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

[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.]

[tousei]

[ Julius doesn't see, not at this distance, but he trusts Giovanni's ability to see in his stead. His stance changes just subtly, and he begins moving forward almost instantly. ]

Let's go closer.

[ Perhaps that would resolve the movement into something discernible. Given that only the two of them were assigned here, he would expect it to be less eventful than this - but then again, the illness itself puts this entire situation out of the ordinary.

This place is already filled with the dying. Perhaps Giovanni would find himself sated. ]

[ofobedience]

[He doesn't need telling twice, and the way he moves now is all predetor, steps fluid and sinuous and full of purpose, for all that - for the moment - he still keeps those respectful two steps behind his Handler. There's something in him though, an invisible tugging, straining at the metaphorical leash.

The movement ahead becomes clearer to him the closer they get, and when he speaks again his smooth, cool voice is infinitesimally coloured by anticipation.]

It looks like a small group of people heading this way. Three or four, I think.

[And there's the smell of them, too-- sickness and fear.]

[tousei]

[ Julius' own movements are decidedly more animalistic than Giovanni's, though there's also that fluid tension that indicates a shift for battle. Soon enough the people resolve themselves in his vision - three patients, evident by the ward clothes that they wear, trailed by a member of staff evidently incapable of restraining them. ]

We should stop them. [ Not the staff, of course, but the others. ] Don't kill them yet.

[ Yet, being the keyword. Stunning should suffice, unless their disease drives them to attack the two of them. ]

[ofobedience]

[Disappointment plucks at him, the tension wound high in muscles and jawbone, the hot throbbing in nails and eyeteeth and the joints of his wrist a quiet protest at being held back, at the thought of restraint. It's there in him, the air around him, something threatening to break apart and come undone but he keeps it in, swallows it down. Knows how to obey.

Slowly, he nods.]

As you like it, Sir.

[And he speeds up, purposeful, moving to intercept them.

He's holding on to that 'yet', hoping it'll become something else.]

[tousei]

[ It's evident now the reason that Giovanni would need an accompaniment - a voice of reason, perhaps, someone to adhere to the best course of action. There are those who would need to die, but there are also innocents who deserve to live. Though judging from the mental states of the people running towards them, they might not have time even for that. Two of them have classic responses of those gone mad, but a third - leading the group, even - seems to change course directly for the Enforcers.

The staff member calls out to them, gesticulates a call for help; and in response Julius raises his longsword. Electricity surges along the polished black metal, enough to stun but not to kill. ]

You can take the one at the front. [ The craziest one. ] I can cover the rear.

[ofobedience]

[And there it is, as Julius has rightly discerned-- he's been bred for wanton violence, something hammered down into his bones and, some might say, the job has been done a little too well because left to his own devices he would show no signs of restraint. Would kill them all, perhaps those trying to herd the sick and mentally unhinged, blinded by the bloodlust that makes him what he is. It isn't unknown for those among the Cerberus Unit to do exactly that-- hence the Dog Bite blade, not so much a cruelty as a necessity.

But for Giovanni, at least, orders take precedence over his own desires.]

Yes, Sir.

[there's the hint of something gleeful and hungry in the low drawl of his voice, and Giovanni waits for no further instructions before he picks up speed to a staggering degree, too swift to rightly be called human. And then he he leaps, slamming into the crazed individual leading the charge against them, brings them both crashing to the ground.

There's so little effort involved in the way he twists the man underneath him, pins him prone to the ground, grabs up both arms and pulls them up behind his back until the sick sound of bones breaking rings out between them and rushes through him and the feelings in him then, they're beautiful. There's the twisted cry of pain from the man trapped under Giovanni's weight and the merciless pressure applied to both arms but even then, the sick man is snapping like something feral and rabid, trying to reach the Dog that keeps him pinned.

Giovanni pays him no mind, and his laughter rings out hot and stark all through the empty air.]

[tousei]

[ Julius doesn't react to Giovanni's actions, not immediately - his mind is focused on his own duty as he brings down Volitional's flat to smack another patient in the side, and the person crumples almost immediately. The third is dispatched as cleanly as the second, electricity stunning both of them into unconsciousness just as the staff member catches up with them.

The white-robed nurse cries out, and it's only then that he notices, a twist in his stomach well-suppressed by years of instinct but still present nevertheless. Yet he knows it's not entirely Giovanni's fault, which is why he doesn't reprimand him for using too much force.

The feral patient still tries to get at Giovanni, but he's overpowered both in terms of brute strength and instinct. Julius has the intention of telling him to release the sick man, but then the nurse speaks up and tells them that he's infected with the plague, been only a danger, and nearly strangled a doctor.

Herein lies an unspoken decision that they have to make. Julius still has his reservations, but as the seconds tick by and the man tries to get at Giovanni's throat, they're disappearing. ]

What do you think?

[ It might be better to just put him out of his misery. ]

[ofobedience]

[It's a difficult thing, tearing himself away from the visceral pleasure that threatens to overcome him in the moment of violence, from the feel of the man thrashing beneath him, the beautiful crunch and twist of those broken bones as the patient tries to yank his arms - pointlessly, uselessly - out of Giovanni's inimical grasp.

He does it, though, the laughter cutting off, a moment of near-panting breaths (not a sign of exertion, no, just an indication of the animal joy in him that pulses and glitters so bright he struggles to see past it), and he settles himself around the sound of Julius' voice, his obedient conditioning setting in. The nurse eyes him with a mix of terror and awe, edging a little closer to the steely calm that Julius represents, but Giovanni pays her no mind at all, his attention divided between Handler and victim.

And again, there's a question, a choice, and Giovanni tilts his head in that canine gesture of confusion. It's not an order, it's an option, and as such he holds back from acting any further until the decision has been reached. When his voice comes, it's surprisingly level and calm.]

I'll do whatever you deem necessary, Sir.

[And there's something in that obedience that seems to settle the nurse, though she remains close to Julius, wary and tense.]

But if the choice were mine, I'd dispatch him. By all accounts, he has a slow and agonized death ahead of him. At least, with me, it would be quick.

[tousei]

[ So it falls to him. One person to make the judgment of life and death, one person with little facts, if any at all. He doesn't know this patient, know what he does, his conduct, his worthiness to die. All he has is the current situation, and that's much too little to work with.

And yet, it's a snap decision that is demanded of him. The positives outweigh the negatives, from an unemotional eye.

"Emotions are unnecessary. They only impede the judgment that would be correct."

Given what his partner had to endure this morning, it would help not just the nurse, the patient, but him too. ]

It would be mercy, yes. Then do it.

[ He feels surprisingly little remorse, his voice calm and level. And so another life stains his hands. ]