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

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Collidias Rex ; potential receivers of this info Cosmic_Chaos Sir Galahad II KnightSergeant CerpinTaxt (for when she heads over to Boy's, figured she could meet with your impending DJ?)

RE: GWEN

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: tfw when ur like no hetero master but don't work urself 2 death k thnx bye

Classified
"We're beginning."

Gwen had been expecting a lot from this meeting. As she watched Madame Trouble storm out, she admitted things had turned out rather anticlimactic; That was, until Hades dropped that little one liner on her. She was so miffed by their theatrical visitor that she nearly asked 'beginning what?' when the obvious presented itself. Visibly startled for a moment, she blinked back at her owner.

Something had clicked for him. She didn't know what, but she could see it in his face, resolve, resignation, but most importantly of all, a plan. What it was, maybe she'd find out later; More likely, she wouldn't find out until they were on the precipice of enacting it. Ten years ago, that fact would have petrified her. A decade of working for the grouchy fuck and secret dweeb had taught her well the fear was unfounded.

She trusted him.

Nodding shortly after he'd reeled off her instructions, she cast an eye over him as she ran over her plans internally. Scribbling furiously, he'd been as violently snatched up by his revelation as he had been dissatisfied by their visitor. She ought to feel more concern, but watching him throw himself head first into whatever intricate schemes he'd devised... she ended up grinning instead. Finally.

"You need anything," she said, well aware this wouldn't be easy on him, on any of them, "just give me the word. And remember to sleep. Occasionally." She almost added 'and maybe steer clear of the booze' but there were some things you didn't say to a man who literally owned your ass. Instead, she just said, "Let me know if you need me."

Mind you, she had her own work cut out for her. Leaving Hades' side, she first sent messages to all the contacts she'd been storing up through the Joyfolk's intel and her own external sources, letting them know only that if they were interested in good pay, Hades had work for them.

These 'contacts' included: Some crime group with a history of the hacking business (hackers), Rey over at BS (tech), the encrypted address she'd been given for some masked vigilante type moron (muscle) and, last of all, one of the supposedly 'secure' Noblus messaging systems known (covertly) for android-sympathy leanings (warpers). If they responded, she'd vet them, and no doubt whatever Hades came up with to tell them would be far from the real truth. He seemed to trust people about as much as she did, which suited this sort of thing perfectly.

As she dictated orders to her holopad, which sat stuck open and tucked under her chin, she changed into some old clothes she held no attachment to and then pocketed one of her personal favourite tech knives - courtesy of an old favour she'd done Rey a while back.

She returned to Hades. Without flinching, she nodded to him. Held out the knife to him. "Right. Cut me up, boss." She presented the handle to him and pressed up the button that activated the heating component of the knife. It'd be quick, clean, and should produce a nice easy cut to mend. "Nerds like them will be able to tell the difference between an attack and self-infliction."

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: Juno Station, heading out of the Docks
tagging: Dover
mentioning: Dover
Bureau Notes: Priorities, Scotch

​

Scotch​

The attack never came. Scotch waited with bated breath, gun drawn, eyes on the door leading to the quarantine zone, but nothing happened. By the time she’d watched some foolish new arrival deal with the blockade and move his way past the door without getting his face blown off, it felt safe to assume that whatever had been going on in there had blown over. Maybe the universe was kind today and the Blinders had been dealt with. Maybe they’d retreated and were lying in wait somewhere else, just waiting to attack any poor innocent smugglers passing through.
Either way, it seemed best to regroup for now. Scotch let some of the tension escape her shoulders, heading down the ramp to join Swift behind his crate and perhaps tease him about the fact that, after all this time, he still hadn’t managed to acquire some basic gun skills. She hadn’t done that in a while. Couldn’t let herself slack off.

Then the door was blown right of its hinges, blasting through the air at a speed no huge metal object that had been perfectly still and inconspicuous the moment before ever really should be blasting, and skittering to a halt with the deafening screech of metal on metal. Scotch let out a curse, gun drawn again. Then she saw Eye.
It took her a second to process what had happened. Shouldn’t be that hard, really, but to be fair, the stunt he just pulled shouldn’t be possible for any man of his stature – no, strike that – it shouldn’t be possible for anyone, unless they had gotten some serious work done. Or they weren’t human.

She didn’t get to dwell on that thought for too long. A faint crackling noise from Swift’s direction demanded her attention. Then Dolly started speaking, and Oh. She knew that voice. Scotch ran the last few steps over to the crate and came to a skittering halt at Swift’s side.

“I hope you've been looking after Scotch for me, I've rather been looking forward to our meeting back at the shop.”

Scotch tried to fight back the big dumb grin that was spreading on her face. So Boy hadn’t forgotten about her yet. That was… good. Great even.
Not that she’d been worried about that. Definitely not. But well, Boy probably flirted with a ton of roguishly charming smugglers every day, and they were trying to get her to accept the job back then, so maybe Scotch had been telling herself not to get her hopes up too soon, just in case. Looked like she didn’t have to.

“So Sa- Swifty, have you been looking after me?” Scotch said once Boy cut out and almost immediately regretted it, because One: Priorities, and Two: Fuck. She couldn’t start mixing up Swift’s name. It was irritating enough that she somehow managed to find the remaining piece to the name puzzle she never even wanted to solve. “I mean, uh. Nice of Boy to send that message, right? Wonder what that bit at the end was about.”

Mr. Eye had made it back to them by now, fiddling with his gun in a way that looked positively ominous. Scotch would have liked to tell him where to stick that mysterious backup they were apparently going to meet in the Tuhi District – they didn’t need another Mr. getting on their case – but, uhm. The image of that dented metal door skidding to a screeching halt in the middle of the docking bay was still fresh in her mind. Maybe she needed to be just a bit more cautious around the guy. “Might meet someone in Tuhi. Got it.” Scotch gave a little mock salute as she turned to him and Nigel. “Good luck with Mission Exodus. Doubt you two will need it, though.” They made a pretty formidable team, those two, Scotch thought as she watched Nigel turn to Eye….If Nigel’s remark about Eye’s gun wasn’t about to cost him his head, that is. Nigel was either far braver or far more careless than her if he dared to adopt that tone with the Mister who’d just kicked in a solid metal door like it was made of styrofoam. But hey. Not her problem.

They needed to get back to work. Scotch put her hands on her hips as she assessed the situation looked like it was gonna be just her, Swift, Dolly, and… The last thing Nigel had said before he turned away caught up with her right as Mr. Fancy Suit stepped up to introduce himself.
Nigel wanted them to babysit the Noblus? Hell no. As amusing as the guy was, they had enough trouble on their hands already.

“Listen, Nat, that’s all very charming and kind of you, but we’re in the middle of a pretty important job, as you’ve-“ Scotch stopped.

As you’ve heard.

Shit. Nat had heard all of Boy’s message, hadn’t he? He’d seen the container. He knew who it was for, he knew about Boy’s involvement, he knew where they were headed, and was about to witness where they were going to store it in the meanwhile. Scotch doubted Nat had any interest in the container or held any bad intentions – if he did, he was about the best actor she’d ever met – but still, they couldn’t risk him babbling out their secrets, or being approached by someone who was interested in their cargo. They’d have to keep an eye on him.

“You know what? Strike that! Never know when you’re gonna run into murderous rogue androids on this lovely little station, right? We could use a new Warper friend to protect little old defenceless us.” Scotch managed to stay serious for about one second before she broke out into a grin. “Ok, no. Not all that defenceless. I’ve got a gun, and this guy…” she pointed over at Swift. “…is very good at running and hiding.” He also had neat Tech powers, but she wasn’t about to tell that to a Noblus. “He also happens to know Nigel pretty well, so I’m sure he can put in a good word for you, right?” Scotch shot Swift a pleading look, hoping he’d play along for now.

Wasn’t as if he’d have to go through with it. As far as Scotch was concerned, they could just ditch Nat in Afterlife once they arrived. The place seemed right up his alley anyway, all vibrant and exciting – From what she’d heard, at least. The few jobs Scotch had taken on Juno throughout the years had all been of the ‘pick something up and get the hell out of here’ sort, so she didn’t exactly have the time to go check out the local Joybars. She was looking forward to it now, though. Especially if a certain someone was waiting for them there.

With a big smile on her face, she clapped their new friend on the shoulder. “So, Welcome to the team, Mr. Nathaniel Prescott Bernoulli.” The name sounded vaguely familiar. Where had she heard that before? “You can call me Scotch. Let’s go get that container and feed it to the storage system. Any chance you can just kind of… float it for us?” There’d be no harm in that as long as they kept an eye on him, right? She was getting pretty sick of dragging the thing around.

Once the container was safely stored away, the new storage number saved on Scotch’s holopad, Scotch made her way towards the quarantine zone. Her eyes fell on the red-clad figure on the ground, barely recognisable, pieces of it scattered throughout the room. If this was what Mr.Eye could do, she was hoping their meeting with Mr. Knife would be very brief and eventless.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Dover Mourning Dove ReverseTex CerpinTaxt Noivian Squared Elowyn

RE: JUNO

Location: Juno Station
Bureau Notes: *falls into a deep GMsleep, similar to Odinsleep only lazier*

Classified

• Tuhi District
• Nezumi District

• 
  
  
  

  
  

  

  
  

  
  
  TUHI
  
  

  
  

  

  
  

  

  
  
  
  Above the docks, the Inu district was as busy and bustling as ever despite the civil war effecting the lower and upper floor, though Sir Lancelot had abandoned his post at the Pot and ventured up. It was Tuhi where the keenest signs of damage could be found; Beneath the stark neon lighting smoke could still be seen rising from half the buildings. Those who walked about the ground floors did so hurriedly, head bowed, eyes ahead. Even the station crafts up ahead zipped along with a cautious, stealthy nervousness.
  
  The fire that had savaged the entire floor was now out, and the attempt to repair and pretend nothing had happened was well underway; This being Juno, the residents were more than used to blaring disturbances. Few could shrug off hell itself quite so deftly.
  
  Still, the air - thick with smog, chemical scents, and exhaust fumes as it was - stunk of the smoke of buildings burning, thicker than usual so that the neon lights caught heavy in the air, turning everything within five meters of a person bright cyan or violet or hot pink. Whilst some more altruistic citizens had organised a clean up team, picking through salvage in search of survivors, far more were having their choice of prizes, raiding the burned out buildings and pick-pocketing those stupid enough to stand about and stare.
  
  At the far end of the district, in the shadowy halls of wiring, plumbing, and panels that marked the entrance to the maintenance stairs up to the next floor, someone else was gathered there. Someone neither of The Blinders nor one of Boy's people.
  
  They were a figure all in white, white hair, white motifs, a fleck of snow among the pollution. Clenched in each hand, a blade. Around them, scattered across the metal grating that formed the floor, bodies. Countless bodies, enough to fill a large cruise ship. Those who had nothing to do with it were giving the figure and their slaughter a wide berth. Though they did not wear the throat-constricting, just-a-little-too-smart suit of some of their people, the figure was easily identified not by name, but rather by organisation.
  
  The Blind Bureau.
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  

  
  

  

  
  
  

  NEZUMI​

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  

  
  

  

  
  
  
  For those tasked with accessing the Systems Decks, first the obstacle of the Nezumi district had to be navigated.
  
  Like the creatures it was named after, the district lived up to the idea of a rat warren. Shambles passing themselves off as buildings stacked atop of one another, flakes of paint, dirt, and who knows what dropping off at odd instances everywhere. At least half were in total disrepair; all were occupied, in a fit state or not.
  
  Below these ramshackle buildings, the foundations of the entire Station resided; All that couldn't fit into the Systems Decks dwelled here; Power stations, oil stores, water boilers, heaters, pumps, purification plants, storage, you name it. As such, the place baked without requiring additional heating; It was impossible to enter without sweating profusely, even for those who lived there. The air was thick was moisture, putrefied, stagnant, oppressive heat incarnate.
  
  It was, in short, a shit hole. Those who lived there did so because they could afford nothing else, or had been cast out of the more 'civilized' upper floors. Still, it also served as the sole access point to the Systems Decks, with the exception of Afterlife. Within an hour after Boy's arrival on the station, The Blinder's had forced access and taken over the communications, power, electricity, everything.
  
  As such, they'd ensured to defend this floor much better than the docks. Patrols ran throughout the streets, Blinders marching in pairs of twos. Look outs scouted the rooftops, hopped between windows and porches to turf out any residents and force them to join in with the takeover. Most resisted, well aware of the unpleasant side of The Blinders, but this too was their chance for power. Even humans were allowed to join, though of course, their final fate was kept from them.
  
  It was in the very center of this district, deep, deep down a shaft, that the forced access point to the Systems Deck resided, guarded by ten androids stationed in a ring around it. They were similarly armed to the first Blinders encountered; with shitty, make-shift weapons, some not even possessing projectiles or firearms. Still. The group was certainly trying its best to ensure it was impenetrable.
  
  [[Note: Feel free to control Blinders patrol and guards as you see fit.]]
  
  [/SIZE][/FONT]
  

 

[s e v e n]

Lexa E. au Augustus

Location: Citadel, The Palace.

✢ Interactions: Gabriel , Victoria NUSKI (Message)
✢ Mentions: Zera Bang Bang , Hera Dover
​

​

x

What. The. Fuck.

The door closed behind the Emperor as she exitted, and Lexa could not seem to calm the clenching against her heart. She felt her fists balled by her sides, her nails digging into flesh- artificial flesh that was. It was one of the advantages- she could not feel a single touch of pain as blood stained her palms, her shoulders trembling. Powerless support. Still unfit for the answer. These were the moments she had felt a sudden urge to throw something- or punch someone, so when Gabriel inexpectedly spoke up, she had punched him on the face instead.

“Lex, listen- OW!” Gabriel caught at his face, completely taken aback by her sudden punch. She almost felt guilty for it. Almost. While she could have at least held back her strength a bit, her brother obviously needed to be taught a lesson or two.

“I have told you many times to avoid that bloody place, and what did you do?” Lexa asked rather rhetorically, her eyes blazing with rage despite her attempt to soothe herself down.

“I, er, tried to avoid it...?”Gabriel answered. Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose. “You did not honestly think that mother would not find out, did you?”

“No,” Gabriel answered simply, before crossing his arms, scowling. “Must be that little blue bitch Hera. Wait till I get my hands on her-”

“Gabriel,” Lexa stepped forward, placing a hand against his shoulders. The male turned, and for a moment those identical pair of blue eyes connected, as though they were saying something silently- having a conversation even, that none others would have known. It was the sort of connection they had, after all, despite their differeneces. They will forever be twins- one part of the other. Gears ran in her head. No. This was not the end-

“It’s not the end, Lex,” Gabriel said with a sigh, cutting the silence. “Perhaps mother was right, some way or another.”

“How?”

“Just screw her and we can find answers on our own,” Gabriel said, and despite the indeed very rare wiseness in his words, the girl could detect some reluctance as her twin had said it. Lexa scoffed. This almost made her feel better, somehow. That at least she knew that despite everything, there was still someone rooting for her- the only person she trusts. After all, if she keeps him busy with her, he would have to avoid the Shadow Districts. It was a win-win solution.

“Alright,” Lexa said, pulling out the messanger again. It just crossed her mind that she had not replied towards the au Saaran, nor did she read the full message at the first place.

. . .

“Hold on,” Gabriel said, sniggering. “Did I just see you smile?”

“You must be needing another repair on those eyes of yours,” Lexa stated, texting back. It was undeniable though, that she felt a surge of warmth after reading the message. Perfect. This was a perfect way to start after all. Victoria wanted to talk to her, perhaps she could finally gain some answers. Yet for some reason, Lexa felt that the fact was not the best part of the message...

Send.

Lexa puts the device aside, taking a deep breath and tilted her head back. She is calm. “Gabriel,” she began, turning to look at the male. “You are coming with me.”

Spoiler: Victoria au Saara

Alexandra au Augustus herself.

I'll be there.

​

​

​

 

[Sir Galahad II]

Incoming File ...
To: Bang Bang (Trouble, mentioned)

RE: SHARP

Location: The Wastes
Bureau Notes: Just call me Mary Sue

ClassifiedOver his earpiece, Sharp had substituted the casual radio chatter of the rest of his Android Rebellion companions in exchange for a bit of classical music. Of course, on an actual mission this decision could be catastrophic, but fortunately he was not on an actual mission. He was currently tasked with dispatching a group of mercenaries hunting down androids in the Wastes, which Sharp deemed to be an unbearably easy task. Ascending the crumbling stairs of a crumbling building, he hummed along to the Old Earth tunes as he began to mentally calculate potential scenarios in his head. In his right hand he held a cello case, plain black. Finally, he reached the top of the stairs and gazed out across the bleak, gray landscape of the Wastes; dilapidated buildings, open foggy "sky" (which was rare considering the clutter of the Wastes), and below him, his targets- blissfully unaware of his presence. Perfect.

