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

[RiverGamer]

Incoming File ...

To:Mentions - Lukas Santiago - @_707_, Aria Renean - Cosmic_Chaos .

RE: Aritafae 'Fate' Alexander

Location: Lexington Armory (Level 4 Market), then Shadow Districts (exact area undetermined)

Bureau Notes: “What's meant to be will always find a way” ― Trisha Yearwood. You will find me putting quotes about fate as a way of conveying the irony of Aritafae's nickname and of giving insight into how she thinks. Sorry if it's an odd thing to do.



ClassifiedFate just stood and watched as this well dressed woman just strolled into the store watching every nook and cranny of the store. Should I chance it? She as guards, mean looking ones at that, and it's not like I haven't already acquired something to sell and get me by....Fate just watched as the woman just interrupted the one-sided conversation of the young teens. Deciding against stealing for the reason of not fancying the idea on being caught by Miss Stone-Face's guards (as Fate decided to call her due to her still and neutral expression.) and losing her hard-earned loot.
Fate walked around trying to figuring out what she wanted do next. She started venturing to the Shadow Districts just to surround herself with noise and maybe find someone in which to sell her acquired jewellery to. Fate walked down one particular street where she knew a JoyBar to be located, not tat she'd ever went into one herself or ever wanted to, she knew that around the area would be at least one person who she could sell the jewellery to. She walked and found a small group of people standing outside the building. Fate could tell that they were all there separately wit maybe one or two chatting to others close by. Strolling towards each of the persons within the small cluster, she would quickly slip her hand into their pockets and take whatever goodies she could grab. If there were two people having a conversation, then she'd chat them up and take when they were unaware of anyone but her.
Fate soon found no other potential pickpocket victims and opted to stand around to find another unsuspecting person of which she could obtain nice new things from. Hopefully I strike rich this time. Fate couldn't help but grumble as she patiently waited....​

 

[ReverseTex]

Jamie au Olver

Location: The Agency Bang Bang

Jamie sauntered into the office of The Agency’s commander, Ariel, his hands tucked loosely in his pockets. His guards stood outside, out of earshot and out of mind. But as he stopped in front of her desk, he studied the captain with his icicle of eyes. She was nervous, though her expression told a different story, it was crystal clear for one who could look past military appearances.

“Good day Captain Ariel, I do hope my whore carried my message correctly. You’d be surprised how many secrets they can milk from a person... I bet I know more about your men than you do...!” He began to slowly pace around the office, a habit he had when he liked to think. “Anyhow, I transferred a small payment to you directly this morning to ensure your silence, and I will be delivering more once we settle this agreement. And by the looks of it, you’re intrigued.”

“So here’s what I want. I want The Agency in its entirety, loyal to me alone. Any command I give you must flow through the veins of your thousands of armed men, we act as one. This undivided loyalty must stay silent, or else i’ll have my people take care of any leakers...” Pausing to allow a moment of reflection for the captain, he continued. “You shall receive payment from my personal guard directly, one a week. It will substain enough to pay yourself handsomely, as well as your officers. I will keep this up for the two weeks of the Passing, and if I am voted Emperor I will promise you my seat on the Council, that is if you agree on any of my policies... If I fail to be voted in, I will contact you directly to start a coup, but I doubt that it will come that that.” Jamie ran a hand through his silver hair, a amused smile on his face.

“So Captain, do you agree to these terms..?”

 

[Dover]

location: The Docks
tagging: Mr. Eye CerpinTaxt
mentions: Scotch Mourning Dove | Boy Bang Bang
ooc: nothing embarrasing to see here folks

Sami 'Swift' Tanyag​

There were times where all the sense in his body was conspicuously absent. This was one of those times. Sami just stood there, eyes widening as the man sitting by the cargo crate set his holopad down, got up with briefcase in hand, and approached. In any other situation, Sami would have run. He was good at that, despite the whole leg issue. Even with the withdrawal problem, he could probably still run a good clip faster than most people. Probably couldn't keep that up for very long, however. Despite all these things, despite knowing that he was likely in serious danger, Sami didn't move a muscle until the man stopped a few short meters away and spoke.

What?

"Uh, hello. No, I uh... I didn't know anyone else would be coming." Sami cleared his throat uncomfortably, though the discomfort remained as soon as the man said his name. Mr. Eye? Mr. Eye. As in a Mister. Was it too much to hope that this guy wasn't related to that shadowy organization? Maybe he just really liked the aesthetic? Was Sami expected to give his name too? "I'm Sami-- Swift. I mean, I go by Swift. Because the whole... yeah." Fuck. The withdrawal was already making him feel cold and clammy, but hell if he didn't feel worse now with all this talk about suddenly changed plans and Mr. Knife. Sami wondered how much even Boy knew about this.

"It's no problem," Sami said quickly, eager to show that he had no intention that he was going to cause issues or that he was the slightest bit inconvenienced by the change of plans. "My partner is, uh, on her way. Just getting her ship. She should be here any minute now." He'd never wanted to see Scotch so much in his life. "She's pretty good with the whole, uhm, piloting thing. Should be able to handle a meteor storm." Why was he still talking? He needed to keep his head down and play meek. Not that he wasn't doing a fantastic job of playing the stumbling fool already. "I have no questions, Sir-- Mr. Eye." Were Misters okay with being called sir? Or was it exclusively Mr.? Sami didn't want to hang around one long enough to find out.

Keeping a healthy buffer of space between himself and Mr. Eye, Sami approached the cargo but left some distance away from that took. Dolly bumped repeatedly into the back of his calves as he walked. "Would you cut it with the camouflage?" Sami whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "You're fooling no one." With what sounded like a resigned beep, Dolly dropped the camo, returning to a solid-looking and not flickering form.

Sami looked the cargo they were supposed to transport up and down. If he wasn't suspicious enough before, this confirmed all his worries that something else was off besides an organ transport. It was weird enough that they were being contracted to send something to Mr. Knife, but now a Mister for an escort too? So that left two options. Either whoever's body parts were in there belonged to someone who was extremely important, or there weren't body parts in there. Either explanation would account for why he and Scotch had been paid so much. And why there was an escort. And why Mr. Eye still seemed keen to transport during a goddamn meteor storm.

This was becoming an awful roulette wheel of ways to die. What was it going to be? Assassination by whoever this Mr. Eye guy was? Death by a meteor to the ship? Would Mr. Knife chop them up into teeny tiny bits once they arrived? Maybe death by Agents once they got wind of a high-value container being transported? Or maybe they'd survive all that, and Boy would decide that yes, they would like the rest of Sami's organs!

He wished Scotch were here. He was going to be over the moon with relief first, and then he was going to strangle her for getting him into this mess.

 

[NUSKI]

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

RE: VICTORIA

Location: Level One - Theta District, Victoria's Private Quarters
Bureau Notes: next post w/ linc

Classified


Victoria smiled and nodded, making sure to keep her lips sealed. When the door to her office closed, Victoria quickly removed her shaking hands from the desk and sat on them, breathing heavily. When she gave Zera her answer, she was confident but now... she felt a terrible pit of darkness in the bottom of her heart that wouldn't go away. Sure, she was given a great responsibility with a more than respectable prize waiting for her at the ending but she still lost. Now that she thought about it, she had never talked to Zera this closely before. Anytime before this was at a formal setting. If she didn't accept her offer she could have easily disbanded her army or demoted her to a Crewman rank. Victoria tightened her fists, glaring at the door where the Emperor left, ashamed that she was put into a corner like this. She wasn't upset that she had to turn on the other Houses, in fact she looked forward to them seeing the might of Victoria au Saara. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had been played. She was most likely a tool in Zera's end game. She had about two weeks to leave and she wanted to go out with a bang. The easiest way to do that was with a loyal au Saara dog.

Victoria's glance moved over to hands which were now laying on her lap. She opened them up, seeing that the palms of her hands were bleeding. Her nails weren't particularly long so she found it surprising that she was able to make a single cut without noticing it.

"Are you okay?" Phillip said, making Victoria's head lift up so fast the back of her neck became sore. for a Slav, he was oddly interested in the life of a Noblus. Even so, she would not involve him in something like this.

Victoria slowly slid her hands behind the chair she was sitting on and put on a fake smile. "I'm fine child. I need to talk to you about you-"

"I saw the blood" he quickly interrupted before Victoria could finish her sentence. Her face went back to normal, almost into a frown as she put her hands out in front of her. "Does she scare you?" Phillip asked, only to be met with a scoff and an amusing look from her master.

"I am not scared of anyone child. Remember that" the Fleet Admiral said as she stood up and grabbed a nearby box of tissues. "Life has just greeted me with a surprise. That is all. As I was saying, I am going to hire mentors for you. I want you to be smart. Like me, of course!"

"If you were smart, you would know that using tissues to wipe up a cut would only make it worse. You're an idiot" he said with a blank expression, trying his best to hide a laugh. Victoria frowned again and threw the box of tissues at him. The box hit his throat which returned her mood back to normal.

"It's a small cut, stupid." Victoria said as she got closer to Phillip and bent down so she could be closer to his height. Wow, he really is short. Or maybe I'm tall? "Listen... I have to leave for an assignment soon. It might take a while so when I'm gone, I'm gonna leave you a list of stuff that you need to do." Phillip nodded and pulled Victoria's wrists closer to him, wiping the blood off of her hand with wet towels.

"Remember your promise to your brother" the boy said without looking up. Victoria's eyebrows raised in surprise. She had told him the story of how she promised her brother not to use her MagiGraft almost two years ago. She did not expect him to remember or even care. When Phillip finished with her hands, Victoria stood up and nodded, pushing Phillip out of her office. Returning back to her desk, the meeting she just had with the Emperor replayed over and over again in her head. One phrase in particular stood out to her--

Perhaps you want the throne.​

 

[Cosmic_Chaos]

​

Damien Rerean
People scare me, and I like the silence. What did you expect of me? To be like my sister?

