Futuristic Electric Sheep [Always Open] - [Androids | Space | Politics]

[Sir Galahad II]

Incoming File ...
To: Bang Bang Collidias Rex

RE: ROBERT HANCOCK

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: Rob is about to get himself castrated.

ClassifiedRob was reassured by Rime's explanation of the pricing. He was always skeptical of any joybar with cheap girls, as he wasn't planning on being infected any time soon. The Shadow District explanation did make sense, however. He also found himself amused by the story Rime told about one of the "guard dogs" he saw up front (that's all he could assume they were referencing, as he knew very little about Greek mythology.) He could tell he was going to like this place. Despite the messy interior, of course, which he only noticed after giving a compliment to Hades. Nothing he could do about it now, though.

He was about to start speaking when he heard a commotion outside. Rob excused himself for a moment before turning and pulling back the curtain, looking out at the scene unfolding before him. Although he could recognize the councilman's face, he couldn't quite place his name- James? Jerry? Whatever, he was just another pompous noblu to him. It seemed that he was mocking Hades, who he now knew to be Wilhelm Descartes. They had some bad blood between them, it seemed. Perhaps he'd ask about it later- not to Hades, Hades was far too pissed off- but to someone. He was intrigued.

Not interested in viewing the entire mess that show-off was creating, he simply elected to turn back and speak to Rime about the girls.

"Sorry, I was just curious. Now-"

Before he could speak, the curtain opened up behind him to reveal the white-haired woman from before, giving a warning to Rime, about the man who he could now remember the name of thanks to her reminder. Olver. As in Jamie au Olver. That wasn't important at the moment, though. She turned to speak to him, and even offered her hand. Read my mind, he thought.

"Perfectly fine, miss," he said, smiling and shaking her hand. "Name's Robert. Or Rob, whichever. I heard your name from some guy earlier- Persephone, was it? It's nice to meet you."

At the mention of a girl on the house, an idea popped into his head- though he was a little rusty, he figured he may as well give it a shot. Might be his last time seeing the woman anyway.

"Any one, huh? You wouldn't happen to be available, would you?" he said, charmingly. Or so he hoped.

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: Shadow Districts
tagging: Dover
ooc: Scotch: flirts badly while Sami is busy having an existential crisis

Scotch​

Scotch felt a thrill run through her body, from her wrist all the way to her brain, among other places. It was almost enough to drown out the little voice in her head telling her just how much trouble getting involved with Boy could get her in.
But well, having a little fun wouldn’t kill her, would it? (It might)

“Sounds like a deal,” Scotch took Boy’s hand – the correct one, hopefully – in what lingered a little too long to be a business handshake. “Can’t wait to get back and check out your goods,” Scotch grinned and tried very hard to ignore how that sounded much worse out lout than it had in her head. She threw in a wink for good measure, figuring that if anything could sell this disaster of a line, it was confidence.

Then it was back to business, and Scotch did her best to focus on the matter at hand. Watching the sum on the holopad light up, the number declining rapidly until half the credits had been transferred to their accounts didn’t make it all too hard. That was a lot of money.

She threw a glance at Swift who looked like he was dying. They’d have to work on that. The least he could do was show some enthusiasm - she just landed him the job of his lifetime and, by the sound of it, some neat boni as well. ‘Replace what is missing’? She wasn’t sure if Boy dealt in wares such as ‘a sense of humor’ and ‘’an expression besides sour disgruntlement’, but maybe they could work their syndicate magic and conjure something up. And a leg too, while they were at it. It’d probably be nice to get that back.

Swift should count himself lucky, really. Scotch was basically fixing up his life right now.

She was very sad to watch Boy leave. Partly because they had been such charming company, yes, but mostly because of the lecture she knew was coming any second now. She started counting down the seconds as she watched them disappear. 10. 9. 8. 7-
“You’re going to be the death of me. Literally the-“ Ah, there it was. Scotch debated covering her ears, but decided it might look too childish, even for her. “You should be saying ‘Thank you’, you know?” she interjected, trying to talk over his whining. “‘Thank you Scotch for keeping me from fucking up the best deal-“

They were both cut short by his drone who picked this exact moment to join the two. Scotch decided that was enough to put the Tincan on her good side, even though it’s owner certainly wasn’t. She watched Swift do his little routine of talking to the thing, which looked still as ridiculous as it always had, but she kept herself from mocking him about it as she would have in any other situation. She needed to enjoy this moment of peace while it lasted. Couldn’t stop herself from getting at least one jab in though. “You know, from the sound of it, whatever personality you made up for your little friend is a lot more pleasant than yours. How does that work?” Frankly, she didn’t know what the Tincan was like ’in person’, but it always seemed to be bothering Swift in one way or another, so she was pretty sure they’d get along swimmingly. Bummer about that whole ‘figment of his imagination due to his unsettling Tech powers’ thing.

Of course, even her dashing new hero couldn’t divert Swift’s attention for too long. And there he was, back at it again, though his nagging actually provided her with some interesting new info this time.

The chop shop thing? Not her favorite bit of news. Now that Swift mentioned it, she did vaguely remember hearing some rumors about a clinic on Juno. Although most of said rumors had sounded more like horror stories made up by paranoid junkies who were having a bad trip. So they might have some truth to them, huh. Why did her job never take her nice places? They’d have to try to get out of there quick after the delivery was done and hope this Mr.Knife would be content with Boy’s fancy metal container and not try to claim the two flesh containers accompanying it as well.

The organ thing, however, was complete bullshit.

“Come on, Swift. What are you talking about? Do you think the shiny bits of tech and weapons you deal with usually are any better? So maybe there’s a little less blood on them than on the literal organs, sure, but only because someone along the way bothered to wipe it off.” Most of the time, anyway. Scotch had gotten some shipments that were in a… more than questionable condition, speaking from a sanitary standpoint. “And hell, the weapons? Probably the very thing people use to chase down whatever poor sods they’re getting those organs from.” Scotch leant back in her seat, daring Swift to argue with her. “If you wanna start pondering the integrity of this trade you might as well just quit now. Go look for a new job. Maybe you can train your little tin friend here to do tricks and be a street performer.”

She hoped that would shut him up. This was her least favorite kind of conversation to have, so she usually just…refused to have it. But she and Swift would be stuck spending some quality one-on-one time in the cockpit of a spaceship pretty soon, so she’d rather get this over with now, before her only option of escaping a prolonged moral lecture was throwing herself into the infinite expanse of space or throttling the guy.

Speaking of spaceships. “So, wanna keep playing goody two shoes or actually get to work?” She got up, eager to get out of this hovel and even more eager to get this little adventure started, and started walking towards the door. Swift would follow her if he knew what was good for him. “I’m gonna tell you right now: my ship is waiting for us, uhm…” She scratched the back of her head. “At the Docks. Big official ones. My last job was with Nova Traders and they’ve got, you know. Benefits.” Smuggling for Nova allowed for a great deal of flexibility, since they were an ‘upstanding official business’ and all that, so she didn’t have to bother docking at one of the Back Doors to the Citadel and bribing whatever damn corrupt assholes ran it into not selling her ship for parts while she was gone. She had kinda meant to go get it before her next job and station it somewhere more convenient, but. Well. She didn’t.

Once they were outside, Scotch paused for a second, taking out her helmet and watching it unfold with a low electrical hum. She gathered her curls to the best of her ability so they wouldn’t get all up in her face under there and considered, for the third time this week, just cutting them all off at some point. “Hey Swifty, you got something to cover your face while we go retrieve this thing?” They’d have to take it off once they got to the Docks or they might as well be screaming ‘we’re suspicious people’, but for now, a little anonymity seemed like a pretty good idea.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Sir Galahad II

RE: GWEN

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: not sure if she's just relaxing or having a psychotic break but yolo. ps hades please go get that letter so Gwen has an excuse not to be JUST doing things blacklisted by RPN

Classified
Any other day, 'Robert or Rob, whichever', would be claiming this time and place as his deathbed. Thinking about it logically, it should be today especially that Gwen went apeshit on him; she'd been so irrationally riled up about everything else. So she stared back at him, still gripping his hand - tight - and waited for the abject rage to kick in.

Something snapped.

Seconds later, she was doubled over, hand slack on his, clutching her stomach. She couldn't stop laughing. It jsut - and she thought she was having a bad day. This guy was so clueless, he was like one of those middle aged dads in Old Earth shows that didn't know how the internet worked and were so out of touch it was endearing. And this guy- this guy had somehow managed to completely misjudge both herself and Hades all within the space of an hour.

Maybe she was doing alright at this whole living thing after all. "Sorry," she wheezed through her body's programmed breathlessness, overriding it as best she could through sheer willpower. She straightened, pawing the heel of her palm to her eyes to wipe away the moisture pooling there. Fuck, she hadn't laughed that hard in years. "You're just- You're really weird, Rob."

Normally, anyone implying she was a Joybot brought back a nice little bundle of shit that she had no intention of sorting through, but this was the guy who'd hit on Hades so she couldn't take it seriously. Still, after breaking down into hysterics like that in front of him, she'd kind of fucked up on the sultry seductress front. Besides, it seemed too cruel to play a guy like this.

So instead of trying to play it cool, or punch him into tomorrow, she instead put an arm around his shoulder the way she would Kello or someone like that, and grinned - not the charming kind, the zero-effort, lazy, shit-eating grin kind. Her formal tone dropped away right off too. "Not a JoyBot anymore, Robert or Rob. And not called Persephone - word to the wise, people who call me that? They don't look so good afterwards. Unless they're the Emperor's Son and I'd get dismantled and sold for parts if I punched them."

"Come on," she said, giving Rime a passing smile and nod of thanks, her fellow employee just rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "I'll show you who's good. And the actual name is Gwen by the way. Gwen the not JoyBot. Not-" The grin wavered a second. "Not really, anyway." She shook it off in the space of a second, using her grip on him to steer him down the hall to one of the farther private rooms. "Now Pixie, Pixie can dance. If you're looking for someone better hands on, Minthe's- Minthe you should have heard of, if that answers that question."

Stopping outside one of the neon red backlit doors, she tilted her head at the sight of the cyborg Pixie, who acquired her name thanks to the cybernetic fairy wings she'd had implanted on her back, the metal-and-fiber-glass combo glinting in the rotating lights as she did what she did atop the preceding customer's lap. Clicking on the intercom, Gwen called through, "Time's up, session expired." Recognising the voice, Pixie shot a glare back through the door but Gwen was happy to grin and bear it as the previous customer shuffled out.

Glancing back at Robert or Rob, Gwen raised her brows. "So. If I say we split the second girl, how about you agree to pay for tonight's drinks. As a personal apology for your twice-dashed hopes, and my neurotic behavior tonight? Sound fair?" So long as she kept the alcohol intake sensible, she could still be on call for Hades. Even as she grinned and played mates with patron, her earpiece still went blip-blip-blip in her inner ear canal waiting to intake calls.

But today had been one hell of a shit show. Right now? Right now, she was willing to have some fun for once.

 

[s e v e n]

Gabriel O. au Augustus

Location: Citadel, Level 14, Underworld

✢ Interactions:, Future husband Jamie ReverseTex , Hades Collidias Rex
✢ Mentions: Robert Sir Galahad II , Gwen Bang Bang , Lexa
​

​

x

ooc: forgive me if drunk gabriel sounds drunker than usual...if he could, of course. This is, as you know, is typed around 4 AM (and damn I’ve never felt so in character before)

The world is filled with people with bad tastes, Gabriel thought, scowling as he watched the man stood up and leave. If the man had preferred filthy androids over a national treasure as himself, fine. And also, whatever Gwen may be speaking of, he clearly had no recollection of. What did happen last week? Apparently it was not as though he had the chance to ask, however. Gabriel sighed, spinning on his chair to face the counter, considering to get himself yet another final drink for the day. One more, then go home, he said to himself in his head, the same thing he had been saying for the past hour or two. However, considering how late the day was, perhaps for once the male had meant what he said.

The dark haired male was only beginning to rack his brain for whatever he have wanted -extra effort pulled as his brain was fogged enough for him to actually consider ordering things like lemon juice- before from the corner of the room, right by the entrance, his eyes connected with someone else’s. Obviously, a man with a well chiselled face, sharp eyes and well defined muscles covering every inch of hisbodylikedamn- was enough to attract Gabriel’s attention...entirely. Top to bottom. Change of plans- perhaps he could contact Lexa and tell her he’s going to be home late to cover...some business. It was of course, not until the two had reduced in distance when plan B was also, completely obliterated.

As someone who almost literally never stop speaking and has a sass dictionary even wider than the spread of his legs, frankly the only thing he could think of at the moment is fuck- and not that kind of fuck. Gabriel fidgets in his seat, adjusting the hood of his coat to cover his face and quickly averted his gaze. In all honesty, the male had no idea why he felt so anxious over seeing the platinum blonde- Gabriel had deliberately visited his JoyBar for countless of times, too, despite very rarely actually having to encounter him for real. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes...a glance as brief as it was, yet it managed to set an unexplainable weight upon him. Because if that tattletaler motherfucker spills to Zera, then he’s fucked for real. But who was his name again?

The suddenness in the voice of the host, Hades, however, was one that managed to startle him from his intense focus of trying to disappear. He glanced towards Hades, completely forgetting of the presence of the white haired one who was quite literally next to him, and feigned an insulted look. Why was he even defending such a lowly being? As though androids could feel insulted.

“Perhaps a more proper treatment for someone who quite literally pays for most of your daily expenses for hair product, thank you very much,” retorted Gabriel, perhaps not the first and definitely not the last time he was going to take advantage of the fact that he was one of Underworld’s most loyal customers. And of course, Hades’ hair is just marvelous. “And for the record,” the male raised a shaky finger, tilting in his seat slightly before he managed to shift and regain his balance. “I am not as think as you drunk I am.”

Gabriel turned, clearly at this point ready to depart for the day. How? That would be an entirely new matter to think of when he at least exits the club. Improvisation should be the key, after all. It was of course, not until he heard yet a new voice behind him, and little did he notice that the white haired man has emerged before to him, as though an enchantment of an ethereal being. Or perhaps simply like Hera.

Oh please. You’re gorgeous, we get it. Can you stop talking? he had wanted to say, but somehow an unknown power held himself back from doing so. Perhaps he did have too much to drink, perhaps he needed to head back hours ago. And did this man just quite literally say his name?

“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy...who sounds like such an extraordinary guy, by the way. I’m Gabriel- I mean Jacob. Jacob Grey. And you must be...” Gabriel furrowed his brows, in deep thought as he digged down through his memory, the smallest bits, the most insignificant-

“Jamie Oliver,” he murmured, before nodding to himself in certainity, clearly looking satisfied of himself. No Gabe. Self control.

“Well, Mr. Oliver, as charming as you are, I think I must go now...” Gabriel began, rising from his seat. “And do not even tempt me with offers such as free drinks. Or something more than that, though if you do want it I won’t refuse- wait,” he frowned, turning despite initially already heading for the exit. “Did you just hit on me?”

​

​

​

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To: Nobody, as of yet

RE: JEAN

Location: The Docks
Bureau Notes: Pls do not kill Jem I just want her doing stuff

Classified
"So ..." Allistair shifted uncomfortably.

"You'd think they'd have come up for air by now." Jean smiled awkwardly beneath her helmet. She desperately wished she had a collar to tug on, just so a passerby wouldn't get the wrong idea. On the bright side, at least they couldn't see the tinge of scarlet blooming across her cheeks. "The set of lungs on these two, huh?"

Three armed agents standing guard around a suspicious couple was perhaps out of the ordinary for a casual traveler, but anyone who spent enough time on the docks had seen it at least once. An unusual face, a suspicious walk, a peculiar bulge hidden at the bottom of a trouser leg, an Agent could stop damn near anyone for any number of perceived offences. Now, three armed agents standing guard around a couple while they snogged the life out of each other was ... a bit of an outlier.

"Sir," Jean coughed. The other two agents had averted their eyes a little, but Jean didn't have that luxury on account of her particular situation, and had partially hidden herself behind Allistair, shielding her figurative eyes behind the taller agent. She could see people glance her way as they parted around the group, some daring eye contact with her helmet for a fleeting second. Even those who did their best to ignore her, she could feel them. An awkward, embarrassing warmth spread down her arms and back. She could hear chatter and mirth all around her, but her immediate vicinity had fallen to an eerie hush punctuated by nothing but tinny footsteps on steel, the huffing of anxious breathing and the wet, slopping noises of tongues dancing together - the latter courtesy of the amorous couple in question. Jean had grown accustomed to being surrounded, and of course she was accompanied by her impromptu neighbours-turned-for-the-day-partners to keep her anchored in the sea of bodies ... but the situation in front of her made her feel uncomfortably claustrophobic all the same.

"Sir," Jean repeated, "I'm afraid we really do need to ID you. It's only going to take a moment."

And then you two can resume carnalities and continue devouring one other. Jean rolled her eyes beneath her helmet. She knew she would have to deal with some crazy things with The Passing occurring so abruptly, but spontaneous displays of fiery, physical passion was not among those anticipated things.

"I'm getting sick of this." The third agent grumbled and strolled forward, dropping his rifle so it dangled from its sling. "Hey, lovebirds! Knock it off!" He thrust his hands into the tangle of groping and caressing, and unceremoniously pried the two apart like a great, muscular crowbar.

Jean didn't like prying apart loving couples; in fact, there were plenty of facets to her job that left a lot to be desired, but she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. She couldn't afford to pick and choose enamored lovebirds, chubby-faced rapscallions and charming rogues with hearts of gold to slip through the cracks. The Agency relied on an airtight system to function, and a crack was all it took for hell to break loose.

The third agent - a broad and impatient fellow by name of "Arthur" - dragged the nobleman by the wrist. The man writhed and uttered threats of this and that, tipping and stumbling after the stoney-faced agent, but the stoic irritation carved firmly into Arthur's face did not waver.

"Allistair." Arthur halted before his fellows and jabbed the man's hand toward them, yanking him another step forward. "Scan him."

"I was already scanned on the bloody way in!" The nobleman barked, jerking his hand ineffectually against Arthur's grip. "Have you lost your damn minds?"

"In our defense, Sir ..." Jean bit down on her lip. Effin' noblemen and their arrogance. "You are acting very suspiciously, and we're dutifully bound to investi-"

"Plttt!"

He spat on her.

...

A long, tense silence bridged the four.

The three agents had individually found themselves fingering the trigger-guards of their automatic rifles, and the nobleman seemed to have very abruptly sobered, given the way he was glancing wide-eyed between the three agents.

Listen up, shithead. Jean took a deep breath in. Do that again, and I'll put my foot so far up your ass that you'll taste every step I took from home-to-here for a fucking week. Jean smiled beneath her helmet.

"Sir ..." Jean lamented in a slow, sing-song voice that filtered through gritted teeth. "You're acting very strangely. I would suggest allowing us to scan you, we will be as quick as we can, and then we can all be on our way." The barrel of her gun lifted, slightly but meaningfully.

You fucking nobjockey. She added mentally. She no longer felt sad for Arthur pulling the two courtiers apart. Now, if the nobleman had tripped and fell purely by accident, well ... as a professional, Jean should not let herself laugh at that ... but under her helmet, nobody would have known. Hypothetically speaking, o'course.

Unfortunately, the nobleman seemed to calm down at her very polite suggestion, warranting no further roughhousing. Arthur yanked up the man's sleeve while Allistair swept the scanner across the man's exposed wrist.

Allisair's brow hardened, but his eyes remained glued to the screen as the results transferred back-and-forth to HQ.

"He's clean." Allistair slid the scanner into his pocket.

Arthur threw Allistair a skeptical glance, as if begging that the scanner had been mistaken. Allistair glared at his partner, then nodded gently to the nobleman's hand. A flash of anger cross Arthur's face for only a moment before he released the nobleman's wrist, giving the man a shove on his way for good measure.

"You're free to go." Arthur began walking in the opposite direction, muttering and cursing beneath his breath as he gripped his rifle against his chest. Allistair shot Jean a questioning glance, but Jean made no effort to respond. She turned, hiked up her own rifle and fell in behind Arthur.

"Hey." Jean placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. He was a good half-foot taller than her, so it was a bit of a stretch. "Chin up, bug guy. A fella like that's gonna piss off the wrong person sooner or later. He's gonna turn his back on the wrong guy, and someone's gonna wipe that smug, satisfied look right off his face." For emphasis, Jean wrapped her other arm in front of him and lifted two fingers under his chin. He stared straight ahead, but she saw his lip quiver and twitch upward at the edge, struggling to suppress a smirk. "There ya go." She smiled, gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, then patted his back before releasing him.

She'd love to fall in beside him, pelt him with jokes and quips to cheer him up. It didn't do any good to dwell on that kinda stuff. But she couldn't - not for long, anyway. She had appearances to keep up - a fact she was constantly reminded of, courtesy of her uniform black armor. All oracles looked the same - that was absolutely intentional. Black, impersonal, no visible skin - all fragments of a greater omniscient presence. Unidentifiable.

Well ... unidentifiable save for one thing. Oracle dress code never mentioned anything about hair. A snowy white veil of hair cascaded from her helmet and down the back of her neck, resting just on her shoulders.