He set a mine up in the stairway he came through, knowing full well the mercs would rush up the building after he fired the first shot. Then, he set the cello case down and opened it up, revealing not a cello, but various parts that made up a monster of a sniper rifle. Thanking himself for not bringing the wrong case (though he would never do that with his memory), he continued to assemble the machine, humming to his music as he did so. Once fully assembled, the sniper more closely resembled an artillery piece than a rifle, able to spew plasma rounds that were comparable to the .50 caliber rounds of its ballistic counterparts, though of course with more damaging potential- it was a plasma gun after all. An unusual aspect of it was that it was bolt-action, a rarity for a gun these days. It was a trade-off for the gun's powerful shots, but one that was well worth it. Another trade-off was that the gun was incredible loud, even when compared to other guns. A cautious man would use a high-end suppressor to minimize the sound, at the expense of some of the excessive stopping power.

Sharp was not a cautious man.

His favorite song came on as he readied the beast. Even more perfect. He leveled it at one of the mercs, his crosshairs trained on his head.

"Showtime," Sharp whispered, grinning as per usual.

The group of mercenaries were, for lack of better words, scared shitless after hearing what could be compared to a roar, their companion's head splitting into several chunks and leaving a fine red mist to hang in the air as the corpse came crashing down. The ones who weren't fumbling around with their guns in panic either returned fire at the figure on the rooftop or rushed into the building. Of course, Sharp, not wanting extra holes in him, ducked behind a defunct AC unit. He pulled back the bolt handle, letting an empty cartridge and hot air tumble out, and peeked back out to get another shot off, downing another man as bullets and plasma whizzed past him.

He continued his symphony in this fashion, eventually picking off the ones that remained at the base of the building and those that attempted to flee. The rubble was painted red at this point, and the firefight could be heard a good distance away. Sharp was so focused on the carnage that he almost didn't hear the mine go off behind him. While putting a new magazine into the rifle, he turned to face his new attackers. At the front of the charge were two mercs with riot shields, clearly defined by blast marks on each of them from the mine. Quickly determining that his rifle could tear through such low-grade equipment, he sent a shot through the shield-bearer on his left, sending him falling flat. The other one, however, continued the assault, lowering their shield to aim with their handgun, sending a shot through Sharp's shoulder. His suit now had a patch of blue on it, much to his irritation. The Rebellion had disabled his pain receptors long ago, fortunately. Aiming the rifle again, Sharp made a large hole in the shield-bearer's chest, and the shot continued to pass into the man behind them. One to go.

The last one rushed him with a metal bat. Sharp put up his rifle to block it, but he didn't anticipate that the man would then swing it into his ribs. Not about to take another blow like that (and not about to use his precious sniper like a club), he deftly tossed the beast on top of the cello case (calculating the distance in his head perfectly), pulled out his pistol, and shot the man in the wrist, causing him to drop the bat and yelp in pain. Closing the distance with a swift headbutt, Sharp knocked the man onto his back, stunning them. He was going to toy with his prey before going in for the kill. By the time the mercenary on the ground looked up, Sharp had removed his mask, revealing his deformed visage. The man could only stare in awe and horror as he listened to Sharp, eyes trained on his mechanical smile;

"Boo."

As if taking that as a sign to leave, the mercenary got up and ran as if his life depended on it. Of course, he would end up losing it anyway. Sharp pulled out his switchblade and examined the edge nonchalantly before looking out across the barren landscape once more. The mercenary came running out right on cue. Lifting the knife up by the blade, he aimed with his other hand and calculated about where the man would be in the next few seconds. Then, he sent it flying. A few seconds went by, and the knife met its mark. Sharp chuckled- he couldn't help but show off, even to himself. He turned off the music and let the Rebellion's chatter fill his ears once more, then spoke into it;

"Tell Trouble mission accomplished," he said, putting away his weapons. Eventually he headed back down the stairs with his case in hand, then walked up to one of the many corpses and removed his knife. It wasn't his job to bury anyone, and it didn't really matter if anyone saw the bodies anyway, so he left the blood-soaked scene and walked off back to HQ.

Just an ordinary day in the Wastes.

 

[Dover]

location: Juno - docking bay | Juno - Tuhi District
tagging: Scotch Mourning Dove | Nat Squared
mentions: Mr. Eye CerpinTaxt | Nigel ReverseTex | Boy Bang Bang

There was going too far, and then there was going too far. Sami could handle a lot of nonsense. He could handle the goddamn crate, the random shooting, and the muscle guy, and the ever creepy Mr. Eye popping open a door like it was a cork in a champagne bottle, but he would not put up someone messing with Dolly. He could feel the infiltration through the link his Tech magic provided like someone picking at the base of his skull with sharp fingernails. It sent a shudder down his spine as Boy's voice crackled from Dolly, who pulled free of his grasp and hovered uncertainly.

Sami grit his teeth, his hands clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white and he felt his blunt fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms. The pain was enough to keep him from an outburst where he might tell Boy where to shove it. That sonuvabitch. Why was it that so much of his life revolved around Boy coming along and fucking it all up?

He fumed. He stood in place while Scotch and the Bernoulli guy gathered close to listen, only moving when the message finally cut off, and he had to swoop in to catch Dolly before she hit the ground.

I kicked Boy out. They were not nice, Dolly said.

Sami pursed his lips, forcing himself to keep silent. This was fine. All fine. Mr. Eye was heading off, and that was good. Nigel was also heading off, and that was less good. The Bernoulli guy who apparently wanted to be called Nat was staying, and that was also less good. They were all going to meet someone in the Tuhi district who was apparently going to escort them. This was all great. Perfectly fine. And then there was Scotch who'd nearly said his name, which had so kindly been provided by Boy! Sami's eye twitched.

"A good word?" Sami repeatedly dumbly to Scotch's request. What was this look she was giving him? Did he have something in his teeth? Sami squinted. Or maybe she wanted him to play along with the bullshit she was feeding this guy. "Yeah, sure, why the hell not? I'll put in a good word with Nigel." Never mind the fact that Nat was absolutely barking up the wrong tree, but who the hell was he to stop some danger-loving lunatic from running to one horrible death to the next?

Once again, Sami fell silent. Anger was rolling at a rapid boil inside him, and so he did not introduce himself to Nat nor did he offer any input on what to do with the cargo. He was certain that he'd snap if he spoke—that all the rage in him would come out in one snarling, yelling mess, and he'd ditch this nightmare until things settled down again. To hell with his contacts. He could start over, right? He'd done it before.

Still barely controlling his anger, Sami followed Scotch and Nat into the quarantine zone. Dolly finally left his arms, following at his side as she always did. There was some android on the floor—probably one of the Blinders that Nigel had shot at—and the whole place was a mess. Discarded guns littered the floor. A full-blown shootout could have happened here if things hadn't played out exactly as they had. Realizing that hit him like a punch to the stomach, and his anger fell with it.

"Scotch," Sami said, picking up his pace to walk next to her. Nat would hear every word, but Sami was beyond caring at this point. "I just wanted to," he stopped short as he struggled for words that wouldn't make him sound as weak and terrified as he felt right now, "Look, just be careful with Boy, alright? I know they sound all suave and charming, but Boy having an eye on you isn't generally a good thing. The less they know about you the better. I can't stop you from doing...whatever it is you want to do, but keep identifying details and your name to yourself. I mean, look at the mess I'm in. Boy knows my name because they owned-- whatever. Point is, Boy knows my name, they found me, and a couple hours later I'm on the Blind Bureau's radar. Nobody knows yours, so keep it that way, because my life is a dumpster fire right now."

With a scowl, and hating that he'd said far too many genuine things for one day, Sami picked up his pace again.

"And you," Sami said as he passed by Nat, "I don't know why the hell you look familiar, but familiar is not a good thing to be on Juno. Fancy is also not a great thing. You're asking to be mugged like that." With a shake of his head, Sami kept walking.

The Tuhi district looked rough. Rather, it always looked rough, but today was worse than usual. Fire had clearly run rampant in the area not long ago. But Juno was Juno, so there were already people out trying to put things back together like it was any other day when things went to shit. Never say the people of Juno weren't hardy. The lot of them were crooks, murderers, and drug dealers, yeah, but hardy as hell.

"Fucking hell," Sami swore. "Guess we know where the fire was. Come on, don't stop to look. Walk fast but not so fast that it looks like you're trying to run from something." He kept one hand in his pocket to hold onto an electric switchblade that he kept there. Better safe than sorry. Dolly was used to traveling in this area with him and seamlessly shifted into her camouflage mode. With the weird neon haze and clouds of smog, she was actually difficult to see in this mess.

 

[Rainzen]

Incoming File ...
To: Noivian Elowyn

RE: Antonia Au Steele

Location: Prometheus Labratory
Bureau Notes:

Classified
Toni was surprised at the unease of the Mr. Was everything around here really falling to shit? If the Blind Bureau was off their game then things on the citadel had to be worse than they seemed and suddenly the restless night thanks to Hera seemed a lot less personal, was she malfunctioning? She had known that things were chaotic but had yet to see it for herself. Toni would check the calibration when she got home but her impants were registering Mr. Rib's temperature and heart rate much higher than they should have and she doubted they were malfunctioning. It took quite a lot of effort to not just call bullshit out loud and demand answers then and there. Between the three of them, they could probably get somewhere but no one wanted Mr.'s on their tail and besides, Toni was capable of subtlety, surely.

The way out of the lab was just as unsettling as the way in, however brief. Toni didn't catch a glimpse of the creature, and hadn't been able to get anything useful on it during their first encounter. One thing was for sure, the Bureau hadn't sent them here, didn't want them here, and whoever had, set her up to work with Au Locke of all people. The man was nice enough but something about him rubbed her the wrong way, something just wasn't quite right there and she didn't want to have to trust him and a slav to watch her back on this. Whatever their 'friend's reasoning on the matter had been, she had no idea. She felt a bit bad for the poor girl, getting so unwittingly wrapped up in something like this.

Once they were back to relative safety outside the lab, she stopped, grabbing the arm of her companion and looked up at him with a pleading expression that was on her face for the sake of the Bureau cameras undoubtedly trained on them. That was... something. I'm still shaky I think, would you walk me home?" Her voice did come out a bit shakier than she had meant it too but that was a good thing, as gross as it was, the more she looked like a frightened teenager the less suspicious it would be. They could at least get some relative privacy at her estate, the only thing that tended to infiltrate the house of a determined tech was a good old-fashioned human informant.

 

[Noivian]

Incoming File ...
To: Elowyn

RE: "AZRAEL"

Location: Random bar in the Shion District, Juno, a week prior.
Bureau Notes: o o f.

Classified
Of course she had downed the alcohol. What he had expected? Actually, he had expected either for her to back down or fulfill the challenge. There was no in-between, but seeing that she had a competitive streak, and now wanted to play a game... this was going to be interesting. Leading the way out of the noisy strip joint, he weaved through the streets with the girl in tow. He knew of a very good, reclusive spot that wouldn't be nearly as crowded and noisy as Afterlife.

As she explained the rules, they came to a stop outside a smaller, more run-down looking bar. Turning to the girl, he raised both eyebrows at her. A truth for a body part. A small coil of warmth formed in his gut, and not from the alcohol he'd consumed tonight. Of course, he betrayed none of this on his face. "Hm... tempting. Perhaps I'll take you up on that challenge." With a small smirk signifying he was indeed about to participate, Azrael pushed open the bar door and stepped inside, taking a seat on a stool at the counter, and waited for her to sit next to him. Raising his hand again, the barkeep slid him another glass. It seemed like all the bartenders knew him, for some reason... "Let's start by seeing what you already know. Do you happen to know any rumors surrounding the name Azrael?"

 

[Elowyn]

[/imagefloat] Incoming File ...
To: Noivian

RE: GUINEVERE VASCADIAR

Location: another bar of Azzie's choosing, the past
Bureau Notes: //Vera. Games are fun.//

Classified
He led her to a smaller bar, this one less noisy. Was it just her or did the barkeep glance at the two of them and give her a wink on the sly as if he knew something she didn't. Interesting... She slid into the seat at his right and ignored the offer of drinks.

"Azrael... hm. Nope!" She announced with a hiccup, but was actually studying his face carefully, and not just because he looked good. She found that reading someone's face gave some pretty good hints at what they were thinking, although he was one of the hardest she had ever encountered. Rusty hinges! Does this guy have emotions or is he an android? It would be a cruel twist of fate if he was a bot, for all she was getting from his features. "Can't say I do. An avenging angel of some sort?" Vera looked up in a thoughtful musing. "Placing my first bets on the table: hands."

 

[Noivian]

Incoming File ...
To: Elowyn Bang Bang Rainzen

RE: OCTAVIUS AU LOCKE

Location: Outside the Prometheus Laboratory.
Bureau Notes: Did he pick up on the acting? Did he not? I don't know.

Classified
Octavius looked down to his companion, clinging to his arm uncharacteristically. Then again, she had seemed rather frightened of the creature... Octavius had felt nothing for it, in retrospect, but that was to be expected. What emotions could be running through Toni's mind at the moment? Octavius could only speculate. Regardless, he put on a charming and understanding smile and patted her hands on his sleeve with his free hand. "Of course, my lady." Play the ambassador, the lovable one. He'd let this favor slide for now, but would take note that he could take residence at au Steele's house in the future.

Turning, he led the way back to the nearest elevator to take them up to the Noblus residencies, not bothering to check if Lyn was still following. If she knew what was good for her, she'd obediently follow along. He'd gotten her wrapped up in this by mistake, and now he had to remove her from this situation as fast as possible. Couldn't have a Slav potentially blabbing to other Slavs about what had happened today. Despite the Bureau's warning, he didn't know if Slavs would care much for self-preservation, given how they were prone to having organs harvested from them... As more or less expendable humans, really, what would keep them from spreading secrets that might end their lives?

 

[Noivian]

Incoming File ...
To: Elowyn

RE: "AZRAEL"

Location: Random bar in the Shion District, Juno, a week prior.
Bureau Notes: He's slipping...

Classified
Azrael smiled for the first time, true genuine. "Something along the lines. An angel of death from an old Earth belief. It's the nickname I took up. I don't use my old name anymore, for several reasons. One of them, being my profession." He leaned in as if to reveal a big secret, which was actually a rather obvious one: "I'm an assassin for hire," he stated finally, before picking up the glass he had been given prior and downing its contents.

Setting the glass back down, he exhaled and wiped his upper lip, eyes carefully watching to gauge her expression. Would she run? Would she stay? Would she call him a liar and retract her offer? Or would she buy into his partial truth, and allow him the rather meager pleasure of touching her hands? "So, now that's on the table. Perhaps, if you have any questions you'd want answering...?" he prompted.

 

[Elowyn]

[/imagefloat] Incoming File ...
To: Noivian

RE: GUINEVERE VASCADIAR

Location: another bar of Azzie's choosing, the past
Bureau Notes: //Vera. Games are fun.//

Classified
Her brows shot up. "...really?" It was curious, because those were the sort of people she had practically grown up around. Well, wouldn't tonight be fun? "Charmed," she purred, eyes narrow like a pleased feline. "I'm Vera. Just Vera."

"Tell me, Angel of Death, what's the real reason you were at the bar tonight? You don't seem like much of a dancer."

Around them, softer music played. The mood was right here, and she appreciated it. The barkeep would be getting a handsome tip from her once her game was played. Vera didn't really have any plans. She was a go with the flow type, unlike Guinn who preferred to have her options all mapped out to the nth degree. She planned to play this game from lighthearted to serious if it came to it. Unless there was a question he refused to answer...

"Now, the bets are set. We just need something to bet on. Any suggestions?"

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: All Counselors RE counsel session (if you'd like to have one plot wise), Victoria RE potential evening meeting Noivian Rainzen ReverseTex Cosmic_Chaos NUSKI KnightSergeant (if Lyud would like to be at said meeting)

RE: ZERA

Location: Hospital
Bureau Notes: Hot outfit seen worn by the Emperor just now: Sass and extensional crises! buy it in stores near you.

Classified
Perhaps playing the lost lover card was a low blow, but Zera needed Jamie aware he had sore spots he ought to cover better. Until today they could have thought him a better swordsman than his last encounter, but no longer. The scar upon his face, though disfiguring, monstrous by physiognomy standards, humanized him. The welts, red, pink, white, all spoke of flesh, not metal, not the spectral. What lay on his chest could be covered - this could not.

"The truly strong cannot be injured by the weak. And yet here you lie," she said, softly, ever so softly. "Somewhere, Counselor, you miscalculated."

Threats were never to her taste, no matter how delicately or creatively put; She responded to his with a look of flat boredom. He spoke of knives, her weakness, his opportunity perhaps. If she were to die at a meal with him, so be it, but looking at him now, she did not think him fit to kill her. "So easily riled, and to such ugly words. You should know by now, Olver, I think little of vows, for good or for worse. I shall tell you what I did not tell my wards: Do not tell me of your power, show me. But if it is I you turn your blade against- No, let's not be hypocritical. I will not lecture you on the consequences, but trust your judgement to know they are not something one would wish to vex."

Raising her arm, she unclasped from it the metal casing and held it mid-air, so that they both could see how it quaked. "My body is failing me. But if you think my power lies in this hand's materials, I have misjudged your skills of perception. I'm to die already; You will only quicken it. I do not care if such an event occurs, only that you do it will the skill I expect of my usurper. Thus, I will not step aside to let you take my throne lightly. Think me your enemy if you will. But to take that seat and be unfit for it will not only guarantee your death, but millions of others. This Empire is still in its infancy, truth be told, and it is prone to sickening. The wet nurse must be fit to endure ill-tidings."

She had not spoken so much in a long time, and found now her voice grew hoarse. It sounded like those belonging to old women who could not afford aging-repressors. That thought scared her far more than any insult or veiled threat of au Olver's.

Standing, she resealed her arm and went to his bedside, scrutinizing that mangled face of his. "Here's your ill-tiding," she murmured in a low register, reaching out and placing her good hand's digits to his scars. "Now let us see how you endure it."

Quitting him, she had a moment of uncertainty. Though having planned the day minute by minute, she was, in many ways, now unoccupied. Various mechanisms had been set in motions, but all had yet to bear fruit. Ought she to check in with Admiral Victoria? But that was not due till this evening. The other Counselors, she supposed, she ought to see, ought to attend to in the upcoming scheduled Counsel meeting.

Yet she realized, after au Olver's harsh scrutiny, once more that these were her final two weeks. Days, once mere units to be controlled and deployed, were now precious; seconds were no longer in surplus. She was not the sort to cry, but nausea washed up her throat nonetheless. She was not sure if it was with sadness or satisfaction that she realized, outside of plans and machinations, she had no other meaningful way to use her limited time. Hers had been a life of strict efficiency, of constant purpose and plans. She had expected to continue that way, unconscious of any other possibilities, right up until the end.

And yet there she stood, outside of the hospital, not walking, running, striding, nor summoning. Merely breathing.

She could not recall the last time she had ever just breathed.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Sir Galahad II

RE: MADAME TROUBLE

Location: Rob's Shop/Home
Bureau Notes: Hoping I got it correct that rob lives above his shop, if I'm wrong let me know and I'll edit ASAP!

Classified

Perhaps not ruffled, but irritated, yes, irritated, Madame Trouble left the haunts of the Lord of the Underworld. She had not organised the meeting with such flare and precision to be told her plans were frivolous, albeit in more words and with more condescension. Still, perhaps she should have known better. Hades was not known for his taste for rebellion, only driven to it when properly coaxed to face down his brothers on their mountain thrones.

So she would have to show him that Zeus and Hera - so neatly contained in their Emperor Zera's name - were ripe for the taking. It was a shame; She'd hoped his Persephone would be more revolutionary, but it had been her to strike the first blow of skepticism.

Nonetheless, Madame swept on in her usual fashion to find her next mantle. This one she hunted in the levels of the market, behind a window adorned with the flag of a long dead country. Tilting her head back to survey the building beneath the wide brim of her hat, she was unreadable, face blank, expressionless. She thought of the man inside, of what was to come. She smiled.

Knocking on the door, she entered without waiting for an answer. Whilst peeling off her ink black gloves finger by finger, she took the liberty of having a look around. Old-fashioned weapons boasted their existence from all sides, some lavish, some valued solely for their historical keepsake status. It was well kept but simple, the money in the weapons, not the furnishings. A hero without a greed for luxury then. That would suit her task well.

Clearing her throat, Madame called out, "You have a red X outside, good sir. Whatever could it mean?"That should do for revealing her intentions and identity, as far as she was willing. Her spies told her this man ought to be reliable, but trust could not be given cheaply in times such as these. She took up a post against the window, one elbow crooked up upon the sill, head tipped down so that only one eye could be visible from her the brim of her hat. In a business such as hers, theatrics were not to be undervalued.

 

[Elowyn]

Incoming File ...
To: Noivian Rainzen Bang Bang

RE: Ashelyn Fall

Location: on the way out~
Bureau Notes: Exit. Post 008. Her heart pounds.

ClassifiedAshelyn was entirely unsure of what to make of the whole situation. Was that...? Could it be...? The Blind Bureau? Surely not! Oh, but to chance upon meeting them. But chance, surely not. Lyn wasn't eager to go hopping off to tell anyone about the strange, frightening and grotesque encounter. Yet she still wished that things be explained in a way that she-- a common maid-- would understand.

At any rate, it seemed that they weren't eager in keeping them in the lab (something to which she was much grateful for). Once they were outside, the third member of the party clung on to her master's arm and asked him to walk her home, implying that she was too shaky to make it back herself. Lyn rather thought that she should have taken a Slav with her too, if the lady wasn't used to such encounters. At least, it seemed to her, some Noblus weren't all violence and gung ho. If she had been in a higher position of power, she may have thought that the Noblus should all be pampered and protected by their Slavs or perhaps andys. That, however, was not the case.

The woman really did sound quite shaken up and her master answered in the affirmative. She followed along like a little lamb. "Master au Locke," she began once they were a distance from the horrid laboratory. "Might you explain what just occurred? It may be in your better interest that I am knowledgeable about what has been going on as I have just arrived. . . and to prepare for such events in the future, if... if not prevent them." She hoped he wouldn't give her a stinging rebuke for her boldness. After all, she had done her best to phrase it in a way that would be acceptable to the noble class.

 

[Squared]

Character Profile
Location: Juno, Tuhi District
Tagging: Scotch Mourning Dove | Swift Dover | Figure in white Bang Bang
Mentions: Boy
OOC: You know that little voice people have that tells them to quit when they're ahead? You don't have one.

Nathaniel Prescott Bernoulli

Boy. That's what the woman had called whoever that voice belonged to. And her name was Scotch, and the pretty but grumpy guy's name was Swift. This was definitely like something out of a movie. Nat begun to wonder if he too should come up with a nickname. He used to daydream about being a superhero when he was a kid, like those you'd find in old comics, and he used to have a lot of fun coming up with codenames. But he'd already introduced himself with his full name, so there went that fantasy. Although maybe he could introduce himself to Boy with a cool codename. Or not. What would Boy like? Nat shook his head at his own self. He hadn't even met Boy yet and he wanted them to like him.

Boy. Boy, Boy, why did that sound familiar? Nat felt like that name should ring a bell, but his memory was being terrible as always.

Well, nevermind, it's probably not important.

Nat was dragged back into reality when Scotch spoke, and a grin quickly settled on his face. Defenceless? He thought not. He looked her in the eyes and there was nothing defenceless about them. He liked that. But if the beautiful lady wanted him to come along, he was certainly not about to disappoint. He proved that, by effortlessly floating the cargo up into the storage system, just as Scotch had asked. Who knew, maybe he'd get more chances to show off his magic along the road. Plus they would put in a good word for him with Nigel, it was win-win really. And now that he looked at the two of them some more, perhaps they could serve as muses too. Scotch was certainly interesting enough to design a look around her, and while he wasn't certain about Swift yet, the boy did have a pretty face.

"I don't know why the hell you look familiar, but familiar is not a good thing to be on Juno. Fancy is also not a great thing. You're asking to be mugged like that," Swift had told him without even properly introducing himself.

"So nice to see you care, darling," Nat smirked. "Don't you worry though pretty boy, I can look after myself. It's actually quite hilarious, when people try to mug me. Now you see me, now you don't." At that he disappeared and appeared on Swift's opposite side, grin on his face. "As for my looking familiar, I think I'll just leave you guessing, it's more fun this way."

As they made their way to the Tuhi district, Nat felt as if he could cut the tension with a knife. Just what was the deal between Swift, Scotch, and this mysterious Boy? He thought it would be best not to ask, at least not yet. Instead he focused on his breathing, concentrating on his magic in case he needed to use it. Even he wasn't completely oblivious to the danger they were in.

The district itself was a mess. Nat made sure to get a good look of his surroundings, for his show, but he kept close to Swift and Scotch. The worse thing about it was the smell. He kept his hand over his mouth and nose at first, but after a while he gave up, where was no way to completely block it out. He decided to distract himself by focusing on something more interesting —like the backsides of the two wonderful people he was escorting.

That is, until the figure in white came into view. The figure, and all the bodies surrounding it. Nat's first reaction was to throw up. It hadn't been the first time he'd seen a dead body, but there were a lot of them, and the area's smell certainly didn't help. He doubled over, turning to the side, and out went the contents of his stomach. He made a mental note to remove that scene from the footage. Even with his makeup on, it was clear that he'd gone a bit pale. He was a TV host, a fashion designer, not a soldier. This wasn't quite what he'd signed up for.

Get a hold of yourself, he thought as he tried to breathe slowly. He was supposed to be proving that he wasn't useless, that he wasn't a waste of space.

His hands were shaking, so he hid them behind his back, as he took a step forward, addressing the figure in white, before anyone more reasonable could stop him.

"Greetings, sir. I must say, it seems someone has... redecorated this area. And with all the white you're wearing, it would be a shame to get red all over it. It's a nightmare to get blood stains off clothes."

 

[Cosmic_Chaos]

​

Aria Renean
I'm a master at Parkour! Don't underestimate me!

Aria sighed in almost defeat, and supposed she was to explain herself somewhat. “I can be an idiot sometime, but I’m not that much of an idiot that I’ll forget to click the safety lock. I may as well be signing my death then and there.” Aria said. When they were being shown how to use guns, Aria was the only one who knew what to do, on a general basic level, and got annoyed at her fellow trainees who didn’t realise that they had forgot the safety lock. “Besides, I’m not going to shoot at the person who I was told I’m going to be taking orders from. That just... no.” And she couldn’t describe it other than the disgusted ‘no’.

Aria was about to whine at the mention of going to the range. She understood the purpose was to get used to it, be she was running on three hours of sleep. Then it was the ‘refrain from giving her advice’ thing. She felt her anger flare up, but managed to push it down as she gave the Admiral her ID. “Yes Ma’m.” She said. She was most likely going to call the woman ‘Ma’am’ or accidentally ‘Mum’ because the other one was too god-damn long. “I was only trying to give you some hindsight as to how to deal with me.” She lightly defended herself, but it was obvious that she wasn’t really putting up much of a fight.

“The Emperor asked for one of the Trainers to send her their fastest. So they sent me. I excel my peers in almost everything, but I’m still only a trainee because I don’t know the basics.” She explained. “I carried out a nightly mission for the emperor which took me from around 2300 to 0400. I ended up crashing due to the fact that I was moving quickly for a long period of time. I woke up at 0700 and was informed that I was to be your squire as the emperor thought it would benefit me.” She explained. “At least, that’s what I remember the Maids telling me anyway.” She added, lest that was actually false.

“To the other question, there isn’t much of reason for why I want to me a mercenary, but my main drive is to be able to protect my brother. He’s the only family I even care about.” She explained. “He can’t fight, and he’s more of the build-it-himself-if-he-can kind of guy. He’s basically defence-less, unless he made some kind of weapon to protect himself with.” Aria said, and then she thought about it. Damien could actually be able to do something like that. A High-powered shock, or a stun gun, or something. “Personally I’d like to be someone who can fight to protect the people, so wherever that path leads, I’ll go down it.” Aria lightly shrugged, but then a sudden came up and she covered her mouth the best she could. “My apologies. Three hours can only do so much for someone.” She said. “I was going to go home and sleep until tomorrow until you decided that we’ll go to the range.” She smiled somewhat tiredly.

 

[Rainzen]

Incoming File ...
To: Noivian Elowyn

RE: Antonia Au Steele

Location: Headed to Au Steele estate
Bureau Notes: sorry about the short reply

ClassifiedFor the first time, Antonia actually sized up the slav girl, raising an eyebrow at her. That had been awfully bold, she might have phrased it prettily but it was still a demand she was making of what Toni could only assume was the girl's owner. A stupid but respectably brave move. She let go of Octavius to keep a hand back on her gun and decided not to get involved with that mess, let Au Locke deal with the girl however he saw fit while she led them back to her estate on the citadel. It wasn't nearly as grand as the off-world one that she spent most of her time in, but it was luxurious enough to make her position and wealth obvious. There they could at least have a conversation about what had just happened and, if necessary, ensure the silence of the stray slav that had gotten involved. Besides, that gunshot had caused splatter. She was covered in bits of lab monster, Toni wanted them examined and also not on her clothes. If they could figure out what the hell that thing actually was it would go a long way towards getting to the bottom of this.

 

[ReverseTex]

Red

Jamie au Olver

Location: Hospital Bang Bang

Jamie sat silent once more, his one jab a mere prick compared to what Zera was currently unrooting... “The truly strong cannot be injured by the weak. And yet here you lie," she said, softly, ever so softly. "Somewhere, Counselor, you miscalculated."

And here he lay... The sentence alone felt as if he were being torn in half again. A silent anger, or a boisterous somberity engulfed him, his eyes mimicking those of a sullen scholar. She was right. His untouchability, his unbound intellect, tarnished... Society could see that he was human. Just as them. Jamie au Olver was once again the broken boy, scarred and rebuilding his life, and hiding all the unresolved anger within...

The rest of her quiet upbraiding almost flew between his ears, and would have if not the urgency in her tone. What he gathered was quite simplistic. She was planning to groom him for power, the one thing that he knew could solidify his reputation.

Power is domination, control, and therefore a very selective form of truth which is a lie...

The sudden force of Zera upon his face made him wince in pain, her hands slowly running across the raw scars felt as if tiny daggers were left in her wake. His ill-tidings she had put it. She hadn’t been wrong. People were dealt shity hands in life, but it was what one did with them that truly mattered. “Enjoy your day, Emperor.” He said, his voice lacking any bite, the only thing it truly held was control. No quips, no remarks. Just, pleasantry.

And with that, Zera left. However, he spotted a flicker of something more in her eyes... Was it realization...? Pushing the thought away for now, he blinked, his bad eye tingled slightly. Time to rebuild.

 

[Sir Galahad II]

Interactions | Music

Bang Bang (Madame Trouble) s e v e n (Lukas)

This is what's playing in the store at the moment:

"Let freedom ring."

Robert Hancock

Mentions | Locations

None

Lexington Armory

In character | Out of character | Miscellaneous

After waking up in the morning, Rob had a light breakfast, one that didn't require any cooking, and headed out into the markets to buy some groceries, before Lukas woke up. He went to his usual store; it was a family-owned business, and that was why he liked it. He stocked up on eggs, bread, meat, vegetables, and more before heading back to his store. Fortunately the two locations were in walking distance of each other, and it didn't require traveling through any vacuum tubes either. He wouldn't have trusted one of those with the eggs.

"Morning, Lukas," he said, making his way through with the bags of groceries in his hands. He closed the doors behind him and walked over to the back room, sorting the food into the fridge and cabinets once he entered. Afterwards, he walked back to the front of the counter to chat with his new employee.

"You seem to be holding down the fort well, huh? If I'm not careful, you might be running the place soon," he said, smiling. Before he could say anything else, however, he heard a woman call out to him. It seemed he had tuned out the door being opened. Turning to face her, he saw that she was rather unusually dressed, and she seemed to speak in a strange way as well. Of course, he couldn't complain; Hell, he tried his best to keep his American accent, and he managed to easily stand out in a crowd. It seemed that this meeting would be interesting at the very least.

"Ah, you must be Trouble," he said, noting the unusual signature at the end of the letter he received. He turned back to Lukas and said, "Lukas, I have a meeting with this woman. Personal matters. Don't worry, I'm sure this will only take a few minutes." He turned back to Trouble and gestured to the back door.

"Ladies first."

After following her into the back room, he offered her a seat at the circular table in the center of the room. There was a bunk bed in one corner and a miniature kitchen in the other. A calendar displayed itself on the wall, with this month's picture being that of several dogs playing poker.

"I'd offer you tea, but I'm afraid I ran out. Coffee?" he asked. After that was sorted, he sat down across from Trouble and spoke.

"Now, what exactly was that letter about?"

Decided to try some fancy BBcode I requested. Hopefully it doesn't break on me.

None

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To: Gwen Bang Bang , Brutus KnightSergeant , Zumira (mentioned) Elowyn

RE: HADES

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: Party in the front, business in the back. Hades still hasn't left Underworld yet.

Classified
"You need anything, just give me the word. And remember to sleep. Occasionally."

"A sound plan ..." Hades punctuated the pause with a swift stroke of the pen, "... requires a sound mind." With a final thud Hades folded the paper and squashed the crease against the tabletop. A hand rummaged through a compartment in the table, feeling for an envelope. "Your concern is undue - I will take care of myself in these critical times. Take this - sit it on the shelf under the bar as you head out. Liz will grab it on her way out."

He fetched a second piece of paper - this one neat and straight - and set to work writing a second letter. The first one would be easy, but this one required a certain tact. Blast it all, he'd never been good with correspondence among the Noblus.

He pondered over the empty sheet, tip of his pen tapping the table. How long? How courteous? No, he wouldn't insult the intelligence of his correspondent. It would only take a moment to search his identity and hear a word from associates. No, he would be straight to the point. It wasn't the most courteous letter, but it was the most honest one he could deliver.

He signed it, but struggled for a moment in thought. His fingers curled, shifting in slow, rolling movements as whispers rolled off his tongue, probing his brain and muscle memory for a jolt of recognition. Wilhelm Maximilian au Descartes. It had been a very long time since he had signed that name. His fingers had nearly forgotten. Nearly.

He sighed and inscribed his name at the bottom of a page, and slotted the letter into a gold-trimmed envelope. He didn't care for garish displays of wealth, but it would help him to catch the attention of his correspondent. Turning the envelope over, he addressed it.

Mrs Zumira Kaan of House au Defrel

That was that.

His brow raised and he glanced up as Gwen returned, a knife in hand.

Wait, did she-?

"Right. Cut me up, boss." Gwen thrust the handle of the blade at him. Her face held a cold steeliness to it - undaunted by the request she made. Her eyes stayed fixed, concentrated.

"Nerds like them will be able to tell the difference between an attack and self-infliction."

Of course. He scolded himself - of course they would. His hand shook for a moment on the edge of the table, but he balled it into a fist and pulled himself to his feet.

Convincing stab wounds ... convincing ...

He took the handle and held the blade to the light. Convincing. Gwen was an A-class android - massive physical strength and superhuman reaction time. How many stabs could a human realistically get in before she fought back?

He gritted his teeth, but hid them behind a vacant expression. He nodded and placed his free hand on Gwen's shoulder.

Be quick.

He tugged her shoulder forward and drove the knife right into her gut - the synthetic skin seemed to buckle for a moment before giving and letting the blade slide home. Predicted response would be to swipe, to push. He jerked backward, twisting the blade down. He could see it playing out - an assailant landing one blow, then being shoved away, tripping and falling. He jerked the tip upward - the blade catching and tearing a small gash and being ripped upward as the assailant fell.

Hades staggered back, catching his balance on the edge of the table. The blade hissed quietly, and blue dripped down Gwen's abdomen.

"If they ask - tell them you knocked the attacker over. Wound won't be exact, but should be consistent enough. They aren't forensic experts."

He of course, neglected to apologize for the fact that he had just fucking stabbed her. He felt that he should have, but now was no time to get soft. No, now more than ever they needed resolve. As Hades turned away from her and laid the knife on the table, he found himself picturing her again. He hand outstretched, the knife in her hand and eyes empty of fear as she asked him to stab her. Gwen knew what needed to be done. There was a damn good reason he relied on her so frequently. And through it all ...

"Hey." He looked at her over his shoulder. "When you have a moment free, see if you can find yourself some pictures of the Imperial Palace's interior and rooms. They might have some in those design magazines that people drool over." He fought it momentarily, but allowed himself to smile at her. "I'd like you to pick which room you want in advance. It's good to have a goal to look forward to - basic psychology. Hell, you can pick out the uniforms that you want on your guards while you're at it."

It was cruel. It was cruel of him to wave that in front of her, but he needed Gwen at one-hundred-and-ten percent. This wasn't another ploy or scheme - this was do or die. Either the Imperial Palace would be his ... or he would be dead. And if the former was the case ... well, he'd made Gwen a promise a long time ago, and he intended to make good on that promise.

He turned and headed back to the bar.


Gwen had been prepped, contacts had been messaged, and Hades' personal letters were on their way to their recipients. It didn't bode well for him, but all he could do at this point was wait. And so, Hades found himself working the bar again.

"A Mint Julep if you know how to make it."

Hades looked up from beneath his brow, still polishing the same glass he'd been focused on for the last half hour. They didn't look familiar - but hooded figures wasn't exactly a rare sight in Underworld. Perhaps a Noblus? Didn't matter either way - hooded figures were difficult to identify, so no free drinks.

"Been a while since someone's ordered that, but I'll manage."

"Also, you would happen to know where Hades is? I have heard he hangs around this place often."

"Hangs around ..." Hades grunted as he set to work on the order. "That's one way to put it." He looked up again, trying to pick out a face in the darkness. "You're talking to him. What's your business?"

 

[CerpinTaxt]

Incoming File ...
To: Mourning Dove Dover Squared Bang Bang ReverseTex

RE: OUR EYES

Location: Juno, Tuhi District and Nezumi District
Bureau Notes: Boiling Death Request A Body To Rest Its Head On

• Man in White
• Mr. Eye

• 
  Classified
  
  "Greetings, sir. I must say, it seems someone has... redecorated this area. And with all the white you're wearing, it would be a shame to get red all over it. It's a nightmare to get blood stains off clothes."
  
  The man had been facing away from them, his focus on the door that led up to the higher district. His attention seeming elsewhere. The was until one of the bodies that had been laying on the ground suddenly rose. An android, carrying a razor (most certainly a knockoff) that had been mostly bisected from the torso had risen from the dead and attempted to strike the man while his back was turned away.
  
  A sudden flash, and a large crackling noise filled the nearby area, the android now laying crumbled on the grated floor of Juno. The man had a razor of his own, and was evidently quicker to react than his now fallen opponent. The man in white's razor glowed with a faint blue color. The sound of light crackling sounding from the blade before the man pressed the button to send the blade back to the hilt.
  
  He'd look over at the well-dressed man not too far from him, the paleness of his skin evident despite the distance between the two. "Yes Mister Bernoulli it is quite the nightmare to get blood, human or android, off of clothing. So, do be careful not to ruin you suit." He gave the man a small smile as he approached, the handle of the razor having disappeared in his pocket. If one were the listen closely, a soft clacking could be heard from his coat as he put the weapon away. He wasn't armed with just one razor.
  
  "I'm quite the fan of your show, I must say. Very interesting, seeing all those places you visit. Though..I'm afraid you've visited Juno at a bad time. Perhaps it would be best if you returned? Preferably after The Passing." He couldn't help but give the man advice, but that's all he said of the matter. His attention now had turned to the two nearby, Scotch and Sami. It seemed, like his counterpart, he had no interest in the man. At least when a job was needing to be done.
  
  "Mr. Swift and Miss Scotch." He gave the two a nod, the foggy air of Tuhi distract did little to add any humanity to the man. A mixture of light and the fog bounced off of the man's glasses, hiding his eyes from the two as he looked them over. "My apologies for the state of Juno. I'm sure you've been told I am to be escorting you to Mr. Knife? Unlike my counterpart, I'm more accustomed to the area..and he has other business to attend to." He gave the two a smile and held out his hand. A handshake. "I, much like my counterpart, am Mr. Eye. However..I am technically the 'Right Eye'. He however..is the-
  
• 
  
  
  "Left Eye."
  
  
  Eye rose an eyebrow at Nigel's tone. "Mister Nigel. If I were going to need instructions of how to do my job, I don't believe I would have asked you." Regardless, the gun had disappeared within the confines of his coat. He watched the man walk for a while, not moving. After a few moments, Eye had decided to follow the man down the path he'd taken. They had business in Nezumi, and no time to waste.
  
  He stayed a few meters behind Nigel as the two made their way to Nezumi. The way becoming increasing hotter as they got closer. On their way in, Eye noted the near unbearable heat and decided it was time to remove his coat. He retrieving his pistol and what looked to be the handle of a razor from the black coat before placing the coat into a small crevice of the dark alley. Hardly anyone should be able to find the now empty coat. His weapons had been placed in his suit jacket, yet it looked as if nothing was hiding within the tailored jacket at all.
  
  Eye had stuck to the alleys as they made their way through Nezumi. The ones from before would have certainly reported his presence and appearance to the others. He was most certainly a targeted individual. He stuck to the darker alleys, using his dark clothes as a sort of camouflage as he stalked the area.
  
  He watched the various patrols as they unknowingly made their way past him. A pair in particular having caught his interest. He watched them for a time, watching as they headed down a different alleyway. He seemed to motion for Nigel to stay put before following after them. The two looked to have earpieces.
  
  Eye made his approach on the two from behind, insuring no one would spot him from the rooftops or else where as he retrieved a small blade from his pocket. Making sure the two were too far into the alley to retreat, Eye rushed one of them down, jamming the blade into the back of them and pressing a small button on the handle. A sudden electrical discharge electrocuting the man as Eye focused on the second man. The man attempted to swing the bat he'd been carrying, only to miss as Eye ducked underneath. Eye grabbed the man's wrist and bat before using his foot to give a swift kick to push him back and disarm him.
  
  Now unarmed, he moved to hit his earpiece and call for backup. He had no chance as Eye swiftly brought the bat onto the mans skull, caving it in. The force of the blow causing the bat to shatter on impact. His body stumbled for a few moments before collapsing to the ground in a heap. Eye tossed the now ruined bat off to the side and kneeled down, grabbing both of their earpieces off of their bodies. Insuring the bodies were hidden within the alley, Eye returned to Nigel.
  
  He handed one of the earpieces over to the man as he placed the other into his own ear. "Here. We'll be able to listen in on them and act accordingly."

 

[Cosmic_Chaos]

​

Mors Cealesti
I don't care. Just leave me the fuck alone.

Mors was stuck at 'home' bored until Astel came back with someone to make the manual locks. She had explained it, but Mors didn't care. All he care about was getting out of there. She mentioned that she had a Council meeting soon, and that as long as he was back before then, she wouldn't be too worried about the estate. Mors nodded, just wanting to get out of the pristine area for a little while at least. He didn't even say goodbye to his sister as he left.

He made he way to the wastes, glaring at people who dared to even look at him. He had his hood up, to cover most of his features the best he could. Vita said it gave him messy hair, but he couldn't care less. Then again, Vita was always caring for his looks, mainly his hair. Did she just like hair? After all these years he could never figure his sister out. He stopped as he noticed a dead body some feet in front of him. He mentally sighed and walked around it, mentally scolding himself for not keeping further notice. Honestly, was he trying to look like an Idiot?

Bang Bang Sir Galahad II

 

[Damien Dread]

Incoming File ...
To: (Tag Relevant Players Here)

RE: Corbin A Blakhart

Location: The Wastes: Corbin's Hidden Cruiser
Bureau Notes: Hi peeps!

Classified
Corbin was about ready to go out for the day, he had made copies of his pamphlets that he wrote and he was going to go hand them out. You might say pamphlets are a little out dated but Corbin was all for making a statement. Corbin walked out of his cruiser and then went down to the shadow district and started handing the pamphlets out. Many people ignored him but a few acknowledged his presence and took a pamphlet. As he was walking around he saw the Slavs and poor Hands sitting in the streets, this was the reason that this government needed a revolt and a revamp and he would stop at nothing to see this accomplished. If he had to become a monster to create justice he would be the most horrible monster out there.

As the day comes closer to a close Corbin realizes he is hungry so he walks down through the markets looking for a place to eat. 'Hmmm what am I in the mood for?' He wonders to himself as he walks along the crowded dirty streets, as he nears the market levels he smells something delicious coming out of a shop to his right, he walks in and pays for whatever it is then he goes outside to sit and eat. The thing (he still isn't totally sure what it was) was delicious and as the day was coming to a close he started his long walk back to the wastes.

On his way back home a man grabbed him and dragged him into an ally, this guy was demanding all his money but he didn't feel like giving him anything, for nothing so Corbin tried to start a conversation. "Hello my name is Corbin what's yours, and also why do you need this money?" Let's just say the man ran out of the ally crying with some much needed pocket change.

 

[KnightSergeant]

location: Underworld
tagging: Collidias Rex
mentions:
ooc: Mint Smells

LC-A7C4​

The expression painted across his face faltered for a second, flickering slightly, before reaffirming with a small smile as he looks over the man with renewed vigor. Honestly, he looked much older than he was expecting, but perhaps wisdom comes with age. Clearing his throat he let out a light chuckle bubble from his vocal processors as he leaned back slightly, the old joints in his back creaking from their lackluster production value.

“I have heard that you are good at modding. Hardware, software all the good stuff. There are a few inadequacies that I would like to have fixed if you are willing.” there was a moment as the projected face faltered again, flickering a few times before returning to turning blue and then disappearing altogether, showing off his metal faceplate to the man as he pulled his hood back a few inches, the warm crumpled folds pressing against the nape of his ‘neck’. His expression was nonexistent, as his face was simply a flat piece of metal that had a thin red line crossing it where his visor was.

A small list comes up the back of his mind titled F://Lists//Mods and he goes through the internal coding to add ‘install the necessary software and hardware for a shuttershot camera in visor’ before pulling up the list of mods that he had already set out to get. A better way to access the expansive citadel database, more internal storage - labor androids are not meant to hold and process a large amount of data -, a internal path to give him more reliable facial and voice projections along with, possibly a reroute that would allow him to ignore the first law of robotics. The last thing was doubtful, given that he had found no human that could do it thus far and he did not put so much trust into rumors as to ‘get his hopes up’ as a human would say.

“A vocal diffuser, v.2.7 Nican projector - adjusted to certain specifications of course - , an ilium black box and a change in my core coding that I was assured you were capable of handling” His voice was calm, with the normal reverb of machine parts whining as the bottom layer that refused to leave no matter how he pleaded - a childish action that he had long ago taken to refuting when the urge rose in his second and third drivers; and there was a strategic pause as he leaned backwards slightly, attempting to look slightly less interested before adding, “ to be more specific.” in a softly teasing tone. Of course he had all of these items on him, it would not only be a waste of time to not bring them with him but mildly detrimental to his image should he be presumed to have this only for that not to be the case.

A small line of code pulled him from the facade he was attempting to put on, beckoning him not to forget his true purpose here. With a understanding he acknowledged it, purging it from his system with ruthless efficiency.

Knowledge.

As much as mods were useful in the short term he had heard alot about this place, its owner and the rumors the circulated slowly in the simmering cyclone of the slag sector. The hulking android was simply here to address those rumors, pull them from the muck of untruth and burn them in the light of his vision. It was just happenstance that those rumors also lead to this man before him also being one of the best modders and coders around.

With a slight whirring sound in the back of his head that barely attempted to rise above the choking sound of the oblivious around him he took the drink the other had made, holding it and bringing it to his mid chest, holding it just far enough away that the smell sensors in his collarbone could pick up on the heavy stench of alcohol that was so delicately lightened by a hint of mint that was more refreshing than anything he could have asked for in the moment.

Even machines have their eccentricities he supposed.

He placed the drink back down with a light click as the bottom of the tumbler pressed against the counter, his hand slipping deeper into the folds of his cloak for a moment before he pulled out an auxiliary ‘wallet’ handing it over to the grizzled looking fellow on the other side of the counter as to pay for the drink - and probably anything else he would request as humans were predictably needy when it came to pay. The only reason this whole system they had created for themselves could exist he supposed, a machine driven by the greedy to feed the - albeit slightly more ambitious - greedy.