Damien had finished hooking his Sisters Vitals to his phone, now, it was time to work on the cameras. Then he realised, he didn't have any camera bits. that meant leaving the house. He had nothing else to do though, and he wasn't tired, and not particularly hungry. He sighed, getting up. Well... May as well brake the horrible streets of the Shadow District. He put on a large coat, that was his fathers, but his dad wasn't there. He left a small note, but doubted mum would find it, let alone care. He had quickly found out that you had to live by yourself, even if you had family here. His sister was his only family in his opinion. But, who cared about his opinion anyway?

He took out his phone for Directions, Now he could go the generic route, which was somewhat safe, and take probably an hour. Or he could take a few short-cuts through alleyways, to get there and back within half an hour. Hour, people, Safe. Half-hour, No people, Dangerous. Well, he was related to his sister, and he hated people, and wanted to get back before his sister did, so shortcut it is then. He put his phone in his pocket, but kept his hand on in, cause he knew that there was so many thiefs around, it was stupid. He walked down one alleyway, and ignored the small and surroundings. He tried to speed walk, but his legs were not made for going fast. Then, he saw it.

The entire scene went in slow motion. He froze, and looked around. He saw a small crevice, and his small stature could easily fit into it. He ducked into it, only to realise... his coat doesn't fit. Why did he have to wear a large-ass coat? He was so obvious his sister would have saw him a mile away. And he knew that it would take him time to get out, then he would have to run, which would not be fun. He didn't want to die, he had to keep an eye on his sister. He balled a fist, ready to punch whoever confronted him in the nose. that is, if he had any power behind him. Which was was pretty sure he had none.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: ReverseTex , Agents/The Agency

RE: ARIEL

Location: The Agency Tower
Bureau Notes: all my characters are so mean to Jamie it is almost enough to make me feel guilty - least Zera likes him

Classified
As always, Jamie au Olver wasted no time before launching into one of his habitual long-winded speeches about his various ingenious plans. Ariel would grant him that he knew 'the game' well and how to play it, but today and been long and quite frankly, she didn't have the energy to humor him with either surprise, admiration, or even repulsion. In all honesty, she was tempted to have one of the slavs go fetch her energy stims from one Haunt or another.

Walking past the Noblus pacing around her office, Ariel threw herself into her chair and tilted back in it, exhaling long and slow. "I'm sure you've already calculated all my possible answers, all possible outcomes. You know my price, and you know I want in on the council. On those principles alone, I'd agree to your terms without hesitation." Running a hand back through her hair, she looked up at the ceiling for a moment before straightening. She gestured to her desk's computing system with a wave of the hand, which automatically booted the projected holoscreen up.

A series of flicks of the finger, and she had the decaying, virus-embedded email from Isabel au Saara floating in the middle of the room, projected before Jamie's line of pacing. "I received this a few hours after initiating the first stages of ensuring loyalty to you. Seems not everyone can be bought. At least, not by money. I apologise on my part - all those selected to be informed of our transfer of devotion were extensively vetted beforehand, but someone, somewhere, slipped through the system. I had Beta monitor them all, vital signs, neural waves, behavior, listening in on discussions and so forth. They all passed as completely dedicated and on board. Clearly, it was not enough."

Before them, the projected email flickered - before their very eyes, letters morphed, sputtered, and vanished. What remained said the following:

'Dear Ari◌l,

It has c■me to my attention that ▇▇▇t▇▇ betrayed our glorious Emperor and ▇▇l▇ allied yourself - and, by extension, y□ur Agents - to the cretin□us man ▆▆▆c▆▆ Jamie au Olver. Whilst it does not surprise me a man such as he would stoop to such a level ▆a▆▆▆▆, I consider you a personal friend ▆▆▆▆▆▆b▆▆ and am sh□cked at your c▭d□ct.

Whilst mor□lity c□mpels me to inform the Emperor ▆▆▆lo▆▆▆t▆▆ of this transgression at ◌n◌e, our past frie◌dship ▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆ le◌ves me b◌und to o◌er you a sec▭d chance. Please, s▭ reason, and turn h◌m over to The ◌mperor. If you do not do it y▭rself, I cannot guarant▭ you immunity or forgiven▭s - I shall be obligated to use this fact to destroy not only him, but your power ▆▆▆a▆▆▆d▆▆, which you have so tastelessly abused.

I hope you make the right choice, and that in the future, we can talk of and relish the downfall of a man as base as Olver as friends ▆t▆▆▆f▆▆▆▆ miss ▆▆▆t▆▆▆. ▆▆s▆ again a▆▆▆◌ ▆s▆▆▆t


▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆remember ▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆you ▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆?

Yours Hopefully,

▆▆

Bel'

"Despite avoiding those I knew affiliated with House au Saara, someone's slipped the net. We already have a leak." Remaining seated, Ariel cast the email to one side so that it flickered softly upon the left hand wall, and focused her gaze instead on au Olver.

She was now actively turning against one of her closest friends for this man, for the power he promised. The things she hoped to accomplish it she knew, in a utilitarian mindset, were worth the sacrifices that had to be made. With the Agency holding no real power, corruption would continue to infect the Citadel, and by extension the traverse, for the foreseeable future. Bella au Saara, however much she might like her, was still a Noblus and still as prone to ruthless practices as the rest.

Looking to Jamie au Olver, a man perhaps the worst of the lot, Ariel raised one brow. "How do you propose we proceed?"

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Cosmic_Chaos Dover

RE: ZERA AU AUGUTUS

Location: Theta District | Alpha District, The Palace
Bureau Notes: best time to make cunning schemes? when you're having a mental breakdown. The only time I ever make them, tbh

Classified
Once out of the Admiral's office, Zera was quick to find the building's public restrooms, bar the door with a touch of Warper magic, and disintegrate. Not only was her hand twitching by this point, but her entire arm was shaking as if experiencing a local earthquake. Moreover, her heart was racing, possibly due to medication or the pressure of coordinating a stunt such as this under such intense circumstances.

Clutching at the central sink, she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Anxiety fits, paranoid delusions, schizoaffective psychosis, and time loss were all common side affects of the drugs she was on - medication that was kept in the strictest of confidences between herself and the palace physician. They were common symptoms, but not absolute - they only set in once the final stage of nerve (and neural) degeneration began.

She was not experiencing these. She was just feeling the pressure. She was fine.

She was in control.

After emptying the contents of her stomach into the latrine, she returned to splash some water on her face and ensure her appearance betrayed nothing of her emotional (or mental) state. She did this with such skill it might as well be a fine art - when she emerged once more from the restroom, the passing guards and petty officers regarded her with poorly masked fear and bows of respect. One did not survive long as Emperor if one could not hide their inner bullshit. No medicine or illness was going to take that control away from her.

She did not bother with the mask or cloak on the way back to the Palace, instead standing and letting people stare. Marching back up the steps, she ordered the Palace slavs to be banished to their external quarters for the evening, keeping only her android servants at hand; They were they ones she could ensure remained silent.

"Hera," she called out to the SAI as she undressed herself in the refuge of her private apartments, preferring to discard assistance when everything around her felt so unfamiliar, unstable. "I want you to send a message to the Mercenary Sect. Have them send me their best and their fastest - they're to report at once here, at my chambers. And you. No doubt you overheard my discussion with Admiral au Saara?" She did not wait for a response. "I have as much need of your functions as I do hers. But first, tell me: What have you observed thus far of the Counsel's actions?"

 

[Cosmic_Chaos]

​

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

Aria looked at the woman who walked in and completely ignored her. Aira, though stupid, knew when to hold her tongue. This woman was on business, and her weapons could wait later. Or any time honestly. The pretty lady had already left, probably already figured out that trying to get anything would require waiting, and didn’t want to hang around. Aria felt that, since that was how she felt. She left quietly, and walked home. She took the lift thing, that her brother always used, rather than the black jump.

After a very boring walk home, she dumped the shopping in the kitchen and went to her room, however as she passed her brothers room, he heard him call out to her. “Hey Ari, you realise what the date and time is right?” He asked. She looked at her phone and cussed, before bolting to her room, grabbing a bag and bolting out again. “I’ll be back late, don’t wait for me, Lock the doors and windows, I have my key.” She shouted, not bothering for a response, before bolting out the door, running the fastest she could make with her equipment on her back, to the training centre that was just below the Market level. Wall jumping, and scaling the quickest she could manage; she got the required level and ran. She got to the centre just as the trainer showed up. Aria smiled sheepishly, before bolting into the changing rooms to change. That, she thought, was a very close-call.

~time skip a few hours of so~

Aria was in the training room. She was on the group that was focusing on body stamina for the most part. Other groups had their focus, something that she’ll get to later on, but right now, she was effectively upping her stamina. ‘This’ll be great when parkouring around. I won’t get as tired as fast’. Granted, the shadow district was, in a sense, a tightly-packed building area, so she has to run and slide rather than jump more than anything. Unless it was the wall jumping to get to a higher ledge, but that was only in certain areas, and aren’t the most common... Right now, she was on the treadmill, going at her fastest, and trying to beat her last timed session which was 15 minutes ago.

She knew that she beat most new recruits with ease, parkouring since forever would do that. However, she would lose against the experts so quickly, that it would be embarrassing. So she needed to do better, to get stronger, faster, to even thing of becoming a true mercenary. However, her train of thought was stopped by the trainer, by a simple ‘Renean’. She replied with a ‘Yes Sir’ as standard reply, slowing down to a light jog, before turning the machine off, so she would be able to speak to the trainer properly, and without getting short of breath.

“Emperor Zera au Augustus, needs a fast, reliable person who is able to deliver posts to certain destinations. You’re one of the most Agile Trainees we have, what you lack in strength, you make up in agility and speed, however, your reflexes still need work. So, Renean, do you think you are up to the commitment to being a Emperors messenger?” The Trainer explained, and Aria heard the message from her trainer loud and clear. ‘Work on strength and Reflexes’ and ‘Messenger for the Emperor, you in?’. She nodded, firmly. “Sir, Yes sir!” She said firmly, and her Trainer nodded. “Go now, They are expecting you to report to them at their chambers at once." Aria nodded, packing her things, and going to the changing rooms to freshen up (which was only five minutes) and to change properly. He trainer took to messaging who ever got in contact that she was going to get their within an hour.

It took a while to sink in, right until she left and hopped onto the roofs to go up the levels. The Emperor. Wants her? As a messenger? She stopped in her tracks, hanging off a wall, staring blankly at said wall. Names were just names to her, she never really understood who was who until you told her their status. And even then, it never fully sink in. If it was a Nobulus, she wouldn’t be having this problem of inner turmoil. But the Emperor. She’s an idiot, but even an Idiot knows that the title ‘Emperor’ was not something to sneeze at. Then again, she’s heard of rumours, which wasn’t an uncommon thing where she lived, but still. The rumours were about the Emperor, Zera Au Augustus, and they weren’t anything nice.

No. She said to herself. The emperor is still an emperor. Besides, this will be a good way to really push the limits on your abilities. With her resolve now absolute, she took off getting to the highest point she could reach before having to take transport. She had never been to Level one before, she probably stood out in her informal clothes. But she wasn't given any time to go home and choose a somewhat suitable pair of clothes. She had to leave straight away, and she wasn't expecting this to happen. She sighed and made her way to the palace, everyone seemingly knew why she was there for and let her through. But this really was not her scene. She hadn't used her barcode so much before in her life. She was brought to a room and was instructed to wait. She did so, by trying to make herself look somewhat presentable. Though with her lack of fashion-sense, she probably looked worse.

Bang Bang

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Juno Situation - Dover Mourning Dove CerpinTaxt

RE: BOY and COMPANY

Location: Juno Station
Bureau Notes: seriously, at this point I think Scotch's job would have been easier than this shit. Poor dynamic duo. also thank god Scotch isn't here to watch Boy's elegant landing

Classified
Naturally, there were benefits to working with The Blind Bureau, else why the frack would Boy bother putting up with how fucking terrifying they were? Normally, Boy's favourite perk to their little arrangement was the cool tech they channeled their way - when it came down to teleportation though? Not so much.

All it took was the inputting of co-ordinates, a twist of a dial, and the watch-like device on their forearm - known as a jumper - could siphon them just about anywhere in the traverse. Of course, there was a 32% chance that they'd end up overshooting and dying horribly and painfully in the abyss of space, so it wasn't exactly a device they frequented. On a day such as today, however, they were willing to risk obliteration; If things on Juno went to shit, they'd pretty much be guaranteed a knife to the throat anyway.

Hurtled into the engine decks of Juno Station, they stumbled several paces before slamming against the back wall, cap smacking them in the face with a snap. There went the synthetic nose, breaking yet again. At least Nigel was local for patching them up (again). Twisting it back into a vague semblance of normalcy with their cybernetic arm, Boy peeled themselves off of the wall and swallowed back on the vomit and bile bubbling up their throat.

Teleportation was not even slightly sexy.

Cursing the damn invention to the depths of deep space, Boy exchanged their gum for a fresh piece and set off towards the elevator at the back of the room. Either side of the narrow platform, separated from them by a rickety metal fence in disrepair, the engines with their neon cyan LCL casings rumbled, shaking the already tenuous ground. Boy strolled over - they'd navigated this place a dozen times, and where the Citadel might be where they spent the majority of their time nowadays, Juno would always be home.

✧✩✧
​

Taking the steps up to Afterlife's loft two at a time, Blue left behind the as-busy-as-ever floors of Strippers, JoyFolk, and their many patrons in favor of heeding the summoning call. Rachel had messaged her that, on this fucked up garbage dump of a day, Boy was back.

Sure enough, as they rushed through the door to the spacious, minimalist loft, there Boy was, Nigel fussing over them with his Mod gear out. "Boss," Blue breathed, collecting themselves for a moment before they left the doorway behind to shove Nigel aside and hug the returnee.
"Oi! You'll fuck up the molding, it's just setting," Nigel protested, but recognized his defeat in seconds and slumped down on the sofa besides their visitor, huffing and puffing like a little kid.

Apparently unconcerned about their facial reconstruction, Boy returned the hug with equal vigor and grinned against Blue's neck. "Stars, it's good to be back and see you guys."
"If we're quite done with the little reunion," a less enthusiastic voice drawled from the opposite side of the room. "There's not going to be a Station to come back to next time unless we do something."

Rachel, aka The Ripper, aka the matriarch of Afterlife and by extension, Juno itself, stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hands busy fingering her guns as if she were soothing them. She gave the trio a wry smirk that spoke of the blackest degree of humor. "We've got all of Tuhi on fire, the docks are a war zone, and as per usual, Lance is responding in the most sane way possible by bunkering down and constructing a bomb for no apparent reason."
"Saying it's the end of days," Nigel interjected, earning a sharp glare from his employer.

"The Blinders?" Boy guessed. The militant crime faction inhabiting Exodus down in the Nezumi district had been causing trouble for years now - this was merely one of many violent takeover attempts. By the sound of it, however, it was their most successful yet.
"Gotten a bunch of folk to think now's the time to storm the Citadel and take over. Bring down the Empire, shoot everything to hell - the usual short-sighted moronic bullshit. Only this time, people are biting. Idiots seem willing to burn this place to the ground to get control though."

"Stellar," Boy grumbled, fidgeting as Nigel returned with his needles and knives to patch up their nose and Blue set about curling up against their other side. "This is going to make getting the shipment in even more fun than usual."
"...Hope you weren't attached to those smugglers," Rachel said in what she seemed to think was a comforting tone, but soon had Boy burying their face in their cybernetic hands.

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To: Mourning Dove

RE: JEAN

Location: Docks
Bureau Notes: Great Golden Kebab, grant me wisdom and strength in these troubling times

Classified
"Uh ... do you want to talk about it?"

Jesus Arthur, what kind of crappy sitcom did you rip that line from.

Jean picked at her kebab. She shouldn't have said anything. 'No it's fine', 'What are you talking about?' or ... anything to that effect. But noooo, she had to mope about it. No, it wasn't good to keep your problems bottled up - but there was a time and place to talk about them, and ...

Jean glanced at the chef, who had turned his back to work on a hunk of lamb.

... and here was neither the time, nor the place to talk about those problems.

"Hey, look." Jean sat upright, gazing into her kebab as if begging it to offer her a moment of divine wisdom. "I don't like keeping you in the dark, but ... let it slide. At least for now, yeah?"

"Alright." Arthur sighed, though Jean didn't know if it was relief or concern. "... damn it, I'm not good at this kind of stuff."

You still tried, buddy. Jean managed a smile, still gazing at her plate. Where had her appetite gone?

"You should probably talk to Allistair. You know he's better at this kind- ... of ..." Arthur trailed off, also staring at Jean's plate. "On your four. Brown coat around waist, was staring at you funny, like you just shot her or something."

Jean cocked her head and watched Arthur's face from the corner of her eye. His brow was level, lips tight, eyes locked onto her plate. Calm. Collected. Professional. Yes, professional. He was a professional. She was a professional.

Right.

Jean nodded briskly and glanced over her shoulder while wrapping her kebab.

Brown coat, brown coat ... a pair in brown and grey coats walked by, but in the wrong direction. No, around waist ... she picked one man with a large belt, but no ...

"Female."

That wiped half the crowd - Jean snapped her gaze back-and-forth across th-

There. Her eyes locked on the person.

A bead of sweat dripped from J̬͇̠͞e̯̼̰͖͡àn̨̫'̝̫s̻̹̜̘̱͉ͅ brow. Her fists clenched, her teeth gritted. Bang, her heart left a dent in h̼̟͇̘͜e̟̭̱̟̘͔͎r̬ ribcage, and a shudder rattled in her throat. Cold spiked across her tongue and spilled across her face, numbness. She exhaled, and her breath scalded feeling back across her tastebuds. The breath kept coming, her lungs deflating, a steady stream of air sputtered and jarred. Ș̟̯͖̥̦ͅh̸̤͉e̪̪̘͎̦̤ͅ ̴̲̤̠͙͈m̼͘a͠ḏ̳̺͚̰ͅͅe̢̖ ̠̤ͅa̶ ̵̫̝̝ń͚̱̫͎o̬̠̭i͕̬̕s̙̤͍͉ͅͅͅe̘̭͙͔̫̻, small and pathetic.

Jean closed her eyes, crushed the feelings under a wave of acute awareness. She was warm, the succulent scent of spiced meat teased her nose and the gentle, constant pressure of Arthur's hand was fixed to her elbow. Her skin followed her, wrapped tightly around her muscles and skeleton and keeping her whole.

They could have been staring at Jean for any number of reasons. Curiosity? Maybe, an Oracle with her helmet off might earn that. But no, this person wasn't curious.

"I feel ... her fear."

The stranger was afraid. Afraid of an Agent. Why?

Well ... Jean fancied herself a curious sort. And as a professional, that made her professionally curious. She could hardly ignore diligent curiosity on the job, now could she?

Jean clambered off her stool and stuffed the kebab into her hardcase. Scooping her HAVEN from the countertop, she made a beeline for the stranger as Arthur's heavy footsteps fell in behind her. She felt his hands on either side of her as he holstered her pistols on either side of her waist, and his chest bumped into her back.

It was nice to have friends.

She fixed the helmet over her head as she hurried to and rounded the corner where the person had disappeared. She went for the front two latches, Arthur took the rear three. Within seconds, she was up and running, and the world around her streamed in from all angles.

Go time.

The stranger had sped up, but Jean and Arthur had made enough distance on the way to the corner to catch sight of her through the crowd. The two had the benefit of authority to help part the crowd, not to mention - the stranger seemed to be trying to keep a low profile, and was moving only as quickly as they could get away with. If it weren't for Arthur catching her staring, Jean wouldn't have thought twice. Just another random going about their day, occupied by their thoughts and in a hurry to get home or to work.

But on that same observation - there was always the chance that they were just a random. Hell, there were plenty of things to be afraid of, especially today - maybe it was coincidence? Maybe Jean just reminded them of someone unpleasant? Still - it gave her something to do other than dwell, and it was something to break the tension. Thaaaaank you, suspicious random.

Jean debated whether to run after the person of interest. She'd prefer not to escalate the situation by engaging a full-blown foot chase, especially when there was no concrete evidence they'd done anything wrong. Then again, concrete evidence wasn't necessary for a brief inspection. The crowd was parting quickly enough to allow the two to slowly gain ground on the suspect.

"Hey." Arthur called once they were within thirty feet. "You there, brown coat on your waist. Where are you going in a hurry?"

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: The Underworld
tagging: Collidias Rex
mentioning: Sir Galahad II (if you squint)
ooc: Color coding my dialogue like a pro. Might go back and do this for Scotch as well.

Trouble​

“Two more?”

“Indeed.”

“I just got back.”

“Time waits for no one, Dear. Now, this first one needs to be dropped off at a shop on Level 4. It’s-“

“4?”

“Yes. So make sure to keep your head low. We’ll find you a nicer coat and you’ll fit right in. As for the second letter, a contact will be waiting for you in the market area. Hand it to them, and don’t leave them waiting. They’ll be wearing a red handkerchief in their coat pocket.“

“Of course they will.”

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing.”

“Wonderful. If you agree to lend us your aid once more, little bird, I have the address and meeting place right here.”

“…I want to keep the hat.”

“Oh. Of course. You’re very welcome to keep it.”

“Thanks Madame.”

“Trouble is just fine. Now fly quick, little bird. And should someone ask your na-“

“Let’s just stick with Hermes. Please.”

__________________________________​

Hermes’ report had been right. A bright red neon sign adorned the entrance to the Underworld, awaiting her arrival. Trouble smiled. A neon sign. What a nice touch. The Lord of the Underworld certainly knew how to set a scene.

She had the feeling she ought to be nervous before a meeting this big. Her body certainly showed signs of restlessness, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the pockets of her coat as if on autopilot, itching to fidget with the rim of her hat – but her mind was dead quiet. She wondered for a brief moment whether she could still feel nervous, or whether nervousness was another feeling lost in the ruins of her old prison.
But Madame Trouble didn’t really need nervousness, did she? Madame Trouble needed a calm mind, and a plan. And that she had

Trouble straightened her hat and emerged from the shadows of the nearby building where she’d been lying in wait. She crossed the street, an imposing figure clad in black, and hoped the lost souls (staggering drunks) lingering on the path to The Underworld wouldn’t undercut the dramatic flair of her entrance, but knowing deep down that they would.

Nonetheless, her smile was sharp and impeccable as she came to a halt at the podium by the door and greeted the three guards with a nod of her head. “If you would be so kind,” She started, voice rich and dark, just the way it had been designed, “could you tell Hades that Trouble is at his door. I believe he is expecting me.”

 

[Rainzen]

Incoming File ...
To: mentions; Emperor Zera and Boy

RE: Antonia

Location: Palace grounds
Bureau Notes:

Classified
Antonia was on edge, council meetings always did that, this one much more than most for obvious reasons. The constant feedback in the back of her mind usually felt comforting, but today the constant stream of information from anything with a signal in her vicinity was pervasive and exhausting, making her twitchy in a very literal sense. Fortunately, she had kept it under wraps for the duration of the meeting, fidgeting was unbecoming and she damn well knew it but keeping herself under strict control was just serving to make her jumpier as she made her way back to her residence at the palace. There wasn't much point in heading back to the estate now, not when she would undoubtedly be needed here more often than not until the Passing was over. The place smelled musty and disused when she opened the door, rooms more or less as her parents had left them. Now didn't that feel like a punch to the gut. Toni hated being reminded that she missed her family.
Toni hadn't needed these rooms for anything more than a place to crash when business at the palace kept her longer than anticipated a handful of times in the chaos since her parents passing, and she was regretting not having the presence of mind to have someone come clear them out like she did her other estates. So much for getting out of her head and relaxing for a bit, it was probably for the best, there was work to do. The idea of running a bath and getting high, maybe summoning a joybot or two, and pretending that none of this was happening was tempting but she could almost hear her fathers voice in her ear every time she pictured it. These would likely be the most important two weeks of her lifetime and she couldn't be anything less than full alert until the emperor was dead and gone and the cards had fallen. She glanced forlorenly at the bag of pills in her hand. They wouldn't be any use tonight. She deposited them in a desk drawer on top of a pad of paper that still had the handwriting of a dead woman scrawled across the open page.
Clearly Antonia wouldn't be able to get any sleep tonight until she either blissed out or got something done, and the first wasn't an option, but what work was there even to do? The obvious question was one of her own intentions. It didn't matter a but to her what anyone elses plan was if she couldn't identify her own goals.
Well for starters, getting through the next two weeks alive would be nice
The passing had a repuation for a reason and the danger could be very real if another council member determined that she was enough of a threat. She needed to make herself either inconsequential, or formidible as a target depeding on her intentions. It wasn't like her to aim low, but for now keeping herself and everything her family had built intact would need to be enough, besides, how far up could she go from here? What would she even do with the throne if she managed to obtain it? The prospect of going straight for it was tempting, but risky and too stupid to be worth it. For now she was best off finding someone with promise and sticking with it, who knew what she could get out of pledging her houses loyalty to another council member if they ended up taking the throne. That might need to be a question for tomorrow. No doubt anyone with their eye on the throne were already setting plans into motion, and for once Antonia wasn't going to be the one to immediately jump on the first hair brained scheme that came to her. For now, business took precidence, as it always had. Particularly, business with a certain crime syndicate.
Sorry to disappoint, Zera, but you won't be getting much of a show from me just yet.

 

[ReverseTex]

Jamie au Olver

Location: The Agency Bang Bang

Military folk were always the easiest to read. They were straightforward and idealistic, either holding true to honor or steering to more creative routes. Ariel was more creative than most, but her carelessness for detail was a large flaw of her. Just as he was about to add his quip, she began to speak of a leak. His icy eyes flashed from amusement to thought as he listened intently as she searched for the letter, and once pulled up it was heavily redacted.

Reading over the letter, Jamie sighed as he crossed his arms. This would do no good. If Bella had knowledge of his actions she would surely tattle to Zera, and put a bounty on his head for conspiracy... “You must speak with her. She did tell you herself that she wanted to turn you back around... So do just that... Welcome to the game Captain Ariel, because you’re about to be in it deep.”

The gears began to turn in his head as his statement brought life into ideas. “We must act quickly on this matter, so this will be done tomorrow. Respond back to Bella. Say that you are up for any negotiation and that you only took my answer for money, not for control. She’ll come running to sort this mess out, but we’ll have a play.” Tapping the captains desk, he continued. “You will place a bug right here, so I can listen in on the conversation, and time my entry appropriately. I will have my guards posted outside once she enters the room, and after I enter I shall deal with the Councilwoman...”


With a sigh, he glanced to Ariel, and continued. “I’m assuming the Agency has skilled hackers? Get the ready tomorrow. As well as janitors. I hop you don’t mind a little blood on the floor, and a little cleaning up to do...”

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: The Docks
tagging: Dover
mentioning: Dover
ooc: Scotch is just a poor innocent soul on her way to Horsehead Nebula, Agent

Scotch​

So what were the chances the man behind her was calling out to someone entirely different who just happened to be wearing the same clothes? What were the chances the man behind her wasn’t the Agent that had been sitting next to the Oracle earlier?

Very slim. We’re screwed, a small voice in her head said that sounded suspiciously like Swift.

Scotch threw a last longing glance at her ship, which was right there. Maybe if she just took off running now and...No. Best case scenario, she’d be arriving at the shipping containers with two Agents and Dock security on her ass, worst case, she’d be tackled down before she even got to the ship. She’d have to bullshit herself out of this one.

Scotch turned around to face the two Agents, making sure to look sufficiently startled and confused at their sight. She wasn’t an actor by any stretch, but the general unease (and slight tinge of fear) of someone who’d just gotten held up by Agents out of the blue wasn’t all that far from her truth. “Uh. Me?”

“I was heading to my ship, Sir.” Sir. Been a while since she used that one. “I was planning to leave the Citadel for a few weeks, find some work over in Horsehead until the whole Emperor business has settled down.” She gestured around herself, at the crowd of people shoving past each other to get to their destinations. “I don’t do well with chaos, y’know.”

Well, that was a bit of a stretch. Scotch somehow managed to keep herself from breaking out into a nervous grin. She threw another glance at the Oracle who was wearing her helmet again, its lenses pointing outwards like a dozen of tiny eyes. What had she been thinking? That couldn’t be Jem. That was just another faceless Oracle, one of the Agency’s many limbs.

How much could she see? Scotch didn’t know much about the extent of an Oracle’s Tech powers, just knew that they saw a lot and somehow felt even more. For all it was worth, she was glad that Swift wasn’t with her. If those two decided to scan her barcode, she might still be able to get away with her Hands status (as long as they didn’t decide to take a closer look at her data and started to notice some slightly unnatural gaps), but Swift would have definitely been screwed.

