dualislogs | i hope you're ready for a firefight ...

Entry tags:

i hope you're ready for a firefight ...

WHO: Open to all Dualizens
WHAT: Another Heart meeting, a warehouse raiding, a Travis-bot-napping.
WHERE: A different run-down warehouse on the outskirts of town.
WHEN: Jan. 15
WARNINGS: Please use these in comment subject lines if applicable!

It's been a solid four months since the last time the Heart made contact with our intrepid band of kidnapped adventurers - plenty of time to think over what was said at the last meeting, to see for yourselves what sinister plans the Head has in store for everyone, to gather your own information. The well-meaning but shit-at-acting group of revolutionaries promised they'd be in touch, and today, they've made good on that promise.

Around mid-morning, there's another mysterious text message sent from an impossible number, and just like the last time, there are a number of hoops to jump through to get to the message and security precautions to make sure the message is erased without a trace. The message this time invites you to a different run-down warehouse in the far north end of town, tonight, when the streetlights spark to life.

Shortly before sunset, it begins to rain. It's a steady shower, not a violent storm like the night the mechanical doubles attacked, but the rain is piercing and cold, not quite freezing but not far from it. Hope you remembered your umbrella!

This empty, dusty warehouse is also dimly lit inside by a few flickering overhead lights, and once the last stragglers have entered for the meeting, the lights shut off as a burst of loud electrical humming echoes through the warehouse. All electronic devices inside the perimeter of the warehouse - yes, that includes your phones! - have been temporarily disabled, and will remain so until the overhead lights come on again.

Buckle in, everyone - it's time for the shitshow to begin!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[got any chatter before the main event starts? throw it in here!]

Nick is - well, nervous is an understatement. She doesn't like the way Marie and Mello are handling this at all, but she has already made her argument against the kinds of theatrics this meeting is sure to entail, and she's been soundly overruled. She's still required to be here all the same, though she's doing so under obvious protest. She'll wear all black like the rest of them, but she's done wearing a mask. And she's decided to argue with the crowd this time, even if it costs her standing as a member of the Heart. She'll deal with the consequences later.

Right now, she's focused on the crowd gathering inside the warehouse. The rest of the group is preparing for their presentation, so Nick is alone, peeking through a side doorway, scanning the gathering for anyone she knows well enough to try to convince to leave, if she can. Maybe if fewer people are paying attention, Marie and Mello will reconsider their methods.

Duke's skeptical. Nick's told him a little about what they're dealing with in the city here, and he has his doubts: Haven also had its factions fighting against a horrible force, and in his experience most of them didn't know what they were doing, his own friends include. But each had some information the others didn't, and that's why he's here: if there's a threat they're up against, he wants to learn all he can about it.

He'd been careful going into this. He's wearing a jacket with a hood that can obscure his face if he needs, he didn't bring his phone, and he's armed and ready just in case he needs it. Duke looks around the area as soon as he enters, making contingency plans, and that's when he sees Nick at the side doorway. He gives her a brusque nod and meanders around slowly around the room, speaking up when he loops nearby her.

"Fancy seeing you here," he murmurs. "Anything I should know?"

Damn it. Her heart sinks - Duke is one of the last people Nick wants to see here - anywhere else, at any other time, she'd be thrilled, but here, in danger? Big nope. She should've warned him to stay away.

"Yeah," she says, giving the whole warehouse a quick glance-over, then behind her. Nobody seems to be paying them any attention, so maybe Duke hasn't been noticed. "You gotta get outta here. Follow me."

It was for the worst case scenario that Tidus had come--that's what he'd told most of the people he'd let know he was going beforehand. And as true as it was for the most part, he was curious about the Heart, too. For all the warnings about them, he wanted to know what they were about. There had to be more to them than their apparent screw-ups, and maybe this was the chance to find out.

He's wearing a hoodie, trying to keep his head down while taking note of the people around, the exits; simultaneously aware of what a bad idea this is by the tension in his shoulders that's also kicking him into fuck it mode. No backing down now. Most people blur as faces he doesn't recognise, not intimately, except that looks like Harry other there.

--shit. Harry?

Which aptly describes the thought that comes with the double-take Tidus experiences, staring wide-eyed. He turns away, sneaks a look back, and he doesn't let the frown already set on his face find a new way to stretch out before he's striding over with his head ducked, weaving between the few bodies away until he can lift his chin and verify a certain protruding gut and softer facial hair that Tidus will never describe as such out loud.

It's the second feature that confirms everything, and also the initiated eye contact it prompts. Eye contact that flares with accusatory and worry on Tidus's side with no more room for doubt.

"Harry?!" He keeps his voice down to his best effort. Turns away from the others, while still facing the older man. "It's not safe."

Says the whippersnapper to the guy three times his age, but like that's going to stop Tidus from trying to stress it urgently.

Harry's busy rubbing at skin beneath his now-loose collar when Tidus rounds in on him. His hand freezes and he stands there staring back as their eyes meet. Somewhere in that cloud of panic and recognition, he feels he needs to justify his presence here, but—

REACTION SPEED — Uh...

His mouth opens, even if words don't come out. It's next to impossible to come up with something at such short notice. Especially when the truth (that he needs to be here because he was told to be by the garish necktie now floating around in the bottle of 98.7% pure alcohol sat snug in his pocket) sounds a little like the ravings of a raging lunatic.

AUTHORITY — AND WHAT'S HE DOING HERE?

"Yeah, no shit. Why the hell are you here?" Oop, there we go. The words finally tumble out as a low (aggressive) growl, all while he straightens up, sucking his gut in and jutting that chest out like making himself bigger adds weight to his words.

What is this adding ten pounds up top from the bottom macho intimidation act? Tidus's frown deepens, and though he takes a instinctive step back, it's still followed by a sharpened glare and a higher raised chin in defiance.

"'Cause, I've got something I need to do," he answers stubbornly, maybe a little more than necessary. Yet it takes only seconds for his features to soften at the edges, a more worried hold pinching his mouth.

"One of their guys got taken," he continues slowly, still keeping his voice down. "Anything he knew, the Head knows. And the Head's after the Heart."

He keeps his eyes on Harry, hoping he can piece together the pieces without much more. There was no saying anything would happen here tonight, but then there was the chance. How many people even knew the risk? Nothing about this felt right.

Harry deflates a little at that - not full on punctured balloon, but like someone let just a tiny bit of that hot air out. He breaks eye contact, then, worry creasing his brow as he appears to scan the room. And the people stood near them.

Fuck.

"I've got this thing," he mumbles, voice dropping down almost low enough to be lost in the general white noise of the chatter around them. "I get these, uh... these hunches."

Does the spreading of his hands carry forth the meaning he's trying to imbue into that gesture? He manages to engage pretty much all of his facial muscles to present a real powerhouse of a frown.

"This is all gonna go super badly, huh?"

A hunch. Was it a cop thing, or a magic thing? The question creases Tidus’s brow, but he doesn’t get to ask it. He shakes his head, letting out a long breath that does nothing for the rigid state of his shoulders, the slight agitated fidget of his legs.

“I don’t know,” he confesses, with all the defeated energy of someone who believes Yes. He opens his mouth to say more--argue maybe, say how he doesn’t want anything to happen, maybe it just feels all wrong because they’re meeting with a bunch of people being chased by the Head?; they're in a dinky warehouse in the pouring rain, of course everything feels wrong--but it takes a few doubtful seconds for Tidus to find anything.

“Your hunches usually that right?”

He aims for joking hopeful. Fails to get anywhere close.

Harry only really has a week's worth of non-fuzzy evidence to go by, but based on that? Woof. His hunches have proven uncomfortably accurate, haven't they?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — And guess what? You've just remembered the existence of B-hydroxy-phenothiazine! Somewhere in the soggy remains of your factual memory, you know it's ten times stronger than diamorphine, and most commonly known as the Hunch!

You're welcome!

Harry's frown somehow manages to level up, deepening. His right hand starts tapping a quick little rhythm on his thigh: tap tap tap.

"I'd be very happy to be proven wrong, okay?" He's back to meeting Tidus's eyes with his own typically over-tired ones. They're looking a little more manic than usual, pupils blown wide. "I got a pretty good hit-rate, though," he continues, the uptick in his voice adding a false cheeriness to his words.

"This guy they caught... The Heart knows right?"

Because if not, this whole circus feels all the more ill-fated.

"No way they can't." Otherwise, how would he know? -- or so his logic tells him. But the answer is a temporary one while Tidus tries to recall the events that led to the guy’s capture, one side of his mouth askew, of which ‘how the guy got turned’ less as important these days next to 'how he can screw people over'.

"H told me," Tidus continues, looking off while racking his brain. Hopefully by deduction of the singular person they both knew, Harry knew who Tidus meant. "Another guy knew about it too." And then -- the lightbulb, a flicker of light across his face as it turns on. He looks back up at Harry, waving a hand in gesture. "The clones, when they turned the power off. They did it to get people to join them. Got a bunch of them released and attacking people."

Speaking of H, Harry makes a point of scouring the crowd again. So far, he hasn't actually seen anyone fitting Hank's description lumbering around... which either means his perception is dipping again (doubtful, considering the PREPTIDE) or the guy isn't here. At least not yet, anyway. Fingers crossed it stays that way, too. As much as it feels like shit is about to go down, now's the time where fewer friendly faces is a victory in itself.

"If they know..." He doesn't finish the sentence. An exasperated, nervy sigh lands instead. That thigh tap from before is still going at a strong, steady pace.

"You think there's gonna be another attack?"

“Here? There’s a chance,” Tidus admits with a shake of his head. He’s not shuffling so much on his feet, but there’s still a restlessness to his posture, folding his arms, glancing now at then at the other people he can see from his angle; sometimes peering over his shoulder.

“This guy they got’s their tech guy, he’s smart. If they’re lucky,” that is, the Heart, “they knew how to outsmart him. If not…”

Tidus spreads out his hands uselessly, a hopeless gesture. But as his arms fold back, there’s a tighter hold to them, a harder crease to his features.

“No one thinks they’ll listen if we tried to kill this meeting.” He sighs again, a sharp aggravated exhale; rolling his lips, stuck on what to say. “No one trusts these guys, and everyone’s got some kinda power. If things go bad, we have to do what we can.”

He says it like that’s that, because it really is. Either run or help each other, which also involves running. What else was there?

“If we’re lucky, nothing’ll happen and we might learn something.”

But it's a hollow offer, like a piece of hope to cling onto -- while they stand there, unravelling the threading themselves. He wants to just be paranoid (just like everyone else), thinking that something would happen when nothing does. Just like the Memorial Ball.

Let this be a waste of time at worst.

Beneath all the alcohol and (mild) brain damage, Harry's still a fairly smart guy. There's a lot of knowledge buried in his head—he just... struggles to make the necessary jumps to pull it up and use it appropriately.

Dualis's tech is ridiculously advanced compared to Revachol's, so maybe he's missing another fundamental thing, but... Well, what Revachol does have is an incredibly bloody history of revolutions and take overs. The streets of Martinaise are riddled with bullet holes. The shore has craters from mortars that make the docks look like they were attacked by the limbs of some gargantuan sea-monster. Never would he recommend a revolutionary group all come together in a territory filled with the occupying force.

So, you know, watch him let that piece of hope float on by. The reason he's here is the reason he stood between the dock workers and the mercenaries: he wants to limit the damage.

Which, he supposes, is why Tidus is here, too.

"Look, I got a gun and worst comes to worst, something extra." He gestures towards Tidus. "I saw that little glow back in the alley. I'm guessing that's what you mean by power, right?"

It takes Tidus a second to realise what Harry means, but then he nods, raises his hands and the metal-knuckled covered gloves he's wearing. He lets the fingers flex, and a soft white light dances off from their tips.

"I've got a few tricks," --but probably the most oddest part of him to be note of is the lump around the back of where he's tied a chequered shirt to hang around his waist, mostly concealing something back there-- "but you can't tell what a person can or can't do by looking at them. Anyway, the thing is..."

Should he tell Harry? It's not like Tidus has any reason to distrust him, and he doubts there's even less reason to think he might do something like, what, stop him? His lips twist against one another, and he gives another look around them before continuing.

"We want their guy that turned. They wanna figure how to deprogram him -- he's less damage if he's with us."

Harry lets out a soft, surprised sound at the reappearance of the shifting light. Something that'd be a whistle if his mouth had found the right shape in time. He doesn't understand it, or know what is does exactly, but... it's cool. It looks cool. A kind of cool that makes his chest feel funny—like it did seeing the phasmid unfold.

His eyes flick up again as he listens, bobbing his head a little to show yes, he's listening and not totally distracted thinking about magic and cryptids and...

God, this is a ridiculous amount to try and process. He pauses for a beat or two. Let's the logical side of his brain catch up.

"And what? You think he's gonna be here?"

"Fifty-fifty chance," Tidus supplies with a twist of his head, a slow shake. "If he isn't, he isn't. And then we look for him the harder way."

There was just opportunity, a possibility of the guy showing up. It's not like he had to, but who knew what would happen? It was just another part of trying to navigate and survive Dualis: bumbling around through the dark and hoping for the best. Travis was another part of that.

"But I can knock him out quick if he is. Then we just need to get him out."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i hope you're ready for a firefight ...

prelude.

no subject

no subject

no subject

closed to harry (hobocop)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw for drug mentions

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject