dualislogs | there's a pattern, there's a pattern, there's a pattern there to follow ...

[you've been checking out some of the shadier-looking places in this town, right? well, if you happen to make your way down to the boardwalk in the south end of dualis, there are a few places past the lights and noise where the paint's worn down that might be worth looking into. one of those places is a bar that is simply called RICK'S, and it is a complete dive.

if you step inside, you'll see that this place has probably seen better days, and those days were many, many years ago. the carpet is a dark red with even darker stains from foot traffic and spills and a few bloodied noses - not too noticeable in the dim light, unless you know what you're looking at. the air smells stale with cigarette smoke, even though the door has been propped open tonight to let a cool breeze from the lake filter inside. the booths are dark vinyl with wisps of white stuffing escaping through where it's cracked and peeled open, and a glance up at the ceiling shows a few of the tiles are missing.

there's a small platform stage in the front corner of the room, near the door, and a young woman with dark hair and plain clothes perches on a stool, playing a guitar and singing a song for the few patrons scattered across the room, sitting at tables and booths with their drinks of choice.

won't you come inside and join them?]

[Well, guess he did find one of the shadiest place available. He takes a careful look around before walking in, moving to order... some kind of beer (that's the norm right?) before going to look for a table. The setting drags up memories of a past that doesn't belong to him. In a place more proper and better-maintained than this.

He's trying to get a feel for the people here. Maybe invade a table of another lone patron who looks like they might talk. Just slide into the seat like he belongs there. No big deal.]

[sitting with a stranger isn't the strangest thing to ever happen in a bar, so wherever squall chooses, he won't be questioned about it. the rest of the bar's patrons are mostly paying attention to the woman on the stage. her song ends and she takes the time while the audience offers scattered applause to re-tune the strings of her guitar. a man in a booth at the back of the room who has had a couple drinks too many boos loudly and shouts for her to play some real music. she looks up from her guitar and addresses him on the microphone:]

Hey pal, if you think you can do better, ya wanna get up here and give it a try? I mean, think carefully about how you answer that,'cause lemme tell ya, that's exactly how I ended up in a band in the first place.

[the audience laughs, and the heckler waves her challenge off. she smiles triumphantly and forcefully strums her guitar to make sure it's in tune again. satisfied with the sound, she introduces the next song:]

Speaking of, this is the song that started all that trouble in the first place. Hope y'all enjoy this one - well, everyone except Carson Daly back there.

[she nods to indicate the heckler and begins to play a more uptempo tune.]

[This woman certainly stands out. He shifts uncomfortably when she addresses the heckler, crossing his arms and tries to stay under the radar for now. He doesn't need to be called out in public, so he'll bide his time and wait until her performance is over to approach her.

The music is unfamiliar so he pays little attention to what she's actually singing. He makes a face when he finally takes a sip of his beer though. Ugh...]

[it's ok, squall, beer isn't for everyone. booze is all about trying things until you find what you like, after all. for some people, it's beer or a specific kind of wine; for others, it's a simple vodka tonic or whiskey on the rocks. you figure it out eventually.

the woman on stage finishes her song and thanks the crowd for their attention, then says she has one more song to play and encourages everyone to stay after and have another drink. the song isn't long, and the audience gives her a solid round of applause when it's over - yes, including the heckler from the back of the room.

the stage lights go down and the house music comes back up - nothing notable, just pleasant ambient sound designed to fill the background. the woman makes her way around the tables, chatting with the regulars - and most of the people here tonight seem to be regulars. eventually, she ends up at squall's table.]

Don't think I've seen you here before. New to town?

[He's not getting up to get another, so he continues to nurse it while taking the occasional drink. He's eyeing her as she comes over to his table. He can't quite tell what she's about but she sure has a way with the regulars here.

He nods.]

Almost three months now.

[He's keeping score.]

I thought I'd check out the smaller establishments. [A pause.] Meet some people.

[He's so not the type to want to meet anyone ever.]

Yeah? [she chuckles quietly.] Well, I wouldn't say Rick's is the smallest place in town, but it's probably in the top ten. So you're in the right place for that.

[also for meeting people. she holds out her hand for squall to shake, if he's inclined to do so.]

I'm Nick. I work the bar, mostly, but Rick also lets me play sometimes.

[so that probably explains why she's so familiar with people from the audience.]

Squall.

[He'll shake, reluctantly. He nods in response to the explanation and makes the world's stiffest attempt at a fake compliments ever.]