Scotch wondered for a second if that meant her plan hadn’t been that crappy, until she remembered she was standing face to face with two Agents. Right.

“Uh. I was staring earlier, right?” Scotch addressed the Oracle, unsure where exactly she should look at with all those cameras on the helmet. “I’m sorry, Agent. I was just surprised by the whole, y’know, ‘You Having a Face’ business.” Scotch felt a tinge of nervousness, hoping her remark wasn’t too disrespectful. Agents could be awfully touchy sometimes. But better to let them think she was nervous about accidentally having offended them than about being about to smuggle the most valuable container of illegal organs they had ever heard of.

Shit, she hoped this would be over soon. If those two actually made a move to detain her, she’d have to bolt, and that wouldn’t be much fun for either of them.

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To: ( Mourning Dove

RE: JEAN

Location: Dock
Bureau Notes: Zalgo! intensifies

Classified
The target stopped. She ṫ̘̘̪̫̖ͨͮͬ̄͋ú͖̩͚̫͎̣ͅṟ̪̳̄̾ͣ̎̍n̩͎̝̗͍̊͛̚e̳̜͙̹͔͛ͦ̚͝d̼̬̬̦̘̙̹ͩͯ͐̌̆ around, and she S̡̧̠̳͈̺̯̱̦̙͢͠P̷͜͡͏̗̮̰̗̞͕̻͇̫̳͈͕̜O̷̫̫͕̙̞̻̳̘̗̮̲͈̫͔̪̠̭͘͢K҉̸̫̥͚̦̝̰̩̻͖̭̗̟̫ͅͅE̥̙̝̤̣͙̫̞̥͔͚͠͝ͅ.̴̸̺̬͖͖͇̣̻̮̬̙̪̩̦̱̦͡

... no.

Jem had slowed, but Arthur kept going.

... no, don't do this to me now.

Jem choked.

N̶̨̢̿̅ͮ̇͊́ͣ̏̈ͤ̂ͧ҉̠̺̭̖̗͖͘o͈̬̪̥͙͈̞̪̼̰͎͖̘̝͙̎̅ͭ̂̃ͦͫ̃͌̓͊̈̈́̃̇̕,̷̶̷̼͔͚̟̬͔̓ͨͯ̔ͮ ̡̛͙̘̮̯̓̍ͨ̈̆̑͋̿͋̅̈́̕͟͞d̴͉̝̞͚̝̞̿ͭ̊̆̿̽̂̽͋ͦ̆ͥ͂͟oͫ͌ͪͣͣ͋ͣ̊̕҉̠̤̼̖̹n̵̨͙̻̭̭̭͇̦̪̼ͦ̿̈̓̌͗ͥͧ̒ͬͣ̒̀'̛̖̜͓̖̙̼̜̼̳̮̤̞͎̈́ͭͯͥͤ̈̏̃̈̚͘͜͝͡t̡͕͙̣̖̭̩̙̦̲̥͙̮̬͎̗̞̘̖ͥͮ̔̈̂ͯ̋̑ͫ̇̑͢ ̷̃̅̓̇̊̎̃̅ͭ̓ͪͮ̇̎̑̚̚͠͏̡̮̳̭̖͉̭̟͓͙̥͞d̛͙͇̲͙̭͖̩̥̞̔͐̇́͒́̅̒̔̄̌͆́ͅͅỏ̡̬̥͇͓̹͌ͦ͊̓̉͘ ́͂̃ͩ͊̋͗̔͂̂̊̽ͬͫ̓͒ͮ͞҉̡̣̖͍̦̹̥̪̰̗͎̮̩̞́t̴̰̦̻̥̩͉̮̣̲̻̰͔̞̥̜̬ͫ͗͒̇̇ͩ̽ͤ̄ͤͥ̑̉̔̑͋̍͊̕͠͡͠h̨̬̯̼͖̤̘͔̯̪͚̭͙̗͐̃ͧ́̇̅̓̔̂ͬ͐̀̃͊̌̽̕͡i̢̧̫̻̗̥̺̝͖̻̫͙ͧ̓ͫ̄̆̾̌ͨͥ͑̇ͤ͠͞s̛͍̫͇̞̳̙̝̣̱̳̤̹̖ͦ͛͌ͧ́̂̎̓́̕͜ ̧̛̻̬͉̖̤̭̠̹͚͖̺̭͙̗͂ͭ̅͂ͪ̉̈́ͪ̓ͩ̋̿͋͊ͥ̀ͦ̕t̴͇̮̙̬̙̟̮̺͖̘̓ͥ̔ͭ͆̎̋̋̎ͦ͆̓͂̏̌̑́̚͟ͅo̷̧̦̪̳̺̅͂ͬ͗ͮͨ̓ͭͮ͑̃̚͟ ͓̖̹̠̭͔̣̝̤͍͔̣͈͓̩̼͊̀͊ͦ͒̅̇̀͟͞͞m̶̷͕̣͔͈̲͙͈͇͋ͯ͐͂ͥ̈̃͑̓ͣͧͮ̄̚͡e̴͎̦̻̤̫̜̗͕̖̻̘͖̺̘͕̎͗ͮͨ̅̂͛͘̕ ̶͚̪̩̺̼̬͙̹̙̭̦̍̈́̇ͩ̿̋̇̀ͨͫ͜͠ņ͎͚̲̮̯͎̝̯̲̔ͭ̆ͨ̆ͩ̑̓ͬ͗̃̌ͣͤ̏ͦ̍̉̚̕͡ȏ̡̨̡͖̟̳̟͕̞̩̭̦͍̮̗̜̓ͪ̉̏ͥͣ̎͐̆͂̋̂ͤ̔ͣ̿̌ͮ̕̕w̛͆ͥ̈́̏͌̐͑̍̒͛̚̚̚͏̱̯͙͕̭̭̙͎̺͔̖.̴̳̯̭̳ͧ̓̐̌ͨͫͯ̓̕͢͝

Was this į̹̘͕̪͔͈̼̒t͇͌̉͛̈́͌? Was this how she finally went?

Not like this

P͂͂̌̏͋͂̓̚͏̧̗͇̙̤̦͍̩̼̯̰͖̥̞͓̖͕̱ͅͅl̶̡̨̦͙͓̹̝͈̘͈̝̺̲̘̝̼͉̜͈̫͍̂̌̎̾̈ͭ͐ͦ͂ͧ͟e̶̴̢̳̘͇̺͂͗̓̽͋ͬ̂̌̏̿ͭ͗̈̂͗ͧ̈́̋͟͜ͅa̡̢̲͇̺̮͙̱̬̳̯͆̈́ͫ̐͌ͨ͗͌́ͮ͛̅ͧ̓̔ͣs̶͈̞̲̬͎̪͕͖̪͕͐ͥ̍̍ͨ̄̐̉̑̈̈̓̿̾ͧ̆ͪ̊e̴̛̹̺̲̬̬̰̯ͪͥͯ̓̀͟͠
, not like this

She scrubbed at the scars, scratched away at the surface. Nono tͯ̇̒h͚̞͝e̝̮͐͠r̞͉̗̪̝ͤ͐̿͋͘e͏̹͚̬̥̳̰̳ ̸̤͉̠̥̦̪̰̈́̈ͯͫ̀̎w̭̤͍̥̱̹ͧ̑ͦ̾a̧̫̝̼̠̍̍̀͑̓͋s̶̥̅̽ ̘̙̫̗̯̈́͊a̧͉̍ͮͫͥ͛n͖o̺̳͍̞̥͕̺ͨ̈́͊̏ͨ̊t̞͕̾h̰̱̟̳̲͚̥͌ͮͦe͍͓ͣͫ̽̌̊r̩̩̙̬͚̘̙͑͒ͬ̋̋̽ͪ ̠͍̖̟̆͊̄ͨ͢f̯̳̋a͉͔̩̓ͤ̀ͨͭ̾̍c͇̿e̾͏̤̳ underneath the cognition, the face was still there. This OVERLAY would not play regeant to my perception! I won't let it! Not now not EVER!

Jem ... breathed. It occurred to her to fight the feeling, to keep it together ... but she couldn't. Something was wrong. Her skin felt cold insofar as a normal suit of human skin could feel. Her helmet pressed down on her shoulders, weighing approximately its usual mass. The floor beneath her was flat and metallic. She couldn't keep it together, because nothing was scattered.

That meant it was all real. Her HAVEN hadn't been breached. This was not her mind torturing her. This was not her recollection taking a knife to her mementos. This was reality. And that meant that ...

I didn't even say goodbye.

Jean followed Arthur. Each step landed solidly, but she felt unsteady, as if her arms and legs might fall off at any moment.

Bee ...

That was it. No breakdown, no ultimate psychological collapse, no mental cataclysm at just the wrong moment. Reality. By pure chance, she'd stumbled across her again.

... but if she'd recognized me ... why did she keep walking?

It hit her like a punch to the gut. An awful sickness twisted in her stomach, tightening as the realization sunk in. Of course. Of course, how could she be so fucking stupid?

She doesn't want anything to do with me.

She'd been standing stock-still next to Arthur, only realizing as he nudged her arm. Bee was looking at her.

“I’m sorry, Agent. I was just surprised by the whole, y’know, ‘You Having a Face’ business.”

"..."

Say something!

"Ugh ..."

Goddammit.

Arthur's attention had shifted to Jean, watching her with growing unease.

"Jem? What's wrong?"

Fucking everything is wrong, Arthur! Fucking EVERYTHING IS WRONG.

Jem stared dumbly at Bee.

I betrayed you. I betrayed everything we ever stood for. Fuck!

Jem put her hands around her neck and clawed at the latches, scraping her helmet off in a hurry.

"What the fuck has gotten into you?" Arthur's hand snatched her wrist. Jem didn't care.

She stuffed her helmet under her free arm and raised her head, meeting Bee's eyes with her own. In the stagnant air of the docks, she felt soreness and moisture at the corners of her eyes. Didn't matter - she just needed to meet her eyes again. Properly this time. After everything Jem had done, there was only one thing she could say.

"... I'm sorry for wasting your time, ma'am."

 

[Collidias Rex]

Incoming File ...
To: Bang Bang Mourning Dove

RE: HADES

Location: Underworld
Bureau Notes: Sabrine: Part-time electrician, part-time asskicker, full-time headrest

Classified
"Fanmail from au Olver?"

Hades grunted and took the offered drink, sipping from it before placing it at the edge of the counter. His gaze remained on the letter, turning it over in his hand and admiring the attention to detail. He didn't turn as Sabrine emerged from the door behind him - her usual attire replaced by a set of overalls, and her riot shield replaced by a large neon 'XXX' sign effortlessly slung over her shoulder.

"Top two 'X's have been disconnected." She snapped off a salute as she strode past and into the thinning crowd. Given the load she was carrying, patrons gave her space as she headed for the entrance again.

"We're going to be meeting someone." Hades' fingers curled around the sides of his glass, but didn't lift it from the tabletop. "If I knew more, I would tell you. Keep an eye out. Someone's putting a lot of care into arranging this meeting - but we can't be sure of their intentions." He looked up to scan across the area. There was still very much a crowd present.


The day was drawing to a close. Sabrine knew better than to slouch, but constant vigilance on The Passing had taken a toll on all three guards. Sabrine sat in the middle of the podium, her shield laid across her lap and Maya's head laid against her shoulder. Maya kept one hand on her rifle at all times, but the other arm had curled around Sabrine's, and their fingers were weaved together. Oddly enough, it was Kello who found herself most occupied with the entryway.

And when a distinctly dark and ominous individual appeared in the doorway, it was Kello who pulled up the rifle slung across her chest - not pointing it at the newcomer, of course, but most definitely at the ready.

“If you would be so kind, could you tell Hades that Trouble is at his door."

Kello's brow quirked and she fingered the trigger guard.

"I believe he is expecting me.”

Kello glanced down at her companions. Reporting to Hades was Maya's job, but ... well, Kello didn't feel too eager to split sleeping beauty from her princess.

"Sabrine, watch the door, yeah? I'll send word to the boss."

Sabrine jerked a lazy thumbs-up by way of thanks, then returned her hand to the auto-pistol at her side.

Kello skipped off the podium and made her way through the crowd. Hades had been back and forth recently, but she found him leaned across the counter, apparently taking a break from the day's 'festivities'.

"Yo boss. Got someone at the door, says they're expecting you. Says there's 'trouble at the door'."

Hades took a moment to glare at Kello before shooting a glance toward the doorway. "Send her in. Gwen? Be ready, you're coming in with us." Gwen should be enough to handle any trouble that might arise. It also meant he wouldn't need to personally relay new information to her once the meet was over.

Kello spun on her heel without another word and marched back to her station.

"Head on in." Kello jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she climbed into place once more. She fixed her sights on the entrance again, righting her shoulders and standing tall - well, as tall as she could. And then she felt a touch on her ankle, and looked down.

"Thanks." Sabrine whispered.

At the bar, Hades stood between the counter and the back room, arms folded as he scrutinized the newcomer. Tall black and imposing. Hm. Cliche, but effective nonetheless. He shot a nod to Gwen, then gestured to the newcomer; follow. He turned and headed again into the back room, taking a seat on the couch.

"Speak." He stated, once the newcomer had entered.

 

[Sir Galahad II]

Code:

Incoming File ...
To: @_707_ Mourning Dove

RE: ROBERT HANCOCK

Location: A room in Underworld, then Lexington Armory
Bureau Notes: 1776 commencing

ClassifiedA few hours after entering Underworld, Rob was laying in bed with Pixie and Minthe, holding them in his arms, satisfied with himself. Pixie's wings glittered in the dim lights as she lay on top of Rob. Minthe snuggled up to him, exhausted yet happy. The sheets had fallen off the bed a long time ago, bunched up on the floor by the dresser, upon which a lamp and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs rested. The room had already looked disheveled before the three entered, but it was clean enough, he felt. He couldn't complain, really; In fact, he made a mental note to return in the future.

After putting his clothes back on, he left the girls with kisses and tips, going back through Underworld. He did as agreed upon with Gwen before leaving, and afterwards bought a drink for himself as well. Overall, he enjoyed his visit. It could have been more sanitary, sure, but the joygirls- at least the ones he has been with- were phenomenal (He made another mental note to thank Gwen and follow her advice in the future). Rob also appreciated Hades' treatment of the androids, even if it was just a front. Not enough people were willing to make change happen these days, he felt.

He thought about change as he slipped through the vacuum tubes up through the levels of the Citadel. All his life he spent on this metal globe, over a century, and the only change that had occurred seemed only to help those at the top. Coups only ended up providing the same old corrupt leadership, meanwhile the people have to deal with the messes they made, like the Wastes. Seemed like an accurate analogy to make. He could only do so much to help. When would things change for the better?

Rob finally arrived back at his shop/ home, just in time to help it close. He flipped the sign on the windowsill from "open" to "closed" and locked the doors. Turning to Lukas, he said hello, and stopped himself before he could accidentally call him "sport." He had only known him for a day, after all. After showing Lukas the bed he has installed recently, Rob went back into the store to shut off the lights and radio. Only, he noticed something peculiar... a sealed envelope on the counter. Quite primitive compared to other forms of messaging that were far more common nowadays, but of course Rob had no room to talk considering the decor that surrounded him. He picked it up, noting the seal of the bald eagle on the front, and opened it, taking out the letter within.

How strange.

He didn't quite understand what it meant at first, but it suddenly dawned on him. Somebody had figured out what he did in his spare time, besides frequent joybars. This could either be a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. Briefly, he considered the possibility of a trap, but he also considered his thoughts from earlier. His thoughts of change. Perhaps this was his calling?

For whatever reason, Robert decided to take the plunge. He waited for Lukas to go to sleep, then went up into his attic and dug up an old coat he used for one of the Redcoat mannequins in his store. Finding his pocket knife, he cut a piece of fabric hanging from the coat and put the rest back. Then, he found a bit of tape, closed the attic, and stuck the cloth up beside his copy of the Declaration of Independence on the shop window. Finally, he made sure to turn off the smoke detector in his store, found the metal waste bin, dropped the letter inside, then dropped a lit match in before turning everything off and going to bed.

Change was on the horizon.

 

[Mourning Dove]

location: The Docks, shipping area
tagging: Dover
ooc: Scotch can be mean. Sorry. Also, a better description of Scotch's ship and it's general layout is coming soon. Next post, I'd say.

Scotch​

“No. No, it’s fine,” Scotch said, barely registering the words that left her mouth. She was staring. She needed to stop. This wasn’t part of her act at all, and the other Agent would notice how strange she was acting any second now, but-

Jem was here.

Part of her wanted to walk up to her old friend and grab her, dig her fingers into her skin and confirm that this was actually real. The other part told her to get out of here now. Jem knew about the kinds of jobs Scotch ran back then, every detail.

And Jem was a fucking Oracle now.

Had she been working for them all along? Had she been a spy sent to infiltrate Boy Syndicate? No. Not Jem.
Not Jem, who’d looked up at the flickering neon signs of the Shadow Districts as if they were stars; who’d worn the black eyes she got in back alley scuffles like medals. Jem had loved what they were doing.

And then Jem had left.

Just like that.

Scotch needed to leave too, actually. There was probably some kind of reason for all of this, some logical explanation, but it wasn’t any of her fucking business, was it? Jem had seemed to think so too, back when she disappeared on her without so much as a note; and now, when she called her ma’am with that sad look on her face.
Scotch looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. What was Jem trying to do by letting her go? Was this some sort of half-assed apology? Well, Scotch didn’t care.

She put on the best smile she could muster “No problem at all. You were just doing your duty, Agent.”

(They used to mock Agents rigorously, every chance they got. They’d watch them from the rooftop of that old JoyBar that had long since been put out of business by Hades’ place and laugh at their tries to get information out of some junkie, knowing fully well that Boy’s men had vacated the premises an hour ago, just after word got to them that the Agency was making another weak attempt at busting one of their deals.
One time, Scotch had thrown an empty bottle at one of them on a dare, missing their helmet by an inch. Then her and Jem had run off in a hurry, until they found themselves in some unused backroom, breathing heavily and high on adrenaline.)

Scotch didn’t bother to wait for Jem’s reaction. “I’ll get going then. Thank you, Agents.”

When the metal door of her ship slid shut behind her, Scotch gave herself about five seconds to rest her back on it and close her eyes. Then she got up and made her way towards the cockpit, skilfully sidestepping the discarded shirts and Tech nick-nack from past jobs taking up the floor. Great. The Jem situation was dealt with and she wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. Wonderful.

It was for the best. No use getting herself into trouble by thinking too hard about this. Jem seemed to be doing just fine as an Oracle, and if she wasn’t, well, that was her own damn fault, wasn’t it? Unless it wasn’t – Because Jem, her Jem, would have never joined the Agency willingly, so maybe-

“Fuck.” Scotch yanked on the cockpit door with too much force,making it slide back into the wall with a dull thud and a concerning crack that probably meant she’d have to repair the sliding mechanism yet again at some point. She let herself sink into her seat and brought up the interface, initiating liftoff while she pulled up the coordinates of their shipping container. Then her eyes fell on the small red notification on the bottom of her screen. Weather Alert. Fantastic, just what they needed right now.

Scotch minimised the interface with a wave of her hand. She’d worry about that later. Right now, she needed to get to Swift.

It took her about five minutes to get to the shipping containers, even with all the manoeuvring she had to do to get around all the other spacecrafts trying to get out of this hellhole. She might have ended up cutting a few people off, but some sacrifices had to be made (by others) in the interest of saving time. With a huff Scotch brought down her ship in the designated loading area and extended the loading ramp.

As she made her way to the back of her ship to help Swift load their container into the cargo hold, she made sure to banish all thoughts of old friends and oracles and platinum hair to the back of her mind, where they’d hopefully just… evaporate somehow. Then, she stepped out. “I know I’m late, Swift, but let’s get this sucker onto the ship before-“ She stopped, blinking.

“Who the hell is that?”

 

[KnightSergeant]

Incoming File ...
To: RiverGamer

RE: LC-A7C4

Location:
Bureau Notes: (OOC Here)

Classified

The grime of the shadow districts had clogged his joints and created a filament of grease across his chassis, somehow always there no matter how many times he had cleaned himself. Still he managed to look as good as he could as he marched down the streets of the shadow districts, image receptors cautiously absorbing every detail of the foreign area. While most of it looked the same, the grimy buildings, gaut face and billowing clouds of smoke that choked the air, there were the subtle differences. For one there were less mechanic shops and smokestacks but instead there were the shady faces of doped up humans sitting at the edges of stimhaunts and the neon signs signaling joybars for those who had drunken themselves almost blind.


As he walked amongst the poor and the bedraggled, the layers of torn cloak hanging over him making him seem like a large poorman and defending him from the spiteful glares and hollow, needy eyes of the hundreds of people that shoved past him. It was almost disgusting to have them so close, some of them even have the indecency to pull and tug on his cloak, probably either to reveal him or simply steal his cloak. Still, sometimes you have to slog in the mud, he was no inexperienced child. Turning around the corner he warily looked around the street as he walked, a feeling of danger rising in his gut.

 

[Dover]

location: The Emperor's Apartments
interactions: Zera Bang Bang
mentions: Jamie ReverseTex | Gabriel @_707_ | Victoria NUSKI
ooc: All of Hera's surveillance confirmed with Bang prior to posting.

Hera​

Questions came in like a torrent after Citadel Diamond Station went on air, ensuring that everyone in every corner of the Citadel knew exactly how much turmoil the station was in.

Hera, what is The Passing? Hera, who's going to be Emperor now? Hera, can I be Emperor? Hera, will the meteor storm kill us all? Hera, I'm pretty sure I heard something in the ventilation system too. Hera, are we going to die? I don't want to die. Hera, are the Misters aliens? Hera, will you read this to me? Hera, I heard from my cousin that something's happening over on Juno. Should we prepare? Hera, do you see what's happening in the streets? I can't even step out of my house anymore without being at a risk of getting shot. Don't you care? Hera, you stupid AI. Everything's going to shit because the Emperor's computer is a piece of junk. Hera, I'm sick of hearing 'The End of the World'. Can't you tell Citadel Diamond Station to play something else? Hera, what day is it? Hera, should I go to the hospital for this paper cut? I think it might get infected. Hera. Hera. Hera.

It went on and on. With 10 billion people on the Citadel (an estimate that factored in unregistered citizens as well) she easily answered around 50 requests per second on a regular day. But today? She was answering 112 per second when it spiked. Citadel Diamond Station always made it spike. She'd give anything to make them silent for a day.

Despite the constant questions, Hera was always tuned into whenever Emperor Zera called for her, and she responded in hardly a moment.

"Yes, Emperor Zera," she said as she manifested at the terminal in Zera's private apartments. In this form, with her avatar manifested as a hologram atop the terminal, she clasped her hands in front of her and awaited orders. She should not feel nervous. An SAI was meant for one thing, and one thing only: to run a station. Her duty was not to feel frustrated by requests, or bored, or worried about the frenzy the Citadel was churning itself into, or nervous about the state that the Emperor was in, or fearful about what the Emperor's Passing in two weeks would mean for Hera herself.

"I will send your message to the Mercenary Sect immediately." As she sent the message off, Hera inclined her head at Zera's question. "I did. I will continue monitoring her to ensure she is following your orders." That request was simple. The request for observations was less so. Hera's hologram flickered for a split second.

"Many members of the Counsel are keeping silent. I have seen what may be message runners entering and exiting many of the Noblus Houses. Much of the Citadel's population is aware of The Passing now. Concern and unrest are mounting among the citizens." But these were not the things Zera wanted to hear. Hera steeled herself. "I am afraid Gabriel au Augustus entered the Shadow Districts once again. Additionally, I saw Jamie au Olver entering the Shadow Districts after you spoke with him last. I was not able to keep track of him. Many of my surveillance cameras and terminals have been vandalized in the area. I viewed him leaving the Shadow Districts, where he arrived just moments ago at The Agency HQ. There is something else concerning. Misters have been spotted around the Citadel and--"

Hera stopped dead in the middle of speaking. Something was wrong. There were blank spots in her surveillance that she was unaccustomed to. She expected them in the Shadow Districts. It was a greater surprise when she could connect there. But not on the rest of her Citadel.

"My apologies, Emperor Zera. There are blackouts in my surveillance around the Docks, and I appear unable to re-establish a connection. Shall I send a report to The Agency?" In any other situation, she would have sent a report immediately to Beta with a request for The Agency to send agents over to any situation in progress. But The Passing overruled those protocols. She was merely a thing for Emperor Zera to bend to her whims and schemes.

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: ReverseTex

RE: ARIEL

Location: Ariel's Office, Agency Tower
Bureau Notes: the feel when u realise u agreed to work with a sociopath

Classified
“You must speak with her. She did tell you herself that she wanted to turn you back around... So do just that... Welcome to the game Captain Ariel, because you’re about to be in it deep.”

"I'm not sure it's possible to reside on the Citadel and not, be in the game, Counselor au Olver," Ariel replied with such dryness it might be taken as insulting, but she followed it up with a small smile. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky you know how to play so well."

The idea of speaking to Bella herself... She wasn't sure how she felt about that exactly. It'd be best, she knew that much, to try and dissuade her friend herself. Perhaps she could coax her into joining them... no, that would never work. She knew how keenly Bella loathed her present partner in crime, a hatred she herself had never fully understood, though she could certainly see how some found Jamie unpleasant. But then, was he really so different from most of the Noblus? All schemed, all manipulated, all lied and sneered. He just did it with a little more filth on his fingers.

Ariel remained seated, listening without comment until his very last line: “I’m assuming the Agency has skilled hackers? Get the ready tomorrow. As well as janitors. I hop you don’t mind a little blood on the floor, and a little cleaning up to do...”

"What?" Ariel demanded, sharp and fast and sudden as she stood, chair skidding back behind her with the force of the motion. "I am all for speaking with her, trying to get her to see reason or, if you have to, threatening or blackmailing or bribing her - whatever it is that you do to keep so many of the Counsel in your pocket. But this? You want me to be complicit in your murdering her? All because she found out that we aree traitors?"

A shiver, sick and stomach-sinking, rattled her, accompanied by the realization of just what kind of game she was entering into here. The Agency had politics of its own, but they'd all been bound by a kind of honour, a duty, and understanding that at the end of the day the best player won and they'd all go home and try better the next day. Hers was not a world of slitting throats and hiding bodies. She did not clean blood from the carpet unless it belonged to criminal scum. Bella au Saara was guilty of many things, but nothing warranting the death penalty.

"Counselor, see reason," Ariel said, trying to ply him away from this mode of thinking. "What good will killing her do? Surely we can use her to a better advantage..."

 

[RiverGamer]

Incoming File ...​

To: KnightSergeant

RE: Aritafae 'Fate' Alexander

Location: Shadow Districts (exact area undetermined)
Bureau Notes: “Fate loves the fearless.” ― James Russell Lowell

ClassifiedAs much fun as pickpocketing morons who were to high or drunk to even notice what she was doing, Fate craved for more excitement. She just wanted a fight to break out in front of her or something. But alas, the world just carried on in a gradual decline to eventually lead to the repeatedly brought up end of all tings. Ugh, this is fucking boring! And nobody has anything on 'em apart from some worthless junk. Oh and the odd key...maybe I should check the houses these keys op- eh? Fate's eyes landed on a large male, or at least she assumed, walking down the street avoiding any and all contact with anyone. Perfect, the bigger they are the more they carry and he's distracted too..hell yeah. Fate strolled towards the mysterious figure, being mindful to mingle with the crowds passing them and turned to face the back of the stranger. She watched the stranger's actions whilst carefully reaching for a pocket...

 

[Bang Bang]

Incoming File ...
To: Dover Cosmic_Chaos - RE Plans, Collidias Rex

RE: ZERA AU AUGUTUS

Location: The Palace
Bureau Notes: heavens this is long. PS I would NOT want Zera as my boss tbh

Classified
Zera noticed, in what she was sure was the psychotic paranoia manifesting, Hera's momentary flicker, a modulation jump in her voice that sounded awfully like a glitch. She would order anti-psychotics in the morning first thing - she was Emperor for goodness sake, if she couldn't get medication to solve all her problems, what the hell had the medical industry been doing during all these years of technological innovation?

"Send Captain Ariel word that protection of your terminals is to be prioritized - and reconfigure maintenance schedules to have them repaired at once - sacrifice Shadow District ventilation repairs and the water leak .to the western quadrant can be left instead. If people are going to act out in such a way, they can suffer the consequences; It is of the utmost importance I have as much information as possible of the Counsel's activity. Especially au Olver. I trust him about as much as I'd trust one of his whores, but he may also prove a viable candidate."

She'd spoken during a pause in Hera's speech, but the recommencing of it worried her far more than anything au Olver could be up to. "Blackouts? Hera, you've never had blackouts in the Docks before. Has vandalism spread there as well?" With her own body falling apart on her, she could not afford to have the SAI malfunctioning as well. "No- Don't notify them of anything. I don't want them knowing you're limited at present. I'll have a discreet team sent down to the Core to investigate shortly. But that's not why I summoned you, Hera."