"I hope it's not all going to be like that." Allistair remarked as he scanned the crowd, following a few feet behind Jean. "... but I'm not optimistic. Come on, we should check 1-13 again, we haven't been around there in three-quarters-an-hour."

 

[Sir Galahad II]

Incoming File ...
To: Bang Bang Collidias Rex , Mentions: s e v e n

RE: ROBERT HANCOCK

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: Gabe has been #EXPOSED

ClassifiedRobert looked terribly confused for a moment, even more than he had been before. Why was she laughing? Did he say something funny? In response to her remark, all he could say was, "...okay?" She surprised him by suddenly turning casual, as if they were drinking buddies or something. It was a welcome change, however. Despite being a tad disappointed after hearing she wasn't a joybot, he wasn't terribly distraught by it. Plenty of androids, he thought. Something told him Gwen wasn't the romantic type anyway.

So Persephone wasn't her name. Why was she called that, then?

The pieces started to fit together. Despite being clueless sometimes, Rob had 124 years of wisdom behind him. She specifically mentioned the emperor's son. She said anyone who wasn't him wouldn't look so good. And she didn't do anything to the man who he was with... was Jason Gray actually the emperor's son? Come to think of it, he did look somewhat familiar... no matter. He didn't care about that man's misadventures at the moment.

Appreciating the little tour, he followed Gwen. Her expression seemed to falter a little, which confused him once again. So much history he didn't know about... After hearing her offer, he considered it for a moment. She was being awfully generous to him tonight, especially after the egregious error he had accidentally made.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize. Hell, I should be apologizing for getting your name wrong. But since you're offering..." he said, smiling.

Then it hit him.

"Wait. Twice dashed?"

 

[Dover]

location: Shadow District
tagging: Scotch Mourning Dove
mentions: Boy Bang Bang | Jem Collidias Rex (second to last paragraph)
ooc: in which Sami attempts to defend his honor after nearly throwing up from fear

Sami 'Swift' Tanyag​

A thank you. Scotch wanted a thank you. He would have laughed if the threat of Boy, and Mr. Knife, and the rest of that nightmare wasn't lingering ominously over his head. Face still in his hands, Sami looked at her through parted fingers. Well, of course she wanted a thank you. Reckless, insane people always wanted thanks for the horrible things they did and acted like they'd done you a great favour to boot. He supposed he'd have to put himself in that category too now of insane, reckless people, because he was actually considering doing this job rather than throwing himself in the Wastes, where it would probably be safer.

He nearly cringed as Scotch brought up Dolly's personality. He placed his hands back on the table.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Sami lied. He knew, of course, what people said about Techs—that they gradually lost their marbles with sustained use of their abilities. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Dolly still butting herself into him. Maybe they were right, maybe Techs were off their collective rockers, but it just didn't feel like that was all that there was going on. There were whispers in machines and computers that non-Techs just didn't realize. The proof of that was in androids and AIs. Even Dolly II had a little bit of something, though her mental class was probably at a solid Z. Did Z mental classes even exist for AIs? If they did, she was it.

"First of all," Sami began as Scotch rattled off her accusations, "I deal in tech, not weapons. That time with you doesn't count, because it was your job, and I had no damn idea we were carting around illegal weaponry until we were part way through, so don't even try to pin that on me. And secondly, I'm not trying to act all high and mighty. I just... don't like the organ trade, alright? On the scale of things that are going to draw a lot of attention, organ trade is pretty high up there."

Tiredly, he pinched the bridge of his nose. A withdrawal headache from hell was coming on soon. He could sense it. Next to him, Dolly had finally managed a steady hover.

You're going to get the shakes soon.

Sami ignored her.

"I'm not quitting," he growled. "You kidding? If I took off after being paid, Boy's lackeys would be on me in a minute. Can't believe you got me into this." With Dolly right on his tail, Sami followed Scotch out of the StimHaunt. "I'm coming, I'm coming." The pounding music of the establishment faded to a dull hum behind the closed door.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, listening with mild frustration as Scotch detailed where her ship was. Must be nice to have so many perks with the Nova Traders. He'd run a few jobs for them himself, but it was mostly small-time stuff. The focus of his network was more on transport between the Citadel and Juno. "I can get into the Docks if that's what you're trying to say. Won't be a problem." That they'd have to go on Scotch's ship was really the cherry on his misery cake. He'd rather smuggle himself in a cargo ship than this.

"Been in the game a while, Scotch. 'Course I've got something." Sami rolled his eyes, fished into the tattered satchel he had slung over his shoulder, and pulled out a mask, wiggling it for Scotch to see. In the Shadow District, people could get away with wearing masks wherever they went. A good chunk of people on the streets wore them. You had a fifty-fifty shot at whether it was a Noblus or a fellow criminal under one of those masks.

"Dolly," he said, rapping her side with his knuckles, "Camo." With a whirring noise, Dolly II's camouflage came back up, making her nothing more than an easily ignorable shimmer in the air if it weren't for one flickering plate. Sami gave the offending plate a few knocks on the side, and it followed suit with the rest.

"And Scotch? Can we not storm in and grab the cargo first thing? Let's just get on your ship and then figure out how we're going to move a box the size of a coffin without being seen." Ugn. He really did not like that comparison. Too on the nose for what was probably in there. With one last warning look at Scotch, Sami brought his hand up and the grey, metallic plates of his mask unfolded to snugly grip the sides of his head.

"We'll, vacuum tube up, okay? I can trick the SAI into thinking we're just regular citizens," he said, his voice slightly muffled with the mask. Sami tapped his arm where his MG implant was but didn't bring the interface up. "Agency's bound to be making their rounds again soon, and I don't want to get caught between levels. Especially if they've got an Oracle with them." He'd run into one once while making a drop. Some lady with platinum blonde hair and an impressive piece of tech that'd he love to get his hands on one day. Well, he'd like to if it wouldn't put a massive target on his back.

"There's one that's not used much nearby. Come on." Waving Scotch to follow him, Sami headed for the vacuum tube, ready to scramble it the second they got there so they could make a quick jump. He was pretty sure he was going to regret this whole thing very soon.

 

[ReverseTex]

Jamie au Olver

Location: The Underworld-The Agency Bang Bang s e v e n

Jamie stood motionless as he watched Gabriel’s reaction, pure amusement plastered on his face. His drunken state only made it more humorous for him to watch, claiming he was not in fact the Emperors son and that he was some lowlife. Just as the man stood to leave, he gently grabbed the man’s shoulder and tucked his head down to his ear to whisper. “Don’t try and play me a foul Gabriel... My offer still stands, and maybe you’ll get a backstage pass eh?” Leaving the man with those words, he sauntered from the grotesque Joybar and was quickly engulfed by his private guards. Allowing his guards to lead him to their next destination, Jamie dispatched into a distant memory...


“Silly Olver, you should’ve yelled when you had the bloody chance... Now look at you... Pathetic.” Jamie laid crumbled on the ground, bleeding profusely from a multitude of wounds, his razor laid feet from him. His hands were consumed by holding his wounds, trying desperately to not bleed out. “You have no power, no land, and no girl. I should just kill you now, you’re already bleeding like a stuck pig!” Gurgling a mouthful of blood as he stood, he stopped over to grab his razor, his other hand holding his shoulder with a death grip. He just wanted this to end... He loved Shereen dearly, but this... Her whimpering behind her new promised helped very little. If she loved him, she wouldn’t have sentenced him to die. But yet here he stood, well... The sound of a painful scream, and the burning sensation of sliced and burnt flesh from the razors blade filled Jamie’s chest as he crumbled to the group for the final blow....


“Sir? Sir!” Jamie snapped from his flashback to see his guards paused, now currently standing within the lobby of the agency. “Captain Ariel is awaiting you sir.”


[/user]

 

[CerpinTaxt]

Incoming File ...
To: Mourning Dove Dover Collidias Rex (small mention)

RE: EYE

Location: Docks, Citadel
Bureau Notes: Hope this is entertaining.


Classified



"Yes?...Thank you, Mr.Red. You do your job, and I do mine. I'll be sure to send a fitting gift as appreciation for your assistance." A flat, almost bored sounding voice spoke out into a small communicator before it was lowered and hidden away into a small pocket of the man who had been just finished speaking into it. Slowly, the man rose his head up to look across at the Docks a few meters away from himself and then around it. Twenty minutes would certainly more than enough time.

Clearing his throat, the man bent down and picked up the briefcase he'd lowered onto the ground just a few minutes ago before adjusting his large coat with his free hand. Wordlessly he made his way to the Docks, making his way through one of the smaller entrances(the bar code scanner allowing him easy access) and down a flight of stairs that were off to the side. His steps were slow and methodical, not a misstep or stumble as he calmly made his way down the stairs. The only noise filling the stairs were the loud echoes of the tap tap tap of his shoes connecting with the stairs. He noted a few Agents were dealing what looked to be a couple nobles when he arrived. Whether Red had sent the message to the Oracle among them was yet to be seen.

Tap

Tap

Tap

Tap

Tap

-

"Hey, you get that message just now?"

"What? No, what message?" The man gave the other guard a strange look before tossing his cigarette off into one of the less well-lit areas of the Dock. Whatever message the other guy had talked about, he sure hadn't gotten it. "Was it important? Maybe they just wanted to talk to you, or just fire you. Probably fire you, with how you work!" He couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh, much to the others displeasure.

"No- Hey, shut up!" His coworker shot back at him, his fists clenched with anger. "Man..whatever!" He threw his hands up into the air and rolled his eyes. "It's a meeting man! Some sort of emergency, called by one of the big wigs themselves apparently! Look, everyone's making their way to head down to the board room as we speak!" He grabbed his coworker by the shoulder and pointed to the other side of the docks, where a small group of people were heading off to the stairway close to them. "And up there!" Another finger pointing, another group of security heading to an apparent emergency meeting. "We should get going man, you know it's a real bitch to fit in that room."

The demeanor of the older of the two quickly changed as he noticed coworker after coworker were heading to an apparent meeting that he had no clue about. An emergency meeting no less! Why wasn't he informed? Was there something wrong with him? Was he going to get fired?! He could feel his heart racing in his chest from the paranoia. No..No that's just silly. "I-Just go on without me man. They probably don't want us all there, right?" Right? "So just..yeah, go on without me. If it turns out they need me um..tell them I had to make a little pitstop to the restroom. Just tell them it was Chili day for me yesterday. They'll definitely understand."

That was that for the two as they reluctantly parted ways, the older man decided to patrol around to make up for the sudden lack of manpower. It would help get his mind off the unannounced meeting as well, which was the most important part. He walked aside the various shipping containers, his mind less on where he was going and more on where he probably should be. Why was he so paranoid? He hadn't done anything wrong so he couldn't possibly be in trouble! Maybe it was just someone being pro-

CLANG

The abrupt sound of something striking one of the containers caught the man off guard, causing him to let out an abrupt yelp and jump. What was that?! He peered around where the noise had came from, noting it sounded like it came from one of the larger containers. One that was in a relatively unlit area. He took a deep, shaky breath and grabbed the flashlight from his belt and turned the light on before continuing. His free hand rested on the holster of his baton, almost clutching onto it with dear life as he walked into the dark. This job was too damn creepy.

His heart was beginning to race again as he got closer to the corner of the container, his heart racing faster. Faster. Faster. "Ahhh!" He yelled out a battle cry and released his baton as he leaped forward in an attempt to catch the potential offender off guard and startle them. Maybe they'd be just as terrified as he was! He shone his flashlight frantically around just to find...nothing? He couldn't help but sigh in relief at the revelation. Maybe it was just something falling inside one of the containers..yeah. Yeah that was most certainly it.

Then he felt something wrap around his throat, and his feet kicked out from under him.

"Agh!" He choked out, his thoughts forgetting all of his training and kicking into survival. He grabbed at the wire around his throat with no luck before attempting to blindly swing and strike at whoever was behind him. He wasn't dying for this job, there was more to life than this! Every passing moment, his lungs were crying out louder and louder for air, increasing the pain in his chest more and more. His vision was beginning to blur and he could feel his body begin to go numb.

He thought he felt something prick his neck, but he was out of energy now. Even as the unseen assailant removed the wire from his neck and allowed him to breath once more he felt..tired? So very tired. He could probably just take a quick nap here..right? He'd tell the others about this...wait...tell them about what?

Where was he again?

-

Mr. Eye carefully slid the wire back into his coat, his other hand holding the now empty syringe. Its use had been fulfilled and was swiftly returned to the confines of his briefcase before it was closed once more. Eye opened the container the man now laid next to, pulling the guard inside before shutting it. His coworkers would most certainly find him later. Eye picked up his briefcase and adjusted his tie, his dull red gloves contrasting with the monotone colors of his suit and coat. The rest of the way to Mr.Knife's container would be no trouble at all to get to.

Not long after, Eye had found the container he was looking for. He picked up one of the smaller containers nearby, pulling it up so he could sit next to the Mr.Knife's package. Slowly he took his seat and turned on his holopad. He leaned back to rest against a wall as he flicked the screen on. A few taps on the screen had brought him to what he was looking for. His book. Page 532, out of 1160. It wasn't one big story as he had believed when he purchased it, instead being a collection of smaller stories. The author's name was Lovecraft, which wasn't a name Eye would give, but his writing was quite good. He would merely wait here until the Movers arrived. While it was true he was reading, he wasn't as distracted as he looked.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Those about to depart from the docking platforms, mentions of Underworld, and Sir Galahad II who's mention of fallout is 99% to blame for the framing device.

RE: EVENING

Location: Citadel Diamond Station
Bureau Notes: everything's fine

Classified

Transcription of Citadel Diamond Station - Recorded: 10:02​

Broadcaster One:

Welcome back back folks, that was 'Uranium Fever' by Elton Britt - Can't beat a classic.

We're just settling in for the night here at Citadel Diamond Station folks, the lights are down, and what a day it has been.

Broadcaster Two:
And that's putting it lightly, George.​

Broadcaster One:

We've been getting calls all day from you dear listeners reporting all kinds of strangeness. Dally from Level ten is still calling us, thrice a day, to inform us she can hear something rattling about in the air ventilation system.

Broadcaster Two:

Meanwhile Louis from level four's been reporting of record numbers of firearm sales. ​

Broadcaster One:

Can't say I blame folks; The Agency tells us that crime rates today have been fifteen times this months average, with the district wide fire on level six being the worst mass damage we've seen since the Wastes Impact.

Broadcaster Two:
And that's not to mention the reports we've had of our strangest guests here on the Citadel. After not being seen for two years, over seven Mr.s have been sighted today, and that's just the ones we've heard about.​

Broadcaster One:

But you can always expect rumors to get out of hand when-

Broadcaster Two:
Three were reported to be seen leaving the nightclub Syn this afternoon, and have since been seen watching the entrance to Underworld. I guess even the Mr.s need to party right, Ed?​

Broadcaster One:

You know who else was also sighted down there? Jamie au Olver himself.

Broadcaster Two:

Well a JoyBar extraordinaire is hardly a surprise in a JoyBar. But as for these Mr.s, we've had over five reports of missing individuals all from areas in which the suits have been appearing. So far, D-

*static*

Broadcaster Two:

-haven't been seen since. Not only that but- Ah, Management's knocking, folks. We'll be back with more strange stories to keep you up this night, after the break. Here's Skeeter Davis with 'The End of the World'. ​

[Break]​

Broadcaster One:

Welcome back folks, that was Ray Smith with 'Right Behind You Baby'. Space Weather's looking rocky tonight with predicted highs of force forty meteor showers and the Urava electric storm setting in from the West.

Broadcaster Three:
If you're thinking of heading out tonight folks, maybe leave it till the 'morrow.
​

Broadcaster One:

Right you are, George - The Department of Travel has issued a level five transport warning for all standard size cruisers tonight.

Broadcaster Three:
Next up, here's Nyuna reporting on The Passing. Find out who our experts say will be our next Emperor, and how can you do your part during these difficult times. ​

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: ReverseTex , mentions RyanDiaz , Rainzen

RE: ARIEL

Location: Agency Training Facilities, Market Levels
Bureau Notes: Bella from the sidelines invading this post

Classified
Ariel did not consider herself a violent person; Nonetheless, the only thing that distracted her from bad news was shooting the ever loving crap out of something. Down in the depths of the Agency's shooting range, she was presently on target number forty, two hours into mindlessly firing the trigger over and over until the thermal clip overheated. Dislodge, reload, start again. Head, heart, stomach, repeat.

It being evening, the range was deserted save for herself and Beta, whom she'd powered down into sleep mode for the area - There was only so much 'You have unread messages, Captain' that she could take. Especially since it was thanks to the last one that she was down here in the first place.

Atop the ledge of her booth in the range, her holopad remained open and on. The message from Isabel au Saara flickered on and off, riddled with glitches and slowly disintegrating further - the woman might be tech illiterate, but she clearly employed enough people who weren't; Ariel had only just managed to save the dregs of it before the self-wiping virus kicked in and destroyed all chance of tracing it back to the Counsellor. Asshole.

Ripping her noise cancelers off, Ariel shut the pad down and set about cleaning up. It didn't matter - au Saara couldn't prove anything. Not so long as Ariel kept her people loyal and au Olver kept them well paid to secure the former requirement.

Treading to the back of the range, she stacked her weapons back up and listened without paying attention to the radio station overhead. Someone had left it on the shoddy gossip channel, Diamond Station, and the usual conspiracy theories were running overhead. A dozen people reported alien sightings in the vents. There was something wrong with the water - there was always something wrong with the water.

Idiots, Ariel thought without kindness. Plenty of shit going on without you needing to make anything up.

Reruns of the political rundown assured her that Emperor Zera was in excellent health and would endure until the correct decision could be made. Even the gossip stations had to be careful on that front. They sang the praises of House au Defrel - Nova Traders were excellent sponsors - and even House au Steele were in the running.

No mention of au Olver. A passing joke about the JoyEmperor, and that was it.

Locking up the weapons cabinet, she just prayed she was making the right choice. Heading up to her office, she paged through to let reception know she was awaiting the very man who could well be on the verge of getting her killed. The very same radio station was playing out from her desk's speakers - no doubt the work of Beta playing vengeance for silencing her.

 

[KnightSergeant]

Incoming File ...

To: No one in particular

RE: LC-A7C4 “Brutus”

Location: Level 11, Esha Sector, 33rd Street

Bureau Notes: Money makes the world go round.



Classified
It was curious how clear the air was in the merchant districts, not so clear that he could catch things at his farthest range of visions but with a notable absence of the thick air that plagued the shadow districts just two levels below. Two levels, the difference between clean air and having to replace your ventilation system every other month. Breaking from their train of thought they raised their head a few degrees to get a better look at the people around them from under the folds of their hood. The crowd was mainly humans, hands he presumed, dressed in worn clothes and dark jackets to hide their true intentions. There were a few that proudly wore the colors of their masters, though in their mind that was the quickest way to get whatever you were sent to fetch stolen. The closest one to him had a few unidentifiable bags that seemed to be laden with heavy goods, and the thought of simply taking it and making his way back down into the lower levels crossed his processors. It only took a millisecond to decide that petty crime was above him. ‘theft for theft is the rule of the pigs’. The words flashed across his visuals as the thought flashed through his mechanical brain.

Fed up with himself now he slowly pushed his way through the throngs of people consumed with a need to consume and slipped into an alleyway between two towering buildings – though most of the buildings were towering. One had a dull green face that was styled in such a way so that roused images of Victorian style building, though he was sure it had only been built in the last 50 years. Nostalgia for a time that most people living in the citadel had not even experienced second hand seemed to be a theme throughout the planet. Another trait of weakness he supposed. The alley way was thin and long, hardly allowing him a good three or four inches from his shoulders to the wall, adorned with grey pipes that ran the length before suddenly jutting down and disappearing into the wet ground. By the doors that broke the monotonous march of ‘brick’ and metal were overfilled trashcans that had been neglected to be taken to the front of the building for one reason or another.

One such black trash bag rolled over to reveal a pile of maggots feasting on what he could only presume was a dead cat, its matted auburn hair now a dark orange with blood, as he walked up the short steps to the door, knocking three times with a curt rapport. There was a moment of inactivity as he simply stood there, holding his position with most of his body hidden under the cloak. In the distance he could still hear the cacophony of sound that rose from the market fronts but he had long ago categorized it as background noise and had his sub-active systems idly combing it for irregularities to which there were none. Still, his guard did not drop even slightly until he heard a ruckus rising from inside the house, things being knocked over and the heavy pattering of footsteps against hard wood. Not three seconds after this stopped did the door swing open, hinges squealing loudly in protest at the sudden motion.

An man in his fifties, 57 according to his personal records, greeted the door with a confused expression, his bushy eyebrows furrowed and his eyes obviously straining to see into the dark opening of the hood. He was a wide man, with a round belly and stocky limbs anxiously fitted with small nubby fingers, and could not have stood higher than five foot three on his best day. His matte brown hair and white had receded quite a lot over the years and the thick moustache that seemed to have crawled onto his lip quivered anytime he moved his lips. After a few second of letting the man work out who this was standing at his door and failing LC-A7C4 finally spoke, his voice taking a cheery almost jolly tone as he threw out his arms in exasperation.

“Come on Slovick! You didn’t forget about me now did you?”