You... play well.

[ Greetings and Salutations, Mr. Cloud. The Malakye Family Wishes for you to join them for lunch this evening. ]

A small message and coordinates delivered right to Cloud's inbox with an RSVP to one of the fancier restaurants in the north side of town. When coming out of the housing a fancy car is waiting with some fellow goons, keeping it classy all the way.

Once arriving at the appointed place, he would be lead like a VIP through the large kitchens, up the back stairs into a large room filled with dark lighting and couches. EVerything is dark even the walls are covered in dark draperies. No one else seems to be in the room.

Well almost. The goons will close the door once Cloud is inside. it is only then that both a mass of power can be felt and the lights illumiate the room. leaning against the wall stands a tall lithe man in a fine pinstripped suit, he has on coat tails thatnearly reach the floor on one side, and lots of fancy embriodery on the coat as well his face covered in a simple plain mask, with light elegant design.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Cloud. I am glad you could join us tonight." His voice sounds more electronic than not, something strange there. "Can I get you a drink?

[The invitation had been so out of the blue, part of him had been suspicious to receive it. Was it a guilty conscience that made him feel that way? Probably. He was aware that some of his own memories- namely setting up the bomb that took out the Sector 2 Reactor in his world- had been put out there. Not anything committed here- of course- but something that couldn't just be explained away.

...Least of all to the families, who had taken just as much of an interest in the Heart as anyone else. If not, more. Explosions and the like were bad for business. So it's for that reason he's worried, but it's not like he's got a choice.

He's silent as he's driven to the place, his gaze flicking between the goons. Co-goons, really. He knew their faces from work. He's just as silent as he's led through the building; it rising to its peak as the door is closed on him, glowing eyes widening as he wonders- at least fleetingly- if this is going to be an interrogation.

You're not alone.

... And that's a flashy entrance.
At least it means he can stop worrying. The man- he can't make out his face, but his manner, his clothing. He's a step above the goons. A step above him. There wouldn't be any point of having someone like this waste his time on something like what he'd feared. It'd be an alley, right? An alley, some goons, and guns.

He complies.]

No, thanks.

[He answers, as he sits. And briskly- because if his employers knew anything about him now, it was the fact he kept his head down and simply got on with it-]

Why am I here?

[ Yes, in an alleyway where a simple hose could wash away the blood. Not here amongst the plus carpets. Everything would hold a stain. Besides those black drapes.

The man stepped forward his hands staying behind his back, the best that could be seen of the man himself was his neck was pale, and his hair appeared to be a silvery-white shade. He stopped moving about the center of the room as he watched Cloud sit. Not at all bothered by the quiet of the man. He's been watching him for awhile now. ]

As you wish, I can explain, of course, as you know there was a small glitch, a cog in the gears as it were. In this I feel you are well aware of the memories that were broadcast around.

One such being yours of course. I ask, do you have any information you would like to share with the family.

...Yeah.

[The mention of the memory- at least in singular form and pertaining to him in particular, makes his blood feel as though it dropped a few degrees. Although he'd actually gave off quite a few memories, he doubted he'd be called here for any of the others. He can only be talking about the bombing.

His eyes continue to follow the figure, watching him come to his stop- and lingering.

There's no point dragging it out. It's clear he knows.]

It wasn't here.

[Midgar was ...similar to Dualis, sure. But he doubted the guts of a reactor would strike anyone as similar to the streets. No matter how hard they wanted to find the Heart. And there was Barret, who appeared in the memory with him. Surely a guy walking the streets of Dualis with a machine gun arm would stick out.

The only issue, to him, is the police. And if they had the desire to pin the bombing on someone rather than no-one.

He tries to keep his voice dismissive, tries to make it sound uninterested. But perhaps the tall gentleman can hear the uncertainty in it.]

Someone I know's talking to the cops about it, in case they decide they want to bring me in to at least look like they're doing their jobs. And they'll know it's not me- My date of arrival can be verified by the Head- which proves whatever happened here with the bombing happened before I got here. It's nothing to do with me.

[A pause.]

I'm not gonna draw attention to what either of the families' operations with them coming to get me. They're going to know it's pointless.

[A pause. And he glances, again, to the man.]

...Did you get the Head's memories too? Or just ours?

Edited 2019-09-02 13:06 (UTC)

[ The man simply nodded, he had figured as much, but it was always safer to ask. He knows enough to get by, as much as their bosses allow. A few steps above Cloud, a few below the bosses.

Forever at their beck and call. ]

Do not speak to the police unless you have no choice. The Family does not wish to have the authorities involved unless they are on the payroll. Which we will aim to push for if you are pulled in. You do good work, Mr. Cloud. We would like to keep you on as long as we can, the police will simply make that harder.

[ He nodded after a second before adding. ]

Anything I have seen is not of importance, I am merely a voice for the family.

[ He unfolded his arms and stepped forward holding a hand out to shake such an odd time but, the visable blue eyes under the mask were locked on cloud, a tightly folded bit of paper had an address on it and a time and date, midnight, the next day, to be slipped into Cloud's hand should he shake. ]

My name is V, I am a voice for the bosses, please feel free if you think of anything useful to contact your contacts to contact me. The bosses of course will compentate you for your time. For now their are no further questions.

All right. I won't.

[The latter half of that statement makes his eyebrows furrow a little- the part about the family actually assisting him, anyway. Are they concerned he'll talk? Or was the statement meant in the spirit of which it was said? ...He didn't know.

He's a mook. He runs packages from place to place. Drops off drop-offs, collects collections. On occasion, he disposes of vehicles. All as out of the view of the cities' extensive surveillance, and as timely, as reliably, as he can manage. He didn't ask questions- nor did he show aversion to any of it. He just simply did it- because what the Malakye and Agataela families do- it's not his business. He's entry-level. If even that.

Which makes it slightly strange they're showing him loyalty- at least by comparison to the shadier slum crimelords from his world. He's replaceable. But instead of being judged as a risk and dealt with, he's given assurances?

Even if they're understaffed, and that's somehow the cause for this, he's here for a year. Allegedly. So why would he matter?

His scepticism is interrupted as V closes the distance between them and offers his hand. He's forced to lift his head up to view his blue eyes with his own mako ones as he does- since V's height is significantly greater than his own. And he feels the neat, folded bundle of paper press into his palm. He lowers his eyes, but says nothing on it- keeping his hand closed to not betray what he's been given as he withdraws.]

...Yeah, I will. If I see anything. Can I leave?

[ Very good.

Very very good. V was impressed but he couldn't let it show. Even if the man before him couldn't see his face he knew he was being watched and he couldn't let his facade break at all. Cloud wasn't important to the families, no he was important for something else all together, but V liked to make people feel useful, it made minions work harder.

A happy minion is a productive minion.]

Yes, you may leave. The car is waiting.

[ If Cloud choose to go to the time and place on the sheet, he would find himself at an empty werehouse, one near the ruins but not actively in used, one without graffiti. The door was unlocked and it was dark inside aside from an small light burning towards a wall where someone was waiting in the shadows again, the coat and mask gone, but a hoodie in place pulled up to cover his hair. The same blue eyes peered from under it.

He took a risk coming here but, he was watched and this was the safest way.

His paranoia knew no bounds. ]

Edited 2019-09-05 15:40 (UTC)

[Finding the place hadn't been difficult, not with the amount of times he'd been to districts just like this. Even the shifting streets don't feel that arduous thanks to the fact he'd done this before- many times before- going to and from where Seifer had set up his forge.

His eyes are keen as he approaches the warehouse- keeping a careful eye around him- around it- as he enters. Perhaps V's paranoia paid off. To his gaze, at least, it doesn't seem that anyone's around. He lingers by the entranceway, calling out as some warning- mostly to not get shot at- before he moves deeper inside.

That is, if V didn't intend to shoot him anyway. And he'll risk it. He's not exactly defenceless. Beside that, if that was V's intention, he could've taken a pop in a multitude of different ways. He doesn't think it's that. So what is it?

He's here to find out.]

Come on, quickly, bolt the door.

[ The voice spoke without the eletronic mixer, a deep rumble of a voice. Once Cloud came closer, V pushed off the wall walking to meet him partway across the wide open room.

Walking with an air of confidence, only once the door was bolted would the lights a light above where V stopped kick on, clearly at least one other person is here, but that was fine, most of the windows were boarded up anyway.

Lowering the hood his platinum hair fell into view along with his face. ]

I am glad to see you came, I worried you might not. I don't often get a chance to speak to those outside of the family's main circle and there are things you, like me as an outsider, should know.

[He had no reason to truly think it, but he'd half wondered if he had been talking with a machine before. Clearly not, apparently. V's just as tall now- but significantly less imposing with his face on display.