The way she was speaking to the SAI perhaps risked giving the false impression that she considered Hera a person - It would be more accurate to say she considered her a personality. To Zera, the SAI was no different from a Slav or Hand or most of the Noblus. To her, they all were no more and no less than tools. The act of utilizing them all now was just a little trickier than usual.

Pulling on a crimson robe, Hera checked herself in a mirror as she spoke. "Regardless of your limitations, Hera, I have something I require you to do. I know primarily your interactions with citizens are designed to be passive - you don't intervene unless they call upon you - but I'm here by sanctioning an overruling of that instruction. I want you to impose yourself on them. If people ask, say it's to help maintain order during the passing, whatever it takes for them to buy it. But I need you watching and listening to everyone, and in certain circumstances, I need you to 'speak up', so to speak."

Replenishing the thick black line rimming her eyes, Zera skirted her nail over the traces of deepening lines feathering from her eyes, her lips, her forehead. Since they could worsen the neural damage, she'd stopped having treatment to prevent physical aging, and all at once it seems it was sprinting to catch up with her. What would she look like at the end of The Passing?

For a fraction of a second, she was scared.

"Those seeking to depose me? Argue. Encourage everyone on the Counsel and those they're playing with to turn against one another. I want it to be your prerogative to cause as much in-fighting as possible, however you see fit, but it must be aimed away from me. I need to see how these rats cope under pressure, and I need to see what they're capable of. Encourage them as much as possible to do whatever it is they're hesitant to do. Be underhand about it. Play something whilst they're sleeping. Put them on edge - run their showers cold, burn their food, drive the temperature down just enough to make them uncomfortable. I want them in their worst possible states of mind. And then? Then, I want you to report to me how the cope. They're all dogs, but they're pampered ones. I need to know how they act when they're starving."

The rant became more and more feverish as she continued, and there seemed to be more to say when a young Slav knocked don the door and entered. "The Mercenaries have sent a girl for your, Emperor au Augustus. She's waiting in the parlor room."

Tutting, Zera dismissed the Slav and gave her reflection one last dissatisfied scowl. "More now than ever, Hera, you are loyal to me. Remember that. At the end of each day I expect a full report. Dismissed."

Drawing the cord around her robe tight, she strode from the room to where they'd left the Mercenary waiting. She looked awfully young, too doe-eyed and of a sunny disposition. Zera would reprimand her superiors on the morn. "Stand up straight, girl," she barked, snapping her fingers. "Heavens, you're barely out of the cradle. They really thought you were the best they could send?" Shaking her head, she gestured for the girl to sit.

"You are to deliver some messages for me, girl. Paper. They told me you'd be a runner, so I expect you to be prompt - if they are not delivered before daylight, I will have words with you trainers and more. If I find you have opened the letters or looked at their contents in any way, you will be executed. And I warn you, if you are not prompt about it, I will know, and you will be out of a training apprenticeship. Do I make myself clear?"

 

[Cosmic_Chaos]

​

Aria Renean
I am a Master at Parkour! Don't Underestimate me!

Aria was looking around and twiddling with her hair. This was boring. Just waiting. However, after a small while, a woman showed up, and told her to stand straight. She stood as she was shown and taught int he basics of the Mercinary training. when in front of your superiors, you are to stand straight, legs together and hands tot he side. However, Aria couldn't help the fact that she was very young. She was silent while the Emperor (or Empress?) no only berated her on her age, underestimated her, which made her see red, but she locked herself down. She didn't move even as she was gestured to sit, fearing that if she moved, she would do something rash.

Aria took mental notes as she calmed herself down, Red turning to her normal vision again. She mentally sighed in relief, as that happened, and noticed the threat at the end. 'So I die if I look at it, and if I don't deliver these things, I can't be a mercenary?' that was what she heard from this conversation. She saluted, happy to be able to move without risking someones life and with the promise of running around in general. She took a quick glance at the city, and noticing that there is a lot of buildings she'll be able to jump off of. This could almost be a training ground! "Sir Yes Sir! I promise I'll Be back before the the dawn rises at O-six-hundred, Emperor!" she said firmly, most likely sparkles shining in her eyes as she dashed out of the building before anyone could even move.

She had just scaled one of the larger buildings before her phone rang. She picked up to hear her worried brother. "Bro, Damien, Chill. It's fine. I controlled myself. Look, I have a job to do, and I'm wasting time. I'll be fine, trust me." and with that, she hang up before her brother could question her even more. She looked at her deliveries, hoping to figure out where she was supposed to go or at least who to find.

 

[KnightSergeant]

location: Citadel Space
tagging:
mentions:
ooc: redone son

Admiral Taela​

There was an uneasy feeling that washed over her as the citadel suddenly jumped into the view with its surrounding space stations and the dull background of space. The queasy feeling that sat in the bottom of her stomach had become commonplace since her first jump to the Sartau Citadel, and a smile pulled at the edges of her lips at the thought. Glancing to the side she could see a large space station floating beside the ship, the red and green lights on the tips of the long shafts reaching out into space flashing happily as the ship slowly crawled past. For a second longer her eyes lingered before snapping back to the bridge as her Lieutenant called out from their post.

“626432 kilometers and counting until contact with Citadel Command, announcing arrival to crew and bracing secondary systems for contact.” The curt voice of her lieutenant sliced through her thoughts, bringing her back to the current situation at the bridge of the ship. Before she could say anything it was followed up by another officer pressing down on a few different buttons on their console before commenting on the speed and placement of the ship as it slid past the Solus space station. Adjusting the collar of her jacket she took a few steps forward, the sharp heels of her boots clicking against the polished surface, leaning against the railing as she looked over the rows of officers below her with dull interest etched into her face. The cold of the railing seeped through her gloves as she gripped the metal railing, gaze rising inch by inch to the display ahead of her.

“417600 kilometeres in counting until contact with Citadel command...advise bracing comms.”

“Brace comms for contact with Citade Command.” The words slid out of her mouth with a chilling discipline, years of practice making the order more effortless than breathing. Without pause the officers below went about, clicking switches and pressing buttons to achieve their collective goal. Throughout the ship the engineers would be making sure the engines were prepared for shutdown, crew who had not seen their family - or the women of the joybars for some - anxiously talked amongst themselves in their quarters and the mess halls, the officers who had not the pleasure to be on the bridge at the moment were probably sighing amongst themselves at the briefings and meetings they would have to attend once planetside. To her it meant nothing, another mission complete, though not completely. It was simply another step towards a much larger goal.

“208800 kiometeres in counting until contact with Citadel command.” He looked up from his post, eyes searching for a split second before locking onto his commander. He had a long, gaut face with hollowed out eye sockets and a pair of deep blue eyes that were in a juxtaposition to the rest of his drawn out face. A thin smile crawled across her face for a moment and he turned back, seemingly pleased. Her cousin, Adrian, had recently become a Lieutenant and was assigned to her ship as a communications officer, despite her disdain for her close family. He seeked her attention she presumed, and while his infatuation may be unrequited she had the decency to feed his thinly veiled glee. It probably was not the right thing to do, she was lying to the boy after all, but the right thing to do was almost never the first thing on her mind.

“Incoming transmission from Citadel High Command.” A high female voice cried out before the display suddenly flickered and switched to the bust of an man in his forties, though he looked alot younger due to the modifications he indulged in, officers of varying ranks wandering around in the background. His beady blue eyes lit up as he realized whom he was staring down, lips splitting into a reluctant, toothy, smile that caused deep creases at the edges of his mouth and his hand coming up sharply to place itself against his upper right shoulder before he bowed deeply.

“Admiral Taela, it is quite the pleasure! Though your arrival is only fortuitous I suppose.” The words were slightly shaken as he swung back up into a rigid standing position. His eyes flicked to the side and someone could be heard talking off screen for a moment before he nodded and shooed them away. Clearing his throat he looked back to the screen, his shoulders shifting as she assumed he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You are” There was a pause as he looked to something else, squinting at it for a moment before resuming his thought out of sync with the slow swing of his head back in her direction. “You are seven days early according to your logging schedules, congratulations. Perhaps they should not have sent such an important officer to deal with some petty criminals?” The comment was not funny in the least but did its purpose to make the exchange less awkward for the small man. After all she was supposed to be dealing with her direct commander upon arrival but instead was dealing with this bumbling idiot. Still, she made an effort to smile, nodding slightly before running her hair daintily across the side of her face, rounded fingernails dancing against her scar, before pushing her short locks of hair behind her ear.

“Indeed Commander Steiber, they were quite easy to dispose of - surprisingly so in fact. Their ships were pathetically built, stolen Concilium class cruisers refitted for combat. Almost makes me think that High Command is giving me busy work now doesn’t it.” Her smile was warm, albeit small, but her the icy coldness of her tone betrayed her and the man subsequently dropped his jolly expression - face turning a shade whiter in the process before he looked to the side, his shoulders jerking as he fervently made motions to someone off camera. Turning back to her he slammed his hand to his upper left shoulder and bowed quickly.

“All the same commander you are cleared for landing whenever you wish, dock 17-A is being prepared for you in the Phi district as we speak.” He anxiously awaited her response but only got a simple nod, which seemed to be directed at both him and her subordinates, before swiftly bringing her arm up to her shoulder as he had done, bowing shallowly as the transmission cut.

“Preparing for docking in dock 17-A PHI, brace for atmospheric entry.” The words rang in the back of her head as she turned from her post, short hair bobbing slightly, and sauntered towards the set of doors that stood about ten feet away from her. The thought that maybe things had changed on this smoldering slag pit of a planet were quickly dashed as she felt its gravity gently tug on the ship, causing her stomach to lurch again.