Making sure that no one was looking down the alleyway, the hulking figure slowly pulled the hood of his jacket down, revealing his large metallic head, visor gleaming as he watched the expression of the man contort at the speed of a tortoise, fear replacing the previous expression in full despite the old man’s attempt at hiding it with a thin, shaky smile. A few beeps sounded out as he jammed his fingers on some panel beside the doorframe and the low hum that had been hidden in the other background noise suddenly dropped with a high pitched ‘wamp’. Frantically, the older man waved the other to come in before scampering off down the dimly lit hallway leading into the kitchen directly across from the door. Slowly stepping in he pulled off his coat to reveal his tall metal frame, draping the large brown jacket on the hook hanging on the other side of the door frame before slowly closing the door behind him with a resounding click. To the left of the foyer was a staircase that went up a few inches before making a ninety-degree turn and disappearing further up, - those were the bedrooms, where the man’s daughter was probably working out her schoolwork - to the right was a small living room with a stone-grey couch positioned beside a bright green door and a large, antique looking trunk.

With these options in mind he sauntered down the hallway, looking around the kitchen for a second before pulling out a chair at the small table and sitting down. It was a glossy oak table that could fit probably seven people if you squeezed one on either end, most of the surface covered up by a thick quilt, machine made from what he could tell, with a dying Orchid floating in grimy water as the centerpiece. The exasperated sigh of the man as he waddled back into the room from his office brought LC-A7C4’s attention from the décor to him with heavily expectant body language hanging over him.

“What is the matter.” The android cooed curiously, savage intention dancing between his words. This seemed to calm the other at least enough for them to take a few tentative steps forward towards the table, eyes flicking to the side a few times before he finally spoke up.

“I don’t have it…” He croaked, words drifting off into a mumble near the the end.

“Sorry I could not quite understand you, can you repeat yourself.” His voice was now calmer, less expressive, and carried a different weight. The man almost flinched when he heard it, taking a small step backwards before steeling himself and holding his ground.

“I…I don’t have the money.”

There was a pause, a silence as the two of them just existed in their churning emotions. Despite the anger that was swelling in his chest he slowly pushed the chair back, the wooden feet thunking as they ran over the floor. Gently tapping his knuckle on the table he stood up to his full height, head swiveling to stare Slovick in the eyes.

“That’s completely fine, I understand the lower markets have come on hard times recently.”

An expression of relief washed over the man and he let out a loud sigh as his fears were suddenly released from his shoulders. He looked physically like he had just been released of a terrible secret.

“But…I cannot go without payment. It’s a matter of…precedence, I’m sure you can understand when I say this is not personal but you are a cog and the machine has to keep running. Your daughter will cover your payment, maybe even for two months.” His robotic voice echoed the room and he did not stay to watch the man suddenly drop to the floor with a heavy thump, his face wrought with distress. The way he spoke was understanding and almost sorrowful, as if he had just said he couldn't make to a friends wedding or couldn't help them find their lost dog, which, in all honesty, probably made it worse for the old man. It was pathetic how easily he gave up, buckled under the pressure. He was rewarded with the sight of his men pushing their way through the door and making their way upstairs when he turned around and the sound of a shrill screams as he walked down the hallway, grabbing the jacket and slipping it on before stepping outside and pulling out a small electronic and crossing Slovacks name off a list. Four more until he can go back home.

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: Jussst outside the Docks
tagging: Dover
ooc: I stole Bangs "swifty boy" it was too good not to use

Scotch​

Oh yeah, the weapon thing had been on her, hadn’t it? Funny how she’d managed to forget about that, after Swift had spent the entire remainder of that job glaring daggers at her. Well, her point still stood. Mostly.

And he was right, for once. Smuggling organs could be pretty shitty. “S’not my favorite either,” Scotch admitted reluctantly. “Too many things to watch out for. And they’re a pain to transport.” They shouldn’t be, really- there was sufficiently advanced cooling and packaging tech around – but some employers got sloppy, especially those new to the business. And though she was really only the middle man, it was always her who ended up getting yelled at about soggy organs. Go figure.
She doubted they’d have to worry about that though. Not while working for Boy.

“Eh. I’ll be fine. We’ll be back in no time.” Scotch put on her most obnoxious smirk. “You’ve got me with you, after all.” Organs or not, this was just another job. And if Scotch felt a little queasy about the fact that the things in that container had once belonged to a human being, despite her best efforts not to dwell on the thought, Swift would be the last person she’d tell.

Though Swift seemed preoccupied with his own business. Scotch noticed him pinching the bridge of his nose, and once she started looking, she noticed the other stuff too - the general restlessness, the way he kept running his hand over his face. She could take a pretty good guess at what that meant, even ignoring the fact that she’d found him in a literal StimHaunt. She’d seen these signs before. Plenty of times.

She kept watching him as they made their way outside and he put his mask on, even forgetting to throw in a jab about how he’d look so much better with his default grumpy glare hidden beneath it. When he started suggesting she would want to do such a thing as ‘just storm in’ however, she knew she had to step up and defend her honor. “I have no clue how you got the idea that I would ever want do such a thing.” She did. There may have been some prior instances of her ‘storming in’, as Swift put it, but only at moments when it seemed appropriate. Necessary, even. And some occasions where she got impatient. “Don’t even try to bring up that one time in the Shadow Markets. If I hadn’t kicked in that door when I did, we’d still be waiting in that fucking back alley today.”

“And anyway, I’ve got it all figured out already. This may shock you, Swifty, but there are in fact parts of the Docks that have been specifically designed for loading huge heavy cargo onto ships. Give me jussst a second.” She pulled out her holopad and hoped Swift wouldn’t notice how crappy and flickery it was. Her old one had broken, and the one she got to replace the week after had… broken too, actually. This one was kind of a last resort she found lying around on her ship under a box full of microchips she didn’t remember the origin of.

Scotch cheered inwardly when the holopad started up on the first try and went to work, put in the shipment number Boy had given them and pulled up the location info. She gave a small hum. “Lucky us. It’s being stored at the Docks.” If it had been elsewhere in the storage system, they would have had to use one of the storage asset points to retrieve it. There were plenty of those at the Docks, but with the whole city abuzz after the news earlier today, who knew how long they would have had to wait. “Isn’t that nice of Boy? It’s right there, waiting for us to go get it. Well, you’ll do that part. I’ll get in my ship and bring it around to the shipping containers, whip out the loading ramp, and then we’ll just carry the thing right in there.” Scotch hoped the thing would be light enough for them to carry. She’d rather not have to rent one of the docks’ labor bots to help them.

When Swift brought up the vacuum tubes, Scotch wanted to object for a second. She’d gotten used to travelling around the Citadel by foot when she was working. The less data those assholes up top had on her, the better. But now, she had Swift. “Right. I almost forgot how useful your little tricks can be.” She didn’t know how exactly his Tech stuff worked, but he probably wouldn’t have to strain himself too much on her account, her being a Hands and all that. If he could make her be just another ’regular citizen’ instead of ‘Scotch’ though, that’d be quite neat.

And if the tubes kept them from running into any Oracles, all the better. They kind of freaked her out.

They walked in silence for a bit. Scotch kept a lookout for any suspicious activity, of which there was plenty – these were the Shadow Districts – but no one seemed to be following them. Her gaze fell back to Swift. “You know,” she started, hand reaching up to scratch the back of her neck before she remembered she was wearing her helmet, “once we’re on the ship, things should be quiet for a while. I’m sure we’ll get some time to, uhm, relax.” And for him to get his fix. Scotch nodded to herself. Yep, that situation was dealt with.

She watched him work his magic on the tube when they arrived, understanding just as little about how it worked when he was done as when he had started. But work it did and up they went. Scotch squinted a little when they stepped out onto Level One. She always forgot just how dim it actually was down in the Shadow Districts once her eyes got used to the darkness, but in comparison, the light up here was positively blinding. She wished she could keep on her helmet with it’s tinted front panel just a bit longer, but it’d really be no fun getting held up by security the moment they entered the docks.

“So, you ready, Swifty Boy?” They were almost at the entrance. Scotch felt that familiar feeling of anticipation swell up in her gut and tingle in her fingertips. The promise of adrenaline. For now, she’d have to try and look relaxed though. “Smile a little. We’re just a friendly pair of workers trying to load a piece of cargo on our ship, after all.”

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To:

RE: JEAN

Location: Docks
Bureau Notes: So, how's about that airport food?

Classified
"Hold up-" Allistair stopped

"Problem?" Jean stopped and half-turned toward the man behind her. His head was cocked to an angle and his eyes were fixed on one point, but his brow wandered and shifted, dynamic as if reacting to something that Jean couldn't see. Right - his communicator. That was it.

"Well, this is sudden." Allistair righted himself. "Emergency meeting."

"That's ... definitely sudden." Jean remarked. "Whose cereal did you shit in this time? Wait, it wasn't that asshole five minutes ago, was it? Did he make-"

"Nothing like that, this comes from the top. Boardroom meeting."

"Ohmygosh I hate the boardroom." Jean growled and rolled her head around in a big, exasperated sigh. The bloody boardroom, a cramped asshole of a place witho-

... heheh ...

"Well, good luck with that Allistair!" Jean chirped merrily and slapped a hand down on her partner's shoulder by means of encouragement. "I'm sure you'll kill it in that ... meeting."

Allistair's brow clouded, quirked again for a second, then cleared as dreadful realization struck him. Behind Jean, Arthur wore a creeping grin. No - Allistair shook his head. "You're coming with-"

"Nope." Jean planted her hands on her hips. "Remember? I'm officially off-duty today. As far as the brass is concerned, Jem is engaged in tactical sleepy-time. The dragon slumbers long, as you know."

"And off-duty Agents were given emergency duty to bolster secu-"

Arthur cut in this time. "Agents were given emergency duty on a case-by-case basis." He contended with a short gesture toward Jean. "You pre-empted our emergency duty by asking us to follow you on patrol-"

"To keep you company." Jean added.

"Right." Arthur nodded. "We voluntarily followed you, so we were never assigned duty today."

Allistair glared, alternating between staring at each of his companions for a few seconds before settling on Arthur. Arthur was the more imposing of the two, but he couldn't quite make eye-contact with Jean the same way. He frowned and shook his head.

"You're not getting-"

"I was promised muffins and wine." Jean stomped a step closer to Allistair and leaned in, the front of her helmet drifting inches from her partners' nose. "I will receive what I am owed. The dragon never forgets her debts."

Allistair swore and turned around. "Fine, whatever. I've got a meeting to attend, I suppose."

Jean threw up her best smile and waved her friend off, sidling in a little closer to Arthur. Arthur cast Jean a cautious glance, and nudged her with his elbow.

"Hey," he started, "you don't think-"

"He's fine." Jean arched her back and stretched her arms high above her, a low yawn drawling from deep in her throat as she rolled her shoulders back. "Come on, would you really wanna drag your friends down with you? I wouldn't ask you guys to come with me, if I was in his position." She patted Arthur on the back. "You hungry? I had a light breakfast, but I'm pretty sure there's a kebab stand just north of here."


Jean tactfully waited until the chef was out of earshot before voicing her opinion.

"Bloody fleecers." She seethed. One hundred and twenty credits for a bloody lamb kebab? She should have arrested the wanker on sight for theft - but her stomach currently held a tighter grip on her willpower than her sense of justice did. She didn't have it in her to head to the market district for a feed, and thought she could get away with just taking a seat in on of the dockside stands. She felt sorry for the hungry travelers arriving only to have their wallets stolen by 'gourmet cuisine'.

At least she still had Allistair's tentative promise to of sweeties and alcohol to look forward to ... provided he followed through. True, she had agreed to accompany Allistair on her day off, but that was well before either of them knew their CO would be swinging by and dragging them out of bed anyway. Fortunately he seemed content enough to let Jean and Arthur follow along with Allistair for the day, so no further paperwork was entailed. Officially speaking, only Allistair was on duty - Jean and Arthur were no more than uniformed tagalongs. But with the dawn of The Passing, uniformed tagalongs wasn't such a bad deal to be stuck with.

Jean picked out a seat immediately beside Arthur, propping herself up on the stool immediately beside the counter. It was no restaurant, simply a portable food stand with a slew of stools scattered outside. From her spot she could still see travelers passing behind her, so she could still keep an eye out, in a manner of speaking.

She felt her way along her neck, fingers prying beneath the bottom of her helmet as she unfixed the clasps holding it in place. She could feel a warmness in her temples, so she was thankful for a moment's respite to stave off the impending headache. And, of course, to eat.

She breathed a long, slow sigh as she scooped the HAVEN away, letting her matted hair fall free behind her with a quick shake of her head. Up on the surface, the wind was cool and breezy, gently flickering over her exposed skin. Aaaaw yeah, that's good stuff.


I b҉e̷t ͠i҉t͠ is͢,͘ Jeąn.


Jean's hand moved for her hip holster, but a hand snapped around her wrist. She fixed her eyes on the person beside her, her fists balled. She tasted blood and bile as she locked eyes.

Arthur. Her neighbor, Arthur. Her neighbor, Arthur, who had sat down beside her. Her neighbor, Arthur, who had sat beside her and grabbed her wrist. Him.

Jean gradually broke into a sheepish, bright-eyed grin ... but Arthur refused to respond in kind. His lip warped into a frown and he delivered her a pointed nod. Right. Jean breathed deep and filled her lungs with the pristine air, then unsheathed the handgun on each hip, very slowly passing them to her partner. Arthur took her weapons, fastening them in spare holsters on each hip.

"Jem," he stated firmly, "you're being reckless. You're getting worked up over little things. This isn't like you. What's wrong?"

Jesus ... how to answer that one. A week ago, she'd have gone along with Allistair without a squeak of protest, but this week ...

Jean smiled at him - well, she tried to smile, but only succeeded in forcing her lips into an upturned curve.

"I wish I knew."

 

[Dover]

location: Shadow District | The Docks
tagging: Scotch Mourning Dove | Mr. Eye CerpinTaxt
mentions: Boy Bang Bang
ooc: Sami makes more poor life choices

Sami 'Swift' Tanyag​

"Wasn't gonna bring up anything," Sami said with mock innocence, "But now that you mention it, we probably could have found a way into that building without waking up half the block if we'd take a couple minutes to think first." With the mask on his face, it was really dulling the effect of the smarminess. Muffled as he was, it just sounded like he was trying to communicate with a pillow pressed to his face. "Oh, well, as long as you've got it all figured out then, I'm sure we'll be fine," Sami said, rolling his eyes. Again, effect entirely lost by the mask.

He still waited for Scotch to do look up data on the cargo on her holopad, though he failed to see how it being in the Docks was lucky. With The Passing being announced earlier today, there would be a lot of movement as people either tried to get on the Citadel to avoid being locked out due to increased security or fleeing entirely to avoid the mess altogether. But for people like him and Scotch? It was a pretty good time to pull off a couple of jobs. The Agency would have their hands full trying to scramble their people together, though that wouldn't last long. Security would get intense soon, he was certain of it.

"Yeah, real nice of Boy." Definitely not suspicious at all that Boy was rolling out the red carpet for them to pick up this one cargo crate filled with probable organs if he knew Boy's business. Which he did. Too well. This whole thing was getting more and more sketchy the longer he thought about it. The fact that Boy had asked them to transport this at all was weird.

"Wait. You want me to go grab the cargo while you piss off to go get your ship?" he grumbled. "I just- are you allergic to plans? Is that it?" Generally, when she pushed back on plans like this, Sami would keep arguing. Hell, sometimes he could actually get her to listen to a plan, even follow it for a while. Of course, it usually all went out the window as soon as a "better" thought popped into her head, but he usually tried anyways.

Not this time. His shoulders slumped. Today had been frustrating enough without getting into another pointless argument with Scotch. Let her have it. The defiance returned only once when Scotch mentioned relaxing, and his jaw clenched. "You don't have to beat around the bush, Scotch. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not an addict when you saw me with a packet of Stims in my hands."

Sami stopped in front of the vacuum tube, bringing up his hand to hover in front of the tube's terminal but not bringing up the interface on his MG. With simple things like this, he didn't really need the holo-interface. He felt the familiar surge of Tech magic course through him as he focused on the vacuum tube like a mild electric current shooting up from the tips of his fingers to his head. He put in a little bypass of the usual Hera interface, and some generic barcode information to keep the security happy while they two of them passed through unscanned.

Scotch is very nice, Dolly said.

Sami knocked Dolly's side with his leg, causing the camo to flicker rapidly for a second before she caught her balance.

Rude.

The trip up to the Docks was quick on the vacuum tube. As they stepped out, Sami took off his mask smoothly and slipped it into his bag as it folded back up. A bit of clammy sweat was collecting on his brow, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand as he stepped out, with camouflaged Dolly still hot on his heels. Hands sliding into his pockets, he--

Swifty Boy?

"Don't call me that," Sami said, looking over his shoulder and squinting his eyes at Scotch. "I put up with Swifty because it's literally impossible to stop you, but don't get on that too."

Swifty Boy, Dolly repeated, earning her a harsh glare from Sami.

"Oh my god, you're like a toddler. Shut up." He gave her another nudge and looked back at Scotch again. "You know what, fine. Let's go with your godawful plan. Your un-plan. It's not a plan. Just go get your ship. We both have the ID. We can find it. I'll meet you there.

Sami broke off from Scotch as quickly as he could. This was bad. A day and a half without a hit and already he was getting impatient and cagey enough to actually agree to Scotch's plans. And though he was aware of it, though he knew this whole thing was going to wind them up in a whole bunch of trouble, he pushed on. His primary concern was getting that crate as soon as possible. The combination of aching from his leg and withdrawal was becoming unbearable. He was even willing to look past how odd the Docks seemed today. It was busy, as it always was, but something was... off.

What was off became more apparent as he went further back into the quieter areas where usually only the Hands that worked on the Docks, Agents, and Citadel citizens grabbing their cargo were. The place was silent when he peered in. Sami cautiously walked down alongside a row of shipping containers, the hair on the back of his neck rising as he heard nothing but his own footsteps and the nearly silent whirring of Dolly following him.

I'm scared.

"Shh."

Where the hell was everyone? He kept walking, looking at the shipping containers and the identification numbers on them that were too quickly approaching the number that Boy had given them.

Sami stopped hard in his tracks. Just down one of the walkways between containers, right past a particular large container, Sami could see a man. A man that was just sitting next to a container, a holopad in his blood-coloured, gloved hands. And didn't the man just look perfectly content with what he was doing! This was fine. Just a man, sitting in an empty dock hanger that they'd been directed to, right next to the package they were supposed to deliver. Totally fine.

"Oh, fuck me," Sami muttered under his breath. "This is your fault, Scotch." He hoped she was sitting in her ship with her ears burning.

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To: Mourning Dove (mentioned)

RE: HADES

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: Greekaboo bullshit intensifies

Classified
What a fucking day.

First the Passing, then au Olver rearing his ugly head again - not to even mention new developments on behalf of Gwen. Good or bad didn't matter - it was an eventful day, to be sure. Hades needed a bloody drink.

Jamie had found some pretty things to distract him, giving Hades a little space to pour himself a drink. Shit, he could have downed the entire bottle if he didn't think he'd be needed to keep the place on-track for the day. Grab one of the girls who was free and take her upstairs, get shit-faced and get laid. Fuck, wouldn't that be the way to go?

His train of thought halted as a masked figure stopped before the bar.

"Sir." Maya folded her hands behind her back and stood still before him.

"What?"

"A message for you." Her voice fell hushed, and she leaned toward Hades - not before throwing a cautionary glance over her shoulder. "An an android dropped by. Didn't give a name, but delivered two messages - one physical, one verbal."

Hades' head bobbed gently, and he leaned across the counter. Maya took a seat opposite him, leaning in turn across the counter and touching her temple against his, her mouth resting by his ear.

"If you decide to go looking for trouble, draw a red cross next to your door, and it will come find you."

... how very ... cryptic? He took the letter from the guard and turned it over in his hands. His fingers went still as his eyes passed over the seal. Was that ... oh? Oh, somebody knew how to pique his interest. He felt a smile tug at him. Hah, how ironic - for all the years he spent despising the game, someone had decided to play at his game. How very intriguing.

"Thank you."

Thank you? Part of Maya wished to ask he Hades was feeling alright, but ... no. A word of thanks. She wasn't going to question it. She stood quickly, snapping into her usual self and delivering a bow before returning for her comrades on the podium, the smallest of springs in her step.

A thank you. She was smiling.

Hades slipped a small knife from his pocket, and carefully slipped it into the envelope - careful to preserve the seal in doing so. He licked a finger and slipped the contents from inside, unfolding the letter slowly and reading. It wasn't a long letter, only a few lines in fact, but the contents spoke volumes once he connected the dots.

... very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

It occurred to him that he had some extra signs somewhere around the place. In particular, a garish red-neon 'XXX' that he had never actually used. Well ... a little rewiring and self-sabotage, and perhaps that old piece would serve him again.

What a fucking day, indeed.

 

[NUSKI]

Incoming File ...
To: Zera au Augustus ( Bang Bang )

RE: VICTORIA

Location: Level One - Theta District, Fleet Admiral's Residence
Bureau Notes: sorry 7, btw bang the end is kinda weird idk idk im more nervous than vic

Classified


Shit.

She had no idea what the Emperor wanted with her but it was probably not good especially since they never established an appointment. It also saddened her that it had to happen while she talked to Lexa. If anything it would be more awkward for them to talk next time they saw each other. Approaching the front oors of her estate now, the two guards positioned at the door seemed a little nervous which wasn't a good sign.

"Did she seem upset, Raphael?" Victoria said, observing him closely.

"Not particularly, no" the man said as Victoria rolled her eyes and walked inside the building. She shouldn't have been surprised, people were naturally afraid of Zera and with news of The Passing, they had a right to. Victoria wasn't really scared of the woman, in fact she admired her. Even though she rarely used her MagiGraft, Victoria found herself comparing herself to the female Warper. She hoped one day she would be able to strike fear into people's heart. It was almost amazing actually how one person can scare a whole civilization.

Bringing herself back to the real world, Victoria grinned as she saw the only Slav she bothered to keep around. The majority of Noblus kept more than three and sometimes more than ten but Victoria wasn't a baby; she could take care of herself and complete her own errands and/or tasks. His name was Phillip and albeit he was only 15 years of age, he was more useful to Victoria than anyone else in the Citadel. Most Noblus were not honest. If you meet them, they just give you formalities, empty compliments and fake smiles but Phillip was honest. He did not tell her what she wanted to hear, he told her what she needed to hear. Victoria hoped that when she gained more influence in the Citadel, she would be able to give him a possible position in House au Saara. He was more of a thinker than a fighter so The Agency and Imperial Fleet were out of the question.

"Welcome back, Miss Victoria. The Emperor is waiting for you in your office" the boy said in a discreet tone. Victoria patted his head and gestured for him to follow her.

"I don't think it's about The Pass-" Philip said before Victoria's hands landed on his mouth. He frowned curiously as Victoria looked at him with widened eyes.

"No. We can speak later, Phillip. Now is not the time. Anyways, how do I look?"

"I don't like it when your hair is like that, but other than that... bad as usual" Phillip replied almost immediately before sprinting down one of the halls. Victoria laughed out loud, thinking about the many ways she would smack him after she was done with Zera. Victoria pulled her hair down and put the elastic that was holding all up around her wrist. Walking towards the office, she could feel her heart beating faster and faster.

Before opening the door, Victoria checked her hair once again, now regretting asking the boy of his opinion.

"Emperor a-au Augustus!" Victoria started as she turned around to shut the door. Using this opportunity, she wiped a bead of sweat coming down from her forehead and tried her best to look humbled. Victoria saluted and held her arm up for two seconds before relaxing her arms and slowly, anxiously making her way to her desk. "I was surprised to hear from you today. I would of thought you were busy" Victoria said as she stopped right beside her desk, not sure if she should sit down or not.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Sir Galahad II

RE: GWEN

Location: Underworld, private strip room
Bureau Notes: You just had to bring it up again Rob :P

Classified
"Oh, you don't have to apologize. Hell, I should be apologizing for getting your name wrong. But since you're offering..."

Well thank hell - Gwen really didn't know what she'd tell Hades if she'd screwed this one up - two cock ups in one night? He might be willing to overlook the first, but two mistakes was just careless. She decided, despite the Persephone thing and this man's taste in men, she liked this dude.

As they drifted into the stripper's private room, she was asked:

"Wait. Twice dashed?"

Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at the note of confusion in the question. "Yeah. I mean I kind of dashed you too, even if you were joking or whatever." Slumping down in a booth chair, she grinned at Pixie who was smirking - Gwen's own relationship with their JoyBots was... strained at best. She at once both resented them for continuing with what she couldn't stand, and for reminding her of what she'd once done, and at times, still seemed to continue to do. But she knew it was both petty and illogical, so she tried to backwash that nonsensical antagonism and play protector to them whenever Kello was distracted by shiny guns.

"Don't feel embarrassed about it or anything - Hades gets propositioned more often than half of our girls. Everyone seems to think he's this saint figure because he treats androids half decently." She shrugged on the matter as Pixie put her attentions on Robert, given how he was actually a paying customer. "He's no saint, but he's a hell of a lot better than most humans I've had the pleasure of meeting. No offense."

On that note, she popped through a 'Everything okay out there?' message to her boss via Aphrodite's network, feeling less than stellar about taking shelter from Jamie au Olver's presence but... somehow she doubted Hades would love the idea of her punching him into next week during these kinds of times. As she did so, a disgruntled looking staffer popped their head in, spotted her, and dumped her favorite cocktail (rainbow sunset) down on the table. "It's lukewarm and it's your fault for running off," was all they said, before vanishing back to the post they'd be vagrant from.

...Whatever that was about. Either way, she was content to sip it and pass a smile over at Rob.

 

[Sir Galahad II]

Incoming File ...
To:@Bang Bang Collidias Rex

RE: ROBERT HANCOCK

Location: (Primary Location of character Here)
Bureau Notes: I'm Commander Hancock, and this is my favorite joybar on the Citadel.

ClassifiedShe said, "Yeah. I mean I kind of dashed you too, even if you were joking or whatever," which indicated to him that; A. She still thought he was hitting on Hades, and B. That he wasn't as great at flirting as he thought he was. Tonight just wasn't his night, it seemed. He intended on fixing that with some alone time with some androids, however, but even still it was disappointing. After hearing her statement on not feeling embarrassed, he simply replied:

"I thought I'd mentioned I was talking about the bar... oh well. Believe what you'd like," he said, not really caring if this one... person? Thought he was into men. He had bigger concerns, like running his store or making sure he didn't say, "I disagree with the emperor," in front of anyone.

As for her comment on the humans she'd met, he said, "None taken. Plenty of good people on the Citadel, but plenty of bad ones too." He himself believed in a more Locke style of thinking, where everyone is born a blank slate and shaped by their surroundings, but he could certainly understand why some people viewed humanity in a more pessimistic tone. Gwen had mentioned that Hades treated androids, as she put it, half-decently. And that definitely seemed true- they were even allowed to carry weapons and guard the place, it seemed, if Rob was correct in his assumptions. That he could respect Hades for- although Gwen was right, he didn't know him very well.

He thought about who he was going to spend his money on. Usually he preferred joybots over joygirls, as you couldn't get androids pregnant. Of course he wouldn't object to a human woman, though. Tonight, he was thinking of two girls in particular: Minthe and Pixie. Minthe because Gwen seemed to recommend her, which meant that she was probably more expensive. Seeing as he got a free girl tonight and that his experience would be more enjoyable overall, it seemed like a no-brainer. He didn't consider Pixie at first due to her wings, as they probably limited what kind of positions were available, but with the way she was looking at him, he couldn't say no.

After the staffer had passed through, he told Gwen, "I'm thinking Minthe and Pixie tonight. Got a scanner?" while pulling up his sleeve to reveal his barcode.

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: The Docks
tagging: Dover
mentioning: Dover
ooc: Oh look, now it's Scotch's turn to freak out.

Scotch​

“It’s a great plan,” Scotch grumbled to herself as she made her way down the docks.

Swifty Boy just wanted something to complain about. She’d show him. She’d have her ship parked over at the damn shipping container before he could even think about opening it.

Scotch let herself blend in with the crowd, weaving through the flocks of travellers almost effortlessly. She hadn’t seen the Docks that lively in – well, ever, really. Scotch didn’t really care about the whole “Passing” thing beyond the fact that it was good for business. So the Emperor was resigning and a few Noblus were going to play a weird game of exchanging pleasantries while secretly trying to poison each other’s fancy drinks. So what. In the end, they’d get a new Emperor who’d be just as much of a prick as the last one.

At least the whole thing got her a nice new job. Or so she assumed – it couldn’t be a coincidence that Boy chose this exact day to approach them.

She passed by the couple of food stands in the north sector of the docks and tried to ignore the rumble her stomach gave at the smell of spices and grilled meat. It occurred to her that she could technically afford to buy them two of those overpriced gyros now, but Swift would probably try to throttle her if she showed up ten minutes late with takeout food. And, oh yeah, she was still trying to be quick. Too bad, she doubted she had anything besides cup noodles and some shitty frozen meals on her-

Scotch’s food concerns were put to a halt when she spotted a flash of black armor close to the counter of the stall ahead of her. Oracle. Shit. And another Agent next to her.
Scotch willed away the spike of tension she felt at the sight. Both of them were looking away from her currently, busy watching people further down the boardwalk, but she’d have to pass by them to get to where her ship was docked. That was fine. It would be fine. She was just another face among the crowd right now, didn’t even have anything incriminating with her.

Plus, they seemed to be on break, by the look of it. Scotch gaze lingered briefly on the Oracle’s long white hair, which was all she could make out from this angle. Her brain needed a second to process the sight of an Oracle without their helmet on. She’d technically known that there were humans inside those ominous black suits of armor, Yes, but the image seemed weird somehow, wrong.

She was almost past them when she risked another glance, pretending to be looking at the two Noblus sitting next to them. The Oracle had turned to say something to the other Agent and

…

No.

Scotch willed herself to keep walking. No. that couldn’t be Jem.

Jem was gone.

She tried to keep her posture relaxed, her gaze straight ahead while she made her way down the boardwalk. Jem was gone, and people that disappeared from the Shadow Districts didn’t come back as Oracles ten years later.

Jem had been neither a Tech nor an Agent, and certainly not both.

It was all she could do to keep herself from speeding up and pushing through the masses. Or turning around to take another look and make sure, once and for all, that she was mistaken. But Swift would be pissed if she let herself get held up by Agents now, wouldn’t he. So Scotch kept on walking, only picking up the pace once she had turned a corner and was sure that the two Agents couldn’t see her anymore. She could see her ship now, waiting for her at the end of the boardwalk. Scotch got out her holopad, typed in her access code, and watched the engines flare to life. Almost there.

It would be fine.

 

[CerpinTaxt]

Incoming File ...
To: Dover Mourning Dove

RE: EYE

Location: Docks
Bureau Notes: At least Sami gets lots of cash

Classified

The man that Sami had spotted, Mr. Eye, continued to sit there for a few moments while Sami watched him. He seemed to not notice the man before the dull light of his holopad abruptly shut off. His head steadily rose, his eyes meeting Sami's while he sat there. He watched Sami for a few moments before leaning to the side, resting the holopad on the ground before he rose to his feet. The briefcase that had previously been resting against the container was in his right hand now. The light taps of his walking returned, once again being the only noise, he made as he calmly walked to the man.


Eye had noticed the robot with him, but his focus was more on the person and the surrounding area. He didn't say a word until he was just a few meters away, letting out a simple "Hello." before coming to a halt. "By the look in your eyes, I suspect you had no idea I would be joining you for your delivery." Eye brought his left hand up to straighten his tie before lowering it once more. "I am Mr. Eye, and I have been asked by Mr. Knife to accompany who is to be moving his cargo. This decision was only made a little bit ago, so it's natural you wouldn't expect my presence here. I'm merely here to insure the integrity of his cargo. Nothing more, and nothing less. Mr. Knife does send his apologies for the unannounced change."


A slight smile formed on Eye's face as he stepped past the man and into the more wide-open part of the Docks as he looked around. "I'm sure whoever Mr. Knife assigned this job to was given no warning of me either, so don't be upset with your employers. Regardless. I believed there were meant to be two of you? Where is the other one?" Mr. Eye scanned the area for a few moments before looking back at Sami. "After all, while I did make sure to ensure no prying eyes couldn't witness you load the cargo onto your ship, there's only so much time that could be bought."


"My educated guess is...you've split up. You split up to get the cargo and the other retrieved transportation. Mm..I do hope they can handle meteor storms." His eyes narrowed a bit, and he looked as if he were listening to someone talk. "I'm sure if you bring up the meteor storm to Mr. Knife he may feel some compassion for you. Perhaps he'll give you a little bonus, if he's feeling a bit more generous today. If you have any questions for me, you'd best ask them now. Though I may not be able to answer some that you may ask."

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Sir Galahad II Collidias Rex

RE: GWEN

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: can't believe jamie is sending hades love letters rude

Classified
"Someone who actually listens," Gwen said, noting the choice and smirking. She slipped out her holopad and used the scanning function, deducting the price for one of them out of his account. "A done deal. Minthe will be notified to expect you. Tip from me? Ask her to show you how she got so infamous. As for Pixie-" She paused, looking up at the JoyBot already watching her, one brow raised in a silent question. "I'm sure she'll make the freebie worth while."

Gwen got the impression that Robert had come here for a certain experience with the Bots, and whilst it was fun to sit and drink with patrons during strips and dances, she had no intention of lingering for witnessing those kinds of experiences. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, weirdo," Gwen told him, downing her drink and standing with a wry smirk. "But since you've no doubt had a hard day with everything going on, I'll leave you in the girls' far more capable hands." That and she had the nagging feeling Hades would slaughter her if she did what she wanted to, and just sat and drank and watched strippers on the most important day possibly of her lifetime.

Taking the empty glass with her, she slipped out of the private room and back down the corridor, brushing through the curtain to look about. Olver was gone (thank god) and who the hell knew where 'Not the Emperor's Son' had gone to - no doubt fucking one of the bots, or trying to start a fight, probably at the same time. She checked in with the staff to make sure everyone's was 'okay' and nothing had gone astray, before looking out for a familiar head of greying hair.

"Fanmail from au Olver?" She asked dryly, appearing at Hades' shoulder and tipping her head in the letter he was holding's direction. With it, she offered him another glass of his usual poison, already armed with it and her own alternative. The lights were down, so it was an acceptable time to start drinking, and today felt like the kind of day they'd all need it.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: NUSKI

RE: Zera au Augustus

Location: Theta District, Victoria's Private Quarters
Bureau Notes: Lol you probably should be Zera came here to play ball

Classified
At the sound of the door sliding open, Zera turned on her heel. Rather late, Victoria, Fleet Admiral, entered into her office as summoned, and the Emperor took her time appraising her, gaze slow as she looked her down, then up.

Victoria au Saara was attractive, well put together, and radiated a kind of strength that was subtle enough not to seem arrogant. At the same time, she possessed a vagrant brother, too soft a heart for Zera's liking, and was awfully young. Like herself, she was a warper, difficult to read, and veering on the unpredictable side. Though they were wildly differing in looks, Zera could identify a resemblance to her younger self in the Fleet Admiral, a woman beyond her years in rank and accomplishments. Softness could be trained out of a person. A vagrant brother could be dealt with.

In short, she rather liked her. But just as easily, she distrusted her, as she would if she ever met herself.

Giving the Admiral a tight smile, Zera gestured for the other to sit. "I am always busy, Admiral." She herself took up occupying the small armchair positioned near the desk, wearing the seat like a throne. "But it is times like these when the military is of the highest importance."

Testing others was never simple. If they knew it was a test, they might endure only to change tactics once they knew they'd passed. On the other hand, tests could produce a sense of loyalty to those who endured enough to break them mentally, to force their allegiance to the one who praised them afterwards. It was an idea she'd studied as a young woman on Hausa, along with other methods employed by Cult leaders and the psychology behind their functions.

Victoria au Saara was of the House the Emperor had often considered her enemy, a rival both in politics and the military. She was also Fleet Admiral, and had sworn allegiance to The Emperor and their cause.

"I am here to offer you an opportunity, and a choice," Zera told the other, voice calm and measured. It was with great effort that she kept her hand from shaking. Now was not the time to appear weak. "As you well know, I have but two weeks guaranteed to keep me on the throne, and the one thing I would hate, more than anything, would be to leave an incomplete legacy."

"Three families have always threatened the security of the throne. House au Avant, House au Defrel, and House au Saara. Their private armies are too big, too close, and too loyal to be dismissed as threats to the throne. As you know, I united this Citadel by use of the private forces of House au Augutus. What I am proposing is that, during this time whilst all major houses, including those three, are occupied with affairs internal, you and your force go to their home planets and wipe them out. It will need to be simultaneously to avoid alerting the others to our intentions. For this, you will need to split your numbers, and so I shall be lending you my own private forces who shall, if you succeed, join with the Imperial Fleet."

Leaning forward, she met Victoria's gaze with her own, steady and unyielding. "I understand your familial ties to House au Saara may conflict with this. But I also know that you are a woman who seeks to achieve, and one who wishes to do what is right. If we eliminate the dominant private armies, and force the conscription of all others to join our own, we will not only strengthen the empire, but also eliminate the threat of civil war. No longer will whole planets be at risk of being wiped out because of Noblus squabbles. Finally, after all these years of slowly removing rebellion and the war hungry from among our numbers, we'll be able to enforce peace across the traverse."

Her speech concluded, she settled back in her seat and crossed her legs. Her hand she tucked beneath her thigh, the quivering in it minute but tangible. "When you joined the force, you swore to fight for The Empire and for the justice in the traverse. And if you accomplish this? You shall go down in history as the admiral who finally brought an end to the genocide and petty corruption that plagues our political system and universe. You'll be the one who made this Empire truly strong. And, more importantly, I will assign you a role on the Counsel as Official Military Consultant. House au Saara may keep its other seat, for you shall have proven your loyalty is to the Empire, not to your blood."

 

[NUSKI]

Incoming File ...
To: Zera au Augustus ( Bang Bang )

RE: VICTORIA

Location: Level One - Theta District, Victoria's Private Quarters
Bureau Notes: forgive me au saara

Classified


The longer Zera au Augustus spoke, the less Victoria thought this was a casual visit. At this point, she would have rather been in trouble to be put on the spot like this. It was also a good thing Lincoln was no longer in family affairs; otherwise he would have tried to rip off the Emperor's head. Victoria slowly sat down in her chair, needing a few seconds to process the information that was just given to her. It always occurred to her that her loyalty would be put the test and that thought was reinforced when Zera became Emperor but she never thought it would happen so close to the end of her reign. This would most likely hurt her aunt and brother even though his opinion was irrelevant. At the same time, the Emperor was right. She was a woman whose main goal was to achieve. It was kind of confusing for Victoria because if she declined the offer, she would most likely encounter the anger of Zera that her younger brother many years ago but Zera was only in power for so much longer. It was no longer about Zera though. So far in her career, Victoria had not accomplished a thing that she could be proud of no matter what the other Noblus say.

This shouldn't be difficult.

It's right here. I can take it.

More power. More glory.

Victoria leaned forward and cleared her throat, repeatedly tapping her black-painted nails on the glass desk. Only a couple of seconds had passed but Victoria could tell that the woman who sat before her was not a woman who could be told to wait. Even without the rewards that the Emperor promised her, the choice was obvious. She was Victoria au Saara. It was time for people to fear that name.

"Emperor au Augustus... I am loyal to the Empire, to you. That is why I shall accept this proposal. I can assure you that my ties to House au Saara will be no problem because while family is important, it doesn't come nowhere close to ending corruption and genocide. If you don't mind though, I have one more request before we can go any further. I would like to personally tell my aunt about this situation as I assume she won't be too happy with it. Either way, it will happen."

She had done it. Despite what she said, Victoria knew that sometime in the future, while to most of the Noblus community her name could be feared and/or respected, the other evils dwelling outside the lower levels would scheme. Their hate would grow but she was ready for it. The time for playing around and skirmishes had passed. Despite what au Augustus had done when she was a child, she always admired Emperor au Augustus and while she herself could see comparisons, others did not. Victoria did not want her name to held alongside Zera. She was going to surpass her in every way imaginable and she just gave her the key to doing so. It was almost funny how quickly the gears in Victoria's mind shifted but for now, she didn't even notice it. All she was thinking about now were the pour souls who were going to be killed by her hand.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: NUSKI

RE: Zera au Augustus

Location: Theta District, Victoria's Private Chambers
Bureau Notes: I see your conditions and I say mmm nah xD

Classified
Zera had to laugh - the nerve of the girl to make demands of her. But even so, she could see that look in her eye that she knew too well. The seductive force of temptation, the promise of power. She didn't have to ask to know the girl was imagining it, all she would gain through this offer. There was a cold cruelty to her face, almost undetectable, that even seemed to place Zera at the mercy of Victoria's power.

Which was fine by her. She had two weeks to live. If she could get Victoria to aim high under her agenda? So be it. She needed a knife like that to cut at the infection in the society she had created.

"I appreciate your loyalty, Admiral. But if you tell your aunt? She shall no doubt install counter measures. I've known Lady Isabel even longer than you, Victoria, and she is not one to lie down and bite the bullet. However, in recognition of your familial sacrifices, I will ensure she is informed that this was a direct order from me, and that House au Saara is appropriately compensated before I give away my title. All under the table, of course. Your aunt may not be happy in the short term, but once she understands what she might personally gain from it?" Looking to Victoria, she arched an eyebrow. "Besides. Didn't you stop to think what this would mean for my chosen heir?"

Standing, Zera smoothed her clothes out and looked down at Victoria. "Perhaps you want the throne. You seem a woman who could handle it, though you are young and have yet to prove it. Or perhaps you wish your aunt to hold it. Either way, do this for me, and House au Saara will have proven itself a most loyal ally, beyond the petty squabbling of private armies and force disputes."

Going to the door, she glanced back at Victoria. "I trust you will do this for me, Admiral? A woman who did something like this might even risk eclipsing my legacy. After all, The Wastes can be repaired. Private Armies, once outlawed, cannot."