That's not to say he's at ease. Perhaps it's a military thing; when the door is bolted and when an exit is shut off, he's anything but comfortable. However...]

What do you know?

[ V wanted everyone to think he was a machine at work, so he had the right idea. With his face on display he looks younger, softer. Almost hurt in the way those blue eyes shift looking at Cloud. ]

I know that their is a group looking for men like you. Follow your heart and find them. I risk my very life even speaking to you, but someone needs to tell you to find the heart of the matter and rise up.

You're talking about the Heart, right?

[His voice lowers slightly at that. It also changes in far more than volume, tone lowering to indicate pensiveness. Then, it turns brisk, flattening into disinterest.]

I've heard all of this before. "Rise up", "Wake up", "Listen to the Heart", all of it. I'm not interested.

[The motivational statements are lost on him, clearly. But. His eyes switch to V suddenly, keenly- practically glowing in the dim light of the surroundings.]

The only thing I give a damn about is how the Head lied. If you- all of you- know something, you need to come out with it if you expect any kind of help.

Edited 2019-09-24 21:21 (UTC)

I am indeed, Cloud.

[ Vergil closed his eyes and shook his head some. ]

That much I can not give the answer myself, we work as a unit, there are many things I can not do because of the family. Many things I can't say even of my own choice.

...Their will be a meeting soon, just... just come when the message comes out.

[ he almost seemed pained saying it. ]

[Hey, Seifer, how's that forge going? It's been pretty peaceful, yeah? No interruptions from the law just yet?

Well...that part still isn't changing, at least. Dualis has always seemed a little too big even for it's many denizens, and this area of town is pretty run-down, seemingly abandoned in favor of other spots closer to the city center. Places with more street lights, just a little more police presence. There's really none out here, aside from the occasional sweep just to make sure nothing too illicit is going on. But that's for the best, isn't it? Especially if you don't want to be seen, and there are plenty of folks who feel that way.

In fact, if you take just the right turn down just the right alley--or perhaps the wrong one--you might stumble upon some graffiti from one such stranger. Or maybe multiple strangers. It doesn't look like much at first--a day-glo wave of faces, abstract shapes--but there in the center...doesn't that look a little like a heart? And the scrawl underneath--doesn't it look like words, if you turn your head and squint just a little?

rise up.

Of course, if you stay long enough to read those words, unfortunately you're also there long enough to hear the sound of a pair of boots down the other end of the alley, and a male voice calling out that might sound vaguely familiar--but from where, you aren't sure.]

Hello? Someone there?

[Seems like it might be too late to run. Hope you've got a good excuse for being out here. An interest in certain historical architecture, maybe? Some old buildings you might be looking for? Or perhaps you're just interested in modern street art??? Either way, you better have those words ready fast...here comes a flashlight, and a shadowed figure approaching rapidly.]

[It's been very peaceful and he'd like it to stay that way, thank you. Although he has this ever looming concern that it might not stay so secret forever. Until then, he's going to try to have his fun. Not like he's made anything substantially questionable just yet. Surely a hobbyist building a couple small knives and tongs isn't a threat to public safety... Surely.

Still, he would be remiss in not making an effort to survey the surrounding area to ensure as much of his shop remains secret as possible. From potential looters and the authorities both. It was a good idea to explore and get a feel for some of the culture of the area anyway. There was more than one way to figure out how somewhere was run, and graffiti could give an interesting look into underlying sentiments that people weren't willing to say aloud.

Sentiments such as those displayed by the rather eye-catching wall painting he had just meandered past, in fact. Impossible to miss with those brilliant colors, it only took him a few moments to realize the heart in the middle. The Heart, surrounded by faces, what could it all mean? He felt it pretty obvious this had something to do with the terrorist organization that bombed the parade and sent out those cryptic messages, beyond that he had nothing.

Except unwanted company. Deciding against offering any information he didn't have to he decided playing stupid might be the way to go for the moment.]

Ain't nobody you need to worry about. Just a guy walkin' his dog.

[Which, indeed, he did have the odd creature at his heel. Still, he moved to block the animal safely behind one leg while he stared after the stranger in question, squinting into the light cast by his flashlight.]

Dog...?

