.

[Sure, this isn't exactly the classy side of town, but really. Some people just don't pay any attention at all. Here, he tips his drink subtly over toward the left side of the table.]

Ol' eyepatch over there keeps sneaking chips out of his pile, though.

[Cheaters cheating cheaters. Gripping inter-poker tension. Better than cable, really.]

[fledges]

[Kate puts a hand up to her mouth to hide her grin, letting out a quiet, thoughtful hum.]

Look at poor Mr. Argyle Sweater Vest. He doesn't have a clue.

[She could step in and save him, but Sweater Vest was creeping on the already harried bartender just an hour ago, so Kate isn't feeling particularly friendly towards him tonight.]

Want to bet on who figures it out first?

[tirejacked]

[Mr. Argyle Sweater Vest needs to learn to fend for himself. Sink or swim, buddy, it's a dog-eat-dog poker world out there.]

I'll put joy on that.

[Why not, make it more interesting. He raps his fingers against the counter of the bar he's leaning on while he weighs his lying, cheating options.]

Eyepatch seems like a wily old guy. Bet you he's been doing this for decades.

[Even playing at a depth perception disadvantage. Maybe he's just a sucker for an underdog.]

[fledges]

Wily, huh?

[Interesting reasoning. Kate falls silent for a moment, studying the men at the table, and then she nudges Jason, her voice low.]

I want the guy next to him. The one that doesn't look like a circus puked on him.

[He's not cheating, but he looks smarter than Argyle guy. Maybe Kate is a sucker for the good ones.]

How much are we betting?

[tirejacked]

[Kate goes with Good Guy Getting Fleeced. Also an interesting choice. Nothing to do now but wait it out while they deal out the next game.]

I'd say I'll buy you a round, but you don't seem like much of a drinker.

[Referring to her mostly-untouched drink. She's been hanging around long enough to have reasonably put a dent into it, but she hasn't. Which means either it's for show and she's here for the ambiance and the poker game drama, or she's here for something else entirely.]

[fledges]

Maybe I'm only a drinker when I like the person buying.

[Okay, to be fair she doesn't want to be smashed while trying to stop a robbery or something. He's observant, though, so she makes a point of taking a swig.]

I'm playing security for the night. Sort of.

[tirejacked]

[He could let that pass without opening his mouth but—]

Lucky I'm so likable.

[Hah. But she doesn't have to get smashed on his account. Being a nosy bastard is part occupational but mostly reflex. Since she's apparently on the clock, it checks out pretty neatly with her stake in keeping an eye on impending fistfights over dirty poker games.

"Sort of." As for that—]

Just in case someone decides to sort of shake up the joint?

[fledges]

Then I'll sort of make them regret it.

[Kate fiddles absently with the straw in her drink, and then lets out a long-suffering sigh.]

I'm not getting paid, so technically I'm just a very protective and very awesome regular.

[tirejacked]

[That's pretty cute. Harvest Week is rowdy even under better circumstances, it's not unheard of to see popular locales taking on extra security. If they can afford it.]

Pro bono beatdowns. That's either very generous or slightly bloodthirsty of you.

[Or both. This is Westerley, the former is probably a lot harder to find then the latter. Time is money, around here most of all. Not everyone's so inclined to donate their free time to beating up drunks.]

[fledges]

"Bloodthirsty" implies I'm waiting with bated breath for some Jesse James wannabe to roll in here so I can take him out. I just want to help. It's not like the enforcers, in their benevolence, are going to help some guy running a dive bar get his money back if he's robbed.

[Generous and very opinionated, apparently.]

[tirejacked]

[He did say "either." But hey, some people just like trouble. He doesn't judge other people for their lifestyle choices. (Yes, he does.)

Generous and proactive, even better. The none-so-subtle jab at the Company does seem to prompt him to scoff into his drink before he sets it back down on the counter. Heavy on the sarcasm—not least in the light of the recent upheaval on the matter of the approaching Accords—]

Give them a little credit. I'm sure they'll consider filing a report after a few more generations of good behavior.

[fledges]

If any of them even care beyond their paycheck.

[Be a little more obviously bitter, Kate. She's focused a bit more solidly on the game now, mouth twisting into a humorless expression.]

Looks like your guy is doing something sneaky.

[tirejacked]

[He raises a brow at the continued pointed bitterness—Jason's a killjoy, a little inter-faction friction is to be socially expected, if not tolerated, but most people either have the fear of god or the common sense to be more careful about their dissenting around strangers. He files it away for later when Kate redirects his attention to the game.

(Is the RAC any better on paper? Not entirely, just different. Following the tides of profit and the letter of the highest bidding warrant instead of the self-righteous will of the Nine. Neutral to the point of disengagement. But at least they don't pretend to be anything else.)

Eyepatch pretends to count his chips and starts restacking them in patterns. 3, then 2, then 3, similar but different to the way they've been laid out before. Terrible Suit catches his eye and starts dealing out cards from the bottom of the deck and Jason groans. Just his luck.]

They're in cahoots. No wonder Porky wasn't missing his chips.

[Not stupid, just working a larger con. That's what he gets for taking a bet prematurely.]

[fledges]

[Kate, unfortunately, is not always one for caution, especially considering her feelings about the Company are all tangled up in her personal disappointment and anger at her father. She can have a loud mouth. Jason seems to distract and redirect her easily enough, and she laughs at his observation.

Even more luckily for Jason, the man Kate chose to bet on appears utterly unsuspecting, staring down at his own cards with a frown and a furrowed brow.]

It's okay. I apparently picked the most oblivious man in the entire city.

[She pauses briefly.]

Did you really just say cahoots?

[tirejacked]

[Daddy issues, who has those, right. Luckily for her, he's hardly going to turn her in for a traitor. But it takes a certain type to be that open with her distaste, so it's hard not to notice.

More importantly: he sure did say cahoots, do you want to fight about it. At least she's not doing much better with this than he is. He leans back, gesturing with his drink.]

I could say they're colluding but I don't want to give them too much credit. These guys aren't exactly the system's most wanted.

[Cahoots has more of a D-list villain vibe to it, don't you think?]

[fledges]

Well, "colluding" makes you sound less like my grandmother, but I guess it's up to you.

[She's grinning, and she nudges his stool with her boot.]

So what happens if we both crash and burn?

[tirejacked]

Your grandmother sounds like a sharp old lady, I'll take that as a compliment.

[He's full of shit but he's having fun, so it's hard to be too salty about his luck for too long. Misery loves company, and all. And his company poses a pretty good question. So, he leans forward and allows all four legs of his barstool to hit the ground again and makes a point of looking thoughtful.]

That depends, when do you get off shift?

[fledges]

[She can't let the grandma comment slide, so she raises her eyebrows at him, adjusting her aviators on top of her head.]

I'll let her know a nice young man on Westerley was sucking up to her. Anyway, I promised I would be here for another half hour.

[tirejacked]

[Don't lie to your grandma, Kate, he's not a nice young man at all. But you know how it goes, doesn't hurt to impress a girl by sucking up to her family, right.

Interesting that she specifies "on Westerley." Hypothetical Grandma isn't local.]

And what do you do when you're not donating your time to bouncing bars and commentating poker games?

[This may or may not have a whole lot to do with answering the question, but he's nosy.]

[fledges]

Charm everyone I meet.

[She's teasing. Mostly. Maybe only a bit, considering the way she half smirks at him.]

But I'm also a private investigator. [She hooks a thumb over her shoulder towards the back of the bar, where the owner might be.] That's how I ended up here tonight. The owner was one of my clients and we kept in touch.

[tirejacked]

[If he's supposed to be scandalized instead of encouraged by this quippy bullshit, he's going to miss the memo by a mile. He cracks a crooked kind of smile into his drink while she elaborates.

PI, well, that's not too shocking in light of the beating up troublemakers for fun and profit. Relying on the Enforcers is a joke, and not everyone can afford the cost and the red tape of a warrant when they've got problems to solve. Hell, not everyone finds a killjoy a particularly trustworthy source of help in the first place. Plenty of room for third parties.]

I'm sure being charming helps a lot in that line of work.

[Y'know, not that he would know.]

I'm surprised I haven't heard of you.

[fledges]

[Kate doesn't seem too bothered by the fact that he hasn't heard of her. In fact, she seems encouraged by that smile of his, and she cocks her head, nudging his arm gently.]

Hey, you have now, and I don't mind getting you caught up. What do you want to know?

[tirejacked]

[What do you know. Jason's a suspicious bastard in a profession full of suspicious bastards—sure, it's just barroom banter, but it's still something of a novel thing to run into someone who'll say that kind of thing that easily and mean it. (Presumably mean it.)]

We could start with a name before we move onto the skeletons in the closet. Maybe a few deep dark secrets. I'm not picky.

[fledges]

Kate Bishop.

[She holds out her hand with a flourish, grinning at him.]

The pleasure's all mine. Probably. I need a name from you too before I start spilling my heart out.

[tirejacked]

And ruin my mysterious airs?

[This seems to be a sacrifice he's willing to make, because he shifts back toward her so he can take the offered hand. Turnabout is fair play.]

Jason Todd.