[The beam of that flashlight tilts downward, taking in the creature hovering behind Seifer's leg. After a moment, it tilts back to examine Seifer's face one more time, then angles away from both of them, towards the side of the building. When the spots finally fade from the light, a few yards in front of Seifer he'll see a young man: medium tall, shaggy brown hair, eyes an indeterminate shade in the dim light, wearing the uniform of the Dualis Police Force. He might look a little familiar, too, if you look hard enough. If you remember.

The young officer looks at Seifer and sighs, then looks towards the side of the building, his light playing over the graffiti.]

You should really be careful out here. It's not safe at night, for you or your dog. There's a lot of gang activity, and we don't have that many patrols out here. The center of the city is much safer.

You didn't see who did this, did you?

[After all, the paint still looks pretty fresh. Not like, five-minutes fresh, but still. The grime hasn't begun to settle in yet. He doesn't have much hope, but hey, it's worth asking.]

[The creature ducked further behind his leg, away from the offending beam, likewise Seifer rose an arm to shield his eyes while he tried to squint through it. Far too bright to see anything of the person interrogating them, that is until the light moved away and the burn faded from his eyes. It was still difficult to make out any details, though he immediately put more of his guard up at seeing that uniform. Though he did look familiar, Seifer couldn't quite yet place if it was from one of those many memories he'd been flooded with recently, or the police station itself. Either way, he could only entertain caution at the moment.

He continues to study the officer, trying to place exactly where.]

Can't see why they'd bother little old me, but I'll keep it in mind.

[He's more trouble than he's worth to harass, honestly. Not that anyone would know that. As for the next question he shook his head and offered a faint shrug.]

You're the only person I've seen out here all night.

[In fact, he eyes him more suspiciously, after all usually the patrols were by the robots, weren't they?]

I feel like I've seen you around before.

[Or maybe not specifically around but him. The image of someone dropping to the ground in a sickening fashion like a broken puppet comes to mind.]

You never know. With the way things have been in the city lately, it's better to be safe than sorry. Unless you've got a reason for being out here? You wouldn't happen to be meeting up with anyone, would you?

[He doesn't seem to notice Seifer's suspicion. Either that, or he's used to it. And he seems to have plenty of his own, shooting Seifer another one of those looks like he's sizing him up.]

Officer Kururugi. Dualis Police Force. I'm pretty sure we haven't met, unless you make a habit of hanging around the station?

Already told you, just walkin' my dog.

[He likes to take long walks. Nothing suspicious with that, right? Of course, Seifer seemed likewise indifferent or unconcerned with the suspicions being returned his way. After all, it was very suspicious he was out there. But he had nothing to do with the graffiti.

He hummed thoughtfully.]

Maybe. Been by once. Or maybe I saw you somewhere else, things've been kinda odd around here lately.

[He thumbs over his shoulder toward the big heart painted on the wall again.]

What with weird messages and mass hallucinations and all.

[Right, nothing at all suspicious there, except for the parts that are.

He seems willing enough to be distracted, at least, or to put aside his suspicions, though, when Seifer mentions the strangenesses that seem to be going around. There's a troubled expression on his face as he examines the graffiti, as though there's something he's trying to put together.]

You're not wrong. Things have been a little crazy ever since the festival. We haven't stopped moving, and this graffiti just keeps turning up...I keep telling my supervisor we need to get a regular patrol going out here, catch whoever's doing it, but they just don't seem to think it's a priority. I guess they're not wrong, considering, just...what if this group is behind what's going on right now, too?

[After a moment, he shakes his head and looks at Seifer, forcing a smile.]

You don't have to worry, though. We'll catch them sooner or later. No one stays hidden forever. Have you gone in for the vaccine yet?

[Suspicious? What? No. Everything here is totally normal.

Seifer's eyes follow back up to the neon art, brows furrowed. He'd not put too much throught into this Heart thing. Perhaps he should have.]

You'd be surprised what a couple teenagers with enough determination and some cans of spray paint can accomplish.

[He's just really not worried about it.]

What's the problem with it anyway? Just wall art. I think anyone plotting city-wide network interferences and bombings has better things to do with their time than paint the side of an abandoned factory. [He shrugs.] Just my thought on it anyway.

[The officer might be smiling, but he isn't. Oh no, he's not volunteering for that.]

What vaccine? The test? Nah, I got shit to do. Don't have time to be under the weather. What about you?

there's a pattern, there's a pattern, there's a pattern there to follow ...

SQUALL.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

CLOUD

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

the voice speaking at the start of the clip.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

SEIFER.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject