Corruption.

[Fair_Game]

Basking in thousands of tiny lights, flickering faster than the human eye could see cascaded around Shauna as she buried herself in her monitor. Her desk was empty. A pin sat in a blank coffee cup she had never used, a single paperclip collected dust on the cedar countertop. One leaflet of paper sat in a black portable organizer labled 'in' on one shelf and 'out' on the other. Devoid of pictures, stickers, cut-out comics, books, cd's, memo's, jokes. Devoid. A single chair pushed close to the cubicle wall so that her knees were touching the keyboard. Her fingers danced magestically never darting to persue the casual mouse sitting unused next to the roll out keyboard shelf. Her outward appearance never changed during the full eight hour span, she took no breaks...just sat patiently fighting back tears.

'Red eyes,' she typed in to the search engine loaded up on her screen. It was an odd thing to do. The figure she had seen earlier that morning had burned a scorching image in her head like staring at a light bulb too long leaving its imprint on your retina. All she could see when she closed her eyes, a familiar red eye.

A quick alt-tab switched her monitor over to a work related window where she continued working coding as instructions poured over the screen. She devised the program herself and now no longer required paperwork to be dropped off at her desk. It would cooly receive any new information sent to her inbox and translate it before her on one screen depicting the scheduled changes that Big Brother needed made, most of it updating web sites, deleting propaganda and stifling media attention. When her boss, Project Manager Grasso, a fat sweaty putrid man who had often inappropriately caressed Shauna (to her disgust), found out about the program and its effeciency he immediately pounced on it. Quickly, he had a few engineers work on it to make it more user friendly and then stamping his approval on it sent the program to Big Brother claiming the credit for its design. Now almost globably the program was employed in almost any terminal registered to the Government. It had secured PM Grasso's possition indefinately. Shauna had winced.

What they didn't know about the program was its ability to constantly update itself to the speed of work the user was used to, creating backups of its previous work like an auto-save feature. A few buttons and the program would start saving excess work in a seperate folder to be turned in on a revolving basis. This kept the radar well off Shauna as her productivity was too high to not be noticed and that was the one thing she feared most. Imagine, timid Shauna blushing and running out of an assembly offering to vote her 'most dedicated employee'. The thought caused her to blanch.

Her fingers switched back to the search engine to reveal a disheartening 0 results.

Her eyelids fell closed revealing the red image blazing like a phoenix in her vision. His stern form had an almost seductive look to it, she felt an inner growl of hunger iminate from under his dark overcoat, inhuman anger and passion. She flushed and forced her eyes open. 7:30. The sound of the elevator dinged audibly, morning rush.

'Oh, god...no not now!' She thought angrily trying her best to get back to her work and clean the flushed look from her face, but the quicker she strove to cleanse herself the deeper the burning in her face grew! The elevator doors opened abruptly and out stumbled a large crowd after a raucous morning meeting, one of them wearing a long pointed cap and a party whistle between his lips stumbled around garishly. 'A birthday celebration?' She thought liberally staring at the fumbling figure. Then, to her horror, he turned and stared blankly into her eyes. An odd grin tugged at the sides of his lips.

'Oh please...he's coming over...no...' She thought breathing heavily. The thin party-going male planted a firm palm on her desktop leaving a ring of heat around his warm flesh. He was dashed. The larger than life grin still hanging loosely on his lips, which still clung loosely to a whistle. He started to speak but found himself inept, realizing his blunder he reached a hand up to the toy and tossed it in a garbage can across the short hall. Suprized by his successful toss his smile grew wider and he slowly turned his attention to Shauna.

'Hey there, pretty lady. Your kinda new around here ain'tcha? Don't worry,' he took an awkward bow and nearly lost his footing, totally drunk, 'uh...well you wouldn't happen to need someone to show you around town...because I know...' but his voice faded. The heat in Shauna's face had risen to her ears cutting the rest of his speech off.

'NO THANK YOU, I'M VERY BUSY PLEASE!' she shouted abruptly. The drunken fool stared down at her, unable to distinguish what had just happened. 'Please, remove your hand from my desk....and leave me alone...' He stared at his hand and awkwardly removed it...then noticing the ring he left tried to wipe it up with his tie which was attatched to his neck.

Words started to tumble out of his mouth but he couldn't control himself, then regaining some composure he turned on his heels and strode back into the throng of laughter at his expense.

Shauna sat shivering in her seat with her hands in her face, tears flowed freely as her mind started spinning out of control, images of her naked on the steps of her neighbors porch swam through her pulling and retching her in the currents like the large strong hands of the rebels who had tried to hurt her.

Then, the red light burned brightly in her thoughts like a bloody ray of hope and she clung to it. The lifeline tugged her safely out of her nightmare and left her coldly back at her desk. When she opened her eyes she found herself staring starkly into the familiar glare of the white camera box and large black lens with the solid red iris.

Watch over me, please. Please.

She was alone again, the room was empty. Her work spooled in front of her seemingly confused as to the sudden halting of constant commands being issued. And the calming gaze of Big Brother beamed down on her.

Then it clicked.

She couldn't find any citizen ever registered to the Government having red eyes because the man she had seen wasn't a citizen.

Drying her tears for the second stint of the day, Shauna quickly returned to her work while simulteneously she pushed deeper into the Government secret files. Careful of her presense being notice she set up an ip scrambler to keep her well under the radar. The past few years working for the government had revealed the many discrepencies with work ethic in her department and she ended up writing much of the code for protecting the government safety measures. PM Grasso's little ploy to get his work done without doing anything, if only he knew how much Shauna could actually do to him.

Her fingers punched in the commands to search all government files for any information on anyone under government protection with red for eye color. 1 match.

'An...agent?' a single white feather floated by her window...she didn't notice.

 

[Nami]

OOC: Geez, I've got to get caught up. This RP is definitely moving along...
Edit: I snipped a bunch of unimportant and irrelevant dialogue to save you all from having to read it. (Yaay, me.)

IC:
Wearily, the girl and the monkey arrived at the industrial district. The girl and the monkey went to an abandoned shop. They did not go inside, however. They proceeded to make their way onto the roof. On the roof was a hole barely large enough for Nimble to fit into (just the right size for Jack). "Check," signed Nimble. Jack nodded, then disappeared. He returned, shook his head as if he were shaking something off of his fur, and scratched his earlobe. Nimble sighed a breath of relief. The serinette was the most difficult item to get through the hole. The duo worked together to put all of their belongings through the hole before they themselves jumped in.

This "campsite" was a place in which the pair had camped before. They had found that the insides of rooftops rarely had video cameras unless they were completed attics. They hardly paid attention to sound equipment, for the sounds they may make were difficult to distinguish from the sounds of a stray bird or some other creature. This rooftop was not built for inhabitants. The duo had pushed all of the insulation against the sides and cleared an area for the tent. The duo set up the tent promptly.

This was the duo's favorite time of the day. Nimble felt confident in the population's inability to understand her. However, she still tended to be guarded or cautious, lest her everyday activities be misunderstood to be conspiratorial. This little bit of respite played a large role in keeping her together. Neither Nimble nor Jack had ever had any respite in their home country. The duo signed comfortably and freely to each other.

"Why has the government allowed us to have refuge in their country?" Nimble mused.

"Because they don't consider us a threat," Jack answered with barely a thought.

"Is it really that simple? I had heard that this country do not allow immigrants unless the immigrant first swore loyalty to the government. We have yet to swear our loyalty. Do they really think we're just stray dogs?"

"Of course," Jack answered, again without pause. "Nimble, why are you so cautious? You think too much. Let's just enjoy our opportunity and forget about it."

Nimble did not look as if she would simply stop worrying about it, but she nodded all the same. With the conversation at an end, Jack and Nimble lied down to sleep.

Morning came quickly. They had to rise just before daybreak so that they could stay somewhat concealed in shadow as they left. The duo packed up their things and made their way out of the hole and onto the ground. Nimble and Jack enjoyed the rays of the rising sun. There were so many things they were not able to appreciate before they moved to this country. This country wasn't so bad. The pair left the industrial district and walked to the area now filling with people. They had always picked a certain location for their entertainment. They did it for the benefit of the silver haired old woman who always dropped a small coin into Jack's hat. Nimble set up her serinette and Jack pulled out his top hat. Nimble cranked out the music that did not match the hearts of many of the downtrodden. Jack danced with merriment that was not reflected in the faces of most.

 

[Ryvius]

((You guys post hella fast, geez. I guess there's no time for taco breaks If I plan to get caught up. Also I failed to keep this post quite as trimmed as I try to sometimes, hopefully it's not too boring to read.))

Rill took in the past few seconds, his thoughts moving faster than anyone in the room could move. He briefly considered helping the man seemingly come to his rescue, after all how is letting someone else fight any different from fighting himself? The only difference here is that an innocent may get hurt. Not that anyone in the bar was innocent as far as Rill new, but he tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. So far the man who had defended him was getting a little more doubt than the people who had threatened him. However, he dismissed the notion. He would wait and see how things turned out; perhaps the man could take all three on his own. He would intervene only if he needed to. Rill quickly slipped past and through the door. He took a few steps to get out of the doorway, and leaned back against the wall. He continued to think while trying to listen to the commotion in the bar, to make sure the man whose name he didn’t even know was all right.
<o> </o>
Part of Rill cursed himself for being a coward, but he knew better than to listen to that voice. He had to avoid engaging in violence at all costs. Despite all his philosophy of peace and love, the biggest reason he would not fight was one most people wouldn’t suspect. He had to avoid fighting because he enjoyed it so much. Rill knew more than most the pleasure of being superior, of breaking your opponent. He knew the primal pleasure of bringing pain to another human, bringing physical pain in the simplest way possible. Harming another person with a weapon couldn’t rival the rush one got from using one’s one body. Rill’s greatest fear was that the pleasure would grow greater than his own restraint. Human life is precious; he didn’t have the right to take it from anyone.
<o> </o>
When Rill was eleven his family stayed in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Kazakhstan</st1lace></st1:country-region> for a while. Rill didn’t have many memories of it; they had stayed less than six months and hadn’t traveled much. They were only there on some business his father had with an old friend from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">France</st1lace></st1:country-region>. Rill didn’t remember much about the man they stayed with though. Only one memory from that place burned in his mind. Rill had always been privately taught by his father and mother, he had no social life. He did have some free time though, and he enjoyed recreation as much as any kid. In places where there were public facilities for sports activities and the like, Rill would get to know any children that frequented them. Local children were not always friendly to a foreigner though, and Rill’s small size for his age didn’t help any. His first real taste of that was in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">Kazakhstan</st1lace></st1:country-region>. There was a recreational center not far from where his family was staying that had, among other available activities, a few basketball half-courts. When he decided to check it out, he injected himself in the only court with any players, the majority of a local high school hockey team. He was too busy playing to notice their disdain, but when he started winning they decided to voice it more physically.

An entire hockey team beating on an eleven-year old child would seem cowardly of course, so only one of the boys stepped up to pick the fight with Rill. Rill was small for his age, this boy was huge for his age. When it came to pure strength, Rill was outmatched as he often would be later in his life. Rill knew how to use that size against him though. Rill remembers every action he took that day vividly. He remembers how slow the boy’s punches looked, he remembers grabbing his left arm and raising up with a sharp kick that would have broken the boy’s arm if they were evenly matched for strength, but given the size difference Rill couldn’t even reach his arm. So he adapted, aimed his kick more inward, sent the boy falling forward, flailing to free his wrist from Rill’s. He wriggled free of Rill’s grasp, but it didn’t held him much as Rill dropped his heel down on his head. For that moment, there was no one in the world but him and the boy he was fighting. He effortlessly tossed him off balance again and again, showering him with kicks and smashing his face into the ground. Even as the boy lay with his head propped against the clear plastic barrier that fenced in the half court, Rill only sent another blow flying into his face. Adrenaline pumping, Rill smiled inside as he felt the barrier give, felt it shatter, and felt the boy’s entire face bend inward under the force of his blow. Then, as he backed away, the world returned to him.

What had seemed like minutes to Rill had only been seconds, now the boy’s friends who had rushed to his aid were there, the facility workers running out from whatever concession stand or front desk they happened to run. None of them could do anything though, Rill looked at the limp body of his opponent in stupefied shock. His face was an unrecognizable bloody mess, his head held up by the thick shard of plastic Rill had spiked his head down on, the skin on the back of his head ripped up as the barrier met skull and dragged upwards. His friends and the workers all cried out in a language Rill didn’t understand, but he didn’t need a translation. They spoke with a panic and sadness that Rill had never felt before. Rill finally realized what he had done. He had killed a boy. It had been easy, only taken a few seconds. Rill could keep doing it. He could kill anyone he wanted. He wouldn’t though. He never took a step down that path. Everything after that was a blur; he didn’t remember what happened with the police, or what his father told him. All he remembered was the panicked tone of the people, and the sadness in their eyes. Human life is a precious, precious thing. Nobody has the right to take away life.
<o> </o>
Rill’s thoughts had been taken away to the past, to remind him why he had taken such a cowardly route out of the bar. Now was not the time to be spacing out though, he had to pay attention to make sure the man didn’t end up needing someone to step in and help him out as he had done just moments ago for Rill. He hoped that the tall man would be taken down quick because of the surprise of the attack, and the drunks would be taken care of more easily than there size implied. Then Rill would only have to greet the man as he walked out the door. He would wait even if the man didn’t need help, to talk to him of course. Rill wanted to at least know his name, and pay back the favor he now owed to him if possible. Besides, he couldn’t leave in any case; he never paid for his wine.

 

[Fatal Impurity]

Love.

The single emotion that affects and controls the direction of our meanlingless lives. Whether it's the desire to help out of love or whether its the desire to destroy in the name of love depends on the person.


Love destroyed Hiryu's life...that's why he has not been so foolish and quick to make the same mistake again. He's smarter than he was then, he keep's himself detached and concentrated on his goal; to destroy the rebellion. The irony is not lost on him though...even 12 years after his life changed and he outcast the notion of love from his life, the influence and its direction still remains.

Those 12 years ago, that cold lonely night, the night that took his Love and his life away from him. The night in which his mother was MURDERED.

He often contemplates its effect on his existence and how to erase its hold upon him, how to destroy the very thoughts and memories of those he lost...just to save himself from Love.

"Agent Oroboros ID: 3721" He mumbled

The screen flickered and fizzed momentarily whilst authorising his request to be allowed access to HQ.

"Access granted welcome back Hiryu! Please be warned that HQ is currently under full lockdown and all lockdown protocol must be followed"

"By who's order!?" He yelled with renewed vigour.

"Agent Seraphim" The terminal replied in its usual monotone voice.

"Goddamn him! How am I going to follow up on case 64028? There is NO reason for HQ to be under lockdown!"

"You won't. Protocol dictates that all current Level 1 operations be put on hold and the associated Agents be locked in until lockdown has ceased"

He let out an exasperated sigh before the tall steel doors clunked open.

"Seraphim upto his dramatics again no doubt." he thought to himself whilst passing through possesion control.

Such an arrogant fool Seraphim is...although the same is often said about Hiryu. He despises the majority of his peers due not just to their "methods" but also to thier pure mediocrity compared to Hiryu's prestine efficiency and intelligence. He and Seraphim go way back, to before either of them joined the government. He would often see Seraphim around the higher Echelons of society, (when travelling for business with his father) but for what purpose it is not known. Seraphim was always the mysterious guest everyone saw but never knew, everyone loved but never invited. He met and talked to him a few times but took an instant distaste to his parading and obvious facade. Seraphim knew not of decretion lest it be for sinister matters. Hiryu on the other hand was more about ruthless efficiency, perfect discreet execution and indepth planning. Hiryu would often track targets for weeks, even months to get a feel for his prey. By the time came for vaporization he knew the target just as much as thier family, even in some cases better.

This train of thought got Hiryu thinking: "What exactly WAS his business all those years ago?"

 

[Donald Trump]

Paris was annoyed, no, he was pissed off. He venomously spat on the ground, he had been waiting 2 hours, he had deigned to wait, he had waited. He could not believe these so called 'rebels', he sneered as he thought it.
He would go for a walk, stretch his muscles. He would walk around the block. As he began to walk he calmed, it was stupid of him to think the rebels should attack during a time that suited him. As he walked, he recieved a call from a 'friend' about a man with two Deagles who had returned home and then started yelling and screaming. The description he was given stunk of 'agent', but he was obvisously no ordanary agent. He had emotions, he could be manipulated, yes, Paris the benevolent facilatator of revenge. A smile flickered on his lips, but no laughter, not now, he was still annoyed, he wasnt that fickle.

He would wait for, 24 hours he decided, if there was no attack by then, he would introduce himself to 'the wall-puncher', the nickname showed his total lack of respect for anyone he believed to be in bed BB.

He finished his walk, and resumed his waiting. "Come on rebels, Im bored".

 

[DKnight]

“Demon, Sir. Didn’t Drake say that we would enter through the South side of the building.”
Daniel and his party of twenty men hid in the shadows, just forty meters from the main entrance to the Ministry of Love. According to Drakes plan they should not have been anywhere near there, but Daniel knew that the operation would fail if he had followed orders.
“If you want the mission to succeed,” Daniel responded. “Then we have to do this my way. We have to draw the attention of everyone in there before Drake and his men enter. We need the enemy to cluster in one spot and create a distraction. The longer the enemy is distracted the more people we save.”
He peered over at the entrance. There were no guards outside, but that meant nothing. Daniel knew the security system itself would be hard to bypass. He looked back in his memory of where everything was from his time as an agent. Back then he was known as Xion. Surly by now someone else has taken that title.
He turned back to his men and whispered, “Ready your guns and grenades.”
The sound of click, click could be heard all around as they cocked their guns. Daniel put up his hand and began to count down. The moment his hand was in a fist they rushed from where they were hiding.
Three grenades flew at the main entrance and with one large blast it was gone; replace by a gaping hole enough for them all to come in at once.
Daniel led the charge, his gun in his right hand. When they got inside he began shooting a specific spots on the wall where guns were mounted. He was able to disable them all before they could become active.
In a few moments the dust cleared showing no one but Daniel and his men in the room. All but the Demon were confused. They were ready for a firefight but it was not there. Not yet at least.
Then there it was. A loud rumbling sound. The enemy was coming.
“Be ready men. If we die today know we did not die in vain.”
Daniel reloaded his pistol and watched the hall ahead waiting for the first man to show his unlucky face.

 

[AddleBoy]

Akiko broke away from her thoughts when she heard the sound of a woman's voice from behind her.

"Hey are you okay over there?" the voiced asked.

"Hm?" Akiko nonchalantly hummed as she turned to face the unknown speaker. There was a woman standing in the doorway of the rooftop entrance. Akiko was rather surprised that anyone other than her would come up to the roof. She is usually alone for the duration of her stay up here.

The woman who called out to her was a pink-haired beauty clad in black. The pink hair was obviously dyed. After looking at her completely, Akiko noted that the woman had a very young face and was surprisingly tall. The woman stood almost a whole head taller than her, though that wasn't saying much, seeing as how Akiko was pretty short.

"Um.....I'm fine....," Akiko replied. She wasn't sure of the of the woman's intentions or way she had called out to her in the first place. "Is there something wrong?"

 

[Kenpachi]

Silk waited anxiously outside the building, his operative inside scoping it out. As the man had gone in, Silk had thought he had heard a cough in the next doorway, but when he had gone to check it out, no-one had been there.
"Weird," Silk muttered, feeling around under his cloak for the small knives he had concealed and crouching down lower in the darkness. The small pub he was scoping out was in the shadow of the Ministry of Love, but behind it and another building and extremely dingy, therefore usually unworthy of the Agents attention. But they had been stirred up for some days now and he didn't know how to work, without the help of others. He hated that he had to rely on others, but his usual Rebel allies hadn't yet responded to the important email he had sent out, and he was worried about that too.

"It's OK." Said a familiar gruff voice, as a man leaned out of the alleyway scowling up and down the empty darkened street then going back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.
"Thank God," Silk muttered, sliding in behind the man and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Wearing what he was, a black cloak; hood up and gloves and soft-soled boots would have elicited some interest in most pubs in the city, but not here. Even so close to the Agent's control the people here were all cloaked and hooded, all suspicious and at least one would have been an Agent operative.
No Agents though.
When an actual Agent came here, they were often arrogant, always pushy and loud and always, always demanding.

Silk sat down and signaled for a drink, tracing a Rebel insignia casually in the air, a rare insignia, and one only his operatives and contacts knew. He had at least three contacts here, working in this bar, and he had more around the city, but here he was, lying low, hoping that someone had answered his call to meet here, and discuss the horrors and intrigue that he had managed to find out in the hours since he had sent out the email.

 

[Fair_Game]

It was perfect, a single snap-shot of the current lead agent, his sinister red eyes pierced her shivering frame through the computer. Nothing was mentioned about his birth, or his medical history. One name, a code name obviously. Seraphim. A few mission files immediately piqued her curiosity but she knew looking into them would spell her demise. The system was programed to report unauthorized searches into mission information, a single red flag would signal and her own computer would become a live tracking device. It would be only a few moments before they would arrive and cart her off. Shuddering, she grabbed for the mouse for the first time in ages and exited the system. She gasped wildly for a second, contemplating the trouble she could get in and wiped her right hand against her sweat soaked forehead. The dust from the unused mouse smudged on her skin.

Returning to work kept her mind occupied, which she was thankful for. If she dared contemplate the meaning of some of the horrors recounted in Seraphim's missions, she would likely give herself away as a hacker. Hacking was probably punishable as treason. Her father spoke of treason being a direct trip to Room 101, for the longest of time this was hell for her. He described ghastly things, unspeakable things, cruel things. But how could he know? He knew now, but it was only because he was dead, oh well.

Her father's death happened when she was very young and hadn't much affected her. The only thing he left her was an old guitar and a drinking habit. Oh well.

The elevator doors dinged again unexpectedly, and a large, muscular officer stepped out. 'Someone likely getting taken in for conspiricy,' she thought absentmindedly as the large man marched straight for Project Manager Grosso's office. A light commotion ensued, but Shauna thought nothing of it. Maybe they had discovered his uselessness. Finally.

Suddenly the door's burst open and Grosso's fat head poked out, sweat drizzling down its enflamed pigmentation. He pointed a single fat finger at Shauna and slammed the door shut. Shauna's lungs abruptly lept to her throat.

Oh god...they know!

The large man paced unwaveringly to her desk and stopped. He smelled like a large wet bear. Standing a lingering moment, and Shauna heaving at pre-tears, he finally dropped his menacing stare that had beamed through the back of her head. And lightly, placed a single scrap of paper on her desk.

'This is it,' she thought, 'This is how I go?!' her trembling hand reached over to the note and started to pick it up. As she pulled it closer to her she turned it over. Blank. Blank? Blank!?

"Ms. Shauna Cartridge? Officer Ramsey, I'm here to escort you to what is sure to be the," he cleared his throat, "Highlight of your day." Her eyes slowly shifted to meet his, she understood. Quickly she opened her side drawer and pulled out her purse and a single highlighter. Coded message? Could it be?

Quietly, she gathered her remaining personal affects and followed Officer Ramsey to the elevators. The doors swung open and she stepped into the elevator, clutching her purse tightly. Sharing elevators made her very uncomfortable, although Officer Ramsey was possitively a good guy, you can only tell the true color's of a man when the lights go off. The elevator shook and started raising, it felt like a dream. Shauna was being taken UP instead of down? What did it mean?

The elevator slammed to a halt and the doors swung open. Ramsey grinned and started to place a single hand on Shauna's back, she winced. Here it comes... But it didn't come, the muscular officer just shoved her out of the elevator.

"This is as far as I am authorized Ms., Welcome to your new office." The doors slammed shut leaving Shauna completely alone.

"*Gasp* Tha....Thank you," she squeaked. The floors were marble, she counted the tiles. '1...2...3...4'

There was only one door down the long hallway and she timidly raised a hand to knock. A short burst of quick raps and she patiently waited for a response. A minute passed. Deciding to try the handle she found it surprizingly unlocked!

"E...ahem...Excuse..." but her voice stopped working. The office she stood in was huge, Large monitors lined the walls, computer systems all flicked on the instant she walked into the room, the OS of each individual machine spooled up and booted without the glitz and glamour of a 'friendly' computer. These were machines, meant to do heavy work. She sheepishly walked over to the nearest one and set down her things. These machines, were the Governments best. Professional grade.

Her highlighter fell from her hand and she finally remembered the note. Curiously she popped the pen open and scribbled across both sides of the note. A message appeared that caused her to almost cry out in surprize.

"A promotion?!"

 

[Death Stalker]

"so what are you doing up here then"Black Rose asks kindly, Black Rose suddenly remembered her fear of hights and started to white out, so she stumbled over to a ledge and sat down, that was when she recieved a call from Odin saying to get back to the hotel they had to move on to the next hotel. So slowly edging towards the door she said to the stranger "Sorry i gotta go now"so with that she heaved open the huge door and started down the steps, wondering where Odin and her where gonna stay next.

 

[Contra Fates]

“…What did you just call me?!” Yukio’s jaw was slacked, and he was instantly insulted by the more vocal, and evidently, playful of the two. His golden brows were knit at the middle, his displeasure made evident as the other dared to call him a…cow?! Yukio was a slim Japanese man, and found himself quite perplexed at the thought of being called a ‘cow.’ Yukio’s bright eyes would shift to the car that Dante had alerted him to…which now, was no longer there. Yukio gave a sigh of relief, before his eyebrow twitched, and he was reminded of what that punk had just called him.<o></o>

“…I am not a pin-striped cow! I’m not even fat! This coat just makes me look a little heavier..!” How quick he was to defend himself! An obvious action to be taken by a man so in love with himself. His hands were reluctantly placed on the outer lining of his coat, and in a swift motion, he held open his coat, revealing what lay beneath it. …He was a walking weapon shop. The underside of his thick, ‘elegant’ coat was lined with various knives, thin blades, vials of some sort of greenish and blue liquids, what appeared to be grenades, and guns of different sizes and variety. ….He could be a one-manned rebellion with that sort of contraband!<o></o>

“…See? I told you…!” Yukio seemed somewhat satisfied, his irritated nerve settling down, if only slightly. He lowered his hands, and pat down his weapon-ridden coat. He glanced between the two of them, before drawing out two slips of paper and handing it to them. “I’ll be sure to put that beer-tab on an I.O.U. I have to go, but that card gives you the location of my home, and the contact number of one of my Servants. I’m going to have to lie low for a while, if I really was being tailed, but, you’re more than welcome to my home. For now, I’ve been granted immunity from the government for my royal status, so…I intend to use that to my advantage for as long as I can. Apologies for the sudden leave, but, I’m sure you’ll know how to find me, if you so felt the need to.”<o></o>

With that said, Yukio would offer the two a brief wave of his hand, in obvious dismissal. Afterwards, he would begin heading in the direction of his home, alarmed by the rising of the sun. Crap. He’d better get back to the Mansion before Ansell had an aneurysm. An hour would pass before he would near the area of his home, his thoughts primarily filled with a childish annoyance for having been called a ‘pin-striped cow.’ What lunacy!<o></o>

Yet, there was something that yanked him from his self-absorbed stupor. Music. It was music with an outlandish upbeat, joyous tune. It lifted his spirits, almost immediately. He glanced around for the source of the music, and finally found it’s source. There was a child, and a monkey, performing for a small audience. Yukio had to further inspect this duo, and did so. As he approached the two, his eyes had immediately taken notice of their seemingly malnourished appearances, and the poor girl’s dirty appearance. The dear little thing was in tattered rags for crying out loud! Yukio was instantly moved by them, and as he approached, his golden-hair and white attire bathed in the rising sunlight of the day, he would reach a hand into his pocket…and retrieve a sack of golden coins that was to be given to one of the Rebels he was supposed to have met with the previous night. He stepped closer to the duo, smiling with a warmth that was rarely seen from the selfish princeling in pristine clothing. He nodded his head in appreciative respect, and placed the rather heavy sack of golden coins into the monkey’s top hat. “…I hope this is of assistance.” Of course, Yukio was unaware of the child’s inability to hear, and was even more so ignorant to the fact that the monkey was a highly intelligent creature.<o></o>

After Yukio had done his ‘good deed’ for the day, he would step back from them, offering one last smile, before he’d turn on a heel and begin to slowly walk away. Yet, his pace was slow enough to be chased after, should one of the duo decide to further inspect the lengths of Yukio’s kindness and seemingly endless generosity.<o></o>

<o>

</o>​

“Hehe, just stand back and watch me play!” Gabriel stood back, cracking his neck and pounding his fists together, as he began to psych himself up for the slightly alcohol-induced fight that was about to occur. Gabriel’s feet were already dancing about upon the floor of the bar, and it was obvious by his tall opponent’s expression that he was not amused. “I’ll rip you limb from limb you arrogant little shit.” Gabriel laughed in response to the brute’s words, and just waited…for the right moment to strike. And there it was. The bartender, seemingly in the business for the sake of watching a good bar brawl every now and then, held up a large glass mug…which he dropped. It shattered upon the ground.<o></o>

Bingo! Gabriel’s fist was sent forth, connecting with the man’s jaw and leaving him momentarily stunned. Gabriel did not give him any time to react, as his fists began to repeatedly pummel into his stomach, moving at quite an impressive speed for someone who was relatively intoxicated. The giant was eventually pushed back, his feet sliding against the floor as Gabriel continued his fast-paced assault. Gabriel finally paused in his fist-throwing attacks, and the man, still dazed, tried to read for him. Gabriel grinned, and leaned forward as the other did. His arm shot upward, fist connecting with the bottom of the man’s jaw is a teeth-chipping uppercut. The man went flying, and fell back upon the ground, eyes wide and jaw gaping, mouth bleeding.<o></o>

“How do ya like me now, big guy?!” Gabriel was just eating this up! This is what he truly lived for…to feel alive amidst a fight..no matter how pointless and random it may be. Before Gabriel would hear any sort of response, one of the other goons would lunge at Gabriel, an arm wrapped around his neck in a headlock. Oh, son of a bitch! “…You fight well for a girl!” The man grinned, his breath smelling of the foul odor of alcohol, as a hand trailed up to Gabriel’s hair. “'Ey! Lay. Off. The. Hair!” Gabriel grabbed the man’s arms, and in one swift motion, would throw his body downward, tossing the man right over him, and onto the downed giant. That left only one.<o></o>

Gabriel glanced around the bar for the man who had originally picked the fight, for he was the catalyst of this whole mess of masculine-mayhem. And there he was, a coward, trying to exit the bar without so much as a fist in his face! Hah! Another infuriating chuckle was elicited from Gabriel’s throat, as he grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and whirled him around in a semi-circle…which ended in his face making contact with the bar counter. “For having such a big mouth, you sure don’t provide the goods, do you?” Gabriel forced the man’s face further into the counter’s top, scrunching his face like a fish. “I’m very disappointed. I thought I’d have more fun with you guys, but you’re all too drunk to stand, let alone fight.”<o></o>

Gabriel sighed, a hand grabbing the man’s hair before he would find himself yanked backwards, and spun around to face the red-haired man he had offended. “I believe you have something to say to this man.” “…Fuck…you.” Gabriel shook his head, another sigh, before he slammed the man’s face against the counter once more, allowing for a resounding crack of nasal bone. He’d be yanked back to face Rill, blood dripping from his nose. “Let’s try that again. What do you have to say?” “…” “…Damn, you’re a stupid one.” Gabriel, instead of further damaging the man’s face, would force a fist against the man’s kidney. Ouch.<o></o>

“Now…I’m giving you one last chance before I start snapping fingers.” The man was beyond dazed, his eyes glazed, the coppery taste of blood apparent in his mouth, and his nose and torso paining him, greatly. “….I’m….sorry…” Gabriel would grin with mischievous triumph, before he’d toss the man aside, dusting off his hands afterward, and promptly exiting the bar. Should Rill wish to approach him, he would have the opportunity now, as he walked outside of the Pub. …This Gabriel certainly was a pistol, wasn’t he?<o></o>

<o>

</o>​

Seraphim would walk back to the head of the table, his eyes hovering over Saint for the briefest moment. His eyes narrowed, briefly resembling the appearing of daggers, as if Saint had been so readily exposed to Seraphim, despite his assumed preservation of his thoughts. After Saint spoke of his ‘call to Russia,’ Seraphim merely nodded, despite knowledge of the crock that was. “…Of course. I’ll anticipate your return, Agent Saint. Take care of yourself.” Quite the surprisingly warm words to be spoken by the demon-eyed Agent. Seraphim wasn’t always a cold, heartless bastard…yet whenever he did speak in a lighter-manner, it was frowned upon as mere trickery. Perhaps that’s all it was, after all.
<o></o>
After Saint had left the room, Seraphim would place his earpiece on his left ear, the microphone already wired onto the collar of his shirt. This system of communication allowed for Seraphim’s words to reach every Agent and Security Officer, yet avoided being heard elsewhere. The other workers within the facility, and the prisoners would hear nothing. Only those wearing their mandated earpieces would receive the orders. Seraphim lifted his arm, glancing at his watch with expectant eyes. Any second now…<o></o>

…Boom!<o></o>

The 13^th floor would feel nothing but a mere shaking and rattling, brought on the explosion in the lobby, due to those hellbent-on-dying-Rebels. It was time for Seraphim to step up, and show just why he was the one who answered directly to Big Brother.
<o></o>
“Cut the power in this facility. I want every light taken out, even the emergency ones. I want all of the Officers and Agents to use their heat-vision equipment, be it the latest model of shades or the older goggle-models. These Rebels aren’t well equipped, all they have is bravery and adrenaline. They’ll be wanting to take out as many Officers and Agents as they can. I also suspect that their goal is to free some of their comrades from the holding block near Room 101. Use whatever smoke bombs you can, and turn on the various fog machines scattered throughout the lower floors. The louder the explosions of the smoke bombs, the better. I want these Rebels deaf and dumb, as blind as justice itself.”<o></o>

Seraphim would pause, glancing at the remaining Agents within that 13^th floor conference room. He would end his Ministry-wide communication link, turning his attention to those gathered at this table…The Knights of the Round, if you will. “If any of you wish to, you’re more than welcome to explore the happenings on the lower floors, but I’d recommend having the proper equipment in order to see in the dark.”<o></o> And as if on cue, the lights would go out, coating the room in darkness.
Yet, within the inky blackness…one could swear that the only thing visible…was a pair of glowing red eyes. ..Belonging to none other than Seraphim himself. “…Let the games begin.”

 

[Kenpachi]

EDIT: One man rebellions don't work, nor do two. My gathering of help should make a start on a true Rebellion effort...

Waiting was boring to Silk, so he pulled out his laptop and began to type, sending an email to a bunch of Rebel allies, chiefly among them, one he had never personally met, one who had been recommended by a fellow contact, a man named Mamoru.

The message went like this.

My name is Silk, a chief assassin for the Rebellion.
Due to disconcerting news I have recently gathered about the Ministry of Love, I am sending out this call to any and all Rebels who will receive it.
We need to discuss these circumstances urgently, and I pray that you will meet me now.
I am currently residing in the Old Flag, a small tavern one block from the South side of the Ministry of Love. When you get there, I will be the man at the table closest to the fire.
Please, meet me soon, as recently many Rebels have disappeared mysteriously and we must discuss these events.
Again, I beg of you, meet me here.
For any proof that is needed as to my identity, my Rebel code is 85267988G and the name of the Lower Leader is Charlie Bravo Eight.
You must trace the Rebel insignia on the table when you sit to meet me though, to prove your alliances. The true insignia, not the one the Agent's know.
We must meet soon.

Silk sat back and then wiped his laptop's email memory. Looking around the bar he nodded and the barman ushered out everyone who was not one of Silk's confidants, leaving two other patrons, another barman and the two bouncers.
Now, all Silk had to do, was wait.

 

[Nami]

Jack and Nimble watched as a blonde-haired man deposited a large sack of money into Jack's hat. “I hope this is of assistance,” Nimble saw the man say. Neither Jack nor Nimble had to count it to see that it was the largest sum of money anyone had ever given them. Jack grew excited. Nimble, however, grew angry.

"Look, Nimble!" Jack tossed the bag of coins to Nimble. "Do you realize how many burgers we can buy with that money?!" Jack began to drool.

Nimble was temporarily distracted from her anger to reply to Jack. "I still don't understand how a monkey can eat cow... that's disturbing." Nimble nearly smiled, but then the weight of the sack of money called her attention back to the matter at hand. "Jack... you know that everything in this world comes at a price."

"Yeah, the place up the street is selling 5 burgers for one gold coin."

"Damnit, Jack! Pay attention. We have to give this money back."

"What? Are you crazy? Why?"

"That guy is probably either an Agent or a Rebel. I doubt he gave us this money out of the kindness of his heart."

"But what if he did?" Jack was thinking of a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, tomatoes, and cheese. "Geez, Nimble... you worry too much."

"Take the money back to him."

"But we can't make this kind of money in a short time. We can use this money to" Jack huddled closer to Nimble so that only she could see what he would sign next "leave this country."

"If we tried that, we might run the risk of being hunted down and killed. It's better to be poor than dead, Jack."

With an air of finality, Nimble pulled out the notebook she normally used to communicate with people... and a pen. She hoped the man could read. She wrote a note, folded it neatly, and gave both the note and the sack of money to Jack. The note read:

We can not accept this. Thank you.

Jack took the note and the sack of money begrudgingly. "What's the difference between accepting this money and stealing it?"

"We steal only from those who need to be stolen from."

"But he's giving us this money willfully!"

"It has strings attached! I'm not taking any chances. End of discussion." Moodily, Jack ran up to the blonde-haired man. Jack hadn't had a cheeseburger in a very, very long time. When he caught up the the man, he tugged at the man's elaborate coat. He held up the money and the note for the man to accept.

 

[Death Stalker]

Black Rose had only just sat down when they recieved a call from the ministry that it was under attack by rebels, Black Rose only had mere seconds to rest after sprinting back to the hotel before she had to get back out of her comfy seat and make her way back down the 30 odd flights of stairs due to the poxy elevator being broken.
After 5 minutes Black Rose and Odin where on the ground floor,"go to the car park, and wait for me their" Odin spat at her obviously in a hurry to get there for some action."Do I have to Brother" Black Rpse moaned,"Dont call me that while were on duty, and go wait in the carpark" Odin growled at Black Rose,Odin then turned towards the front desk and walked over towards it and asked the lady for the carkeys numbered 5496,of course this wasnt his car but he had been eyeing the lambourghini up for the whole time they had been staying at the hotel.
After recieving the keys Odin sprinted towards the door marked car park.
Where he ran towards Black Rose and said "guess what were driving" as Odin pushed the electronic bleeper to unlock the car, "No way,how did you get the keys to that" Black Rose asked confused,"it doesnt matter at the moment, what matters is that our fellow agents could be in trouble".With that all that could be heard was the revving of an engine and the screech of tires as the took off at great speed towards the ministry.

When the finally arrived they saw the looby had been bombed and several rebels on guard, but there was something wrong the glow of the lights at the ministry was gone someone or something had cut the lights. What the fuck" Black Rose yelled as the exited the lambo neatly parked up onto the curb in front of the ministry incase of a quick getaway being needed.Odin readied
his weapons and cocked them ready to shoot on sight and Black Rose pulled on her fighting gloves, and also putting in the earpieces they were required to wear on the job,as they do so they hear a voice they know well but dont trust that much barking orders over the his own earpiece.Seraphim. Before Odin had a chance to stop Black Rose she had already charged the left flank of the lobby and was in hand to hand combat with a rather chubby looking rebel. He however was going to try and get in touch with Seraphim and try to figure out why he had cut the lights. "Come in Seraphim I repeat come in Seraphim" Odin looked up to see a rebel holding a rather lethal looking shotgun sneaking up on Black Rose *BANG* the rebel slumped to the floor with a neat hole in his neck. "Seraphim if you can hear me answer me".

Something or someone had caught Odins attention as one of the rebels turned around he noticed that the person he had noticed was Daniel Carter a former Agent turned rebel, Odin took aim at his leg only to wound him no to kill Daniel, "why doesnt my prey ever stay still", as he slowly squeezed the trigger then *BLAM* *BLAM* *blam* *blam* Odin had let of no less then four bullets in the direction of Daniel and he didnt expect all of them to hit but atleast one to wound him for a feed. Odin had been longing for blood for a while now, his last feed was two months ago in the USA on a mission out there.

 

[Contra Fates]

Yukio paused for a moment, tossing a sidelong glance back at the young girl and the monkey. ...Were they...were they signing to one another? Yukio squinted his eyes just slightly, trying to pick up on the tidbits of conversation that he could. They were signing too fast for Yukio to effectively read up on it. It had been years since Yukio used any form of sign language, but, as a privelaged young man, he was given a proper, and extensive education.

He shrugged it off for now, and began to walk away, at a slightly quicker pace, as if he realized that they'd try to give him the money back. And lo and behold, that monkey had indeed rushed up to him, and tugged on his clothing, the money and a note in hand. Yukio picked up the slip of paper and read it, eyes widening slightly, and a frown ever-present on his face. He snatched up the sack of money and, perhaps to the girl and monkey's surprise, marched right back to her. He placed the money before her serinette, before taking a single step back, and staring at the girl, gathering himself and his thoughts...before he'd begin to make motions with his hands.

And those motions? He was signing to her. "I gave you this money. Please keep it." Yukio's motions were rather slow, and it was obvious that he had not practiced this form of language in quite some time. Yet, perhaps it would impressive in itself that he even knew how to sign. "Buy some food. Buy new clothes. Get a room in a hotel and wash yourselves." Yukio's signing was coming a bit faster, attributed to either his sincerity or perhaps his returning familiarity with the language. "I would even offer you two my own home for shelter, if for no other reason than to see to it you are well fed and clean." With such words and actions like that, it was no wonder Nimble was skeptical!

It finally dawned on Yukio, that perhaps she was afraid he was a Rebel or an Agent, and that the money was bad money. He chuckled softly, and leaned back, before continuing to sign. "My name is Tokugawa Yukio, I'm the last of the Samurai Royal Family. I promise you, no harm will come to you if you accept this money." He paused, grinning. "But you will face my wrath if you do not accept my donation."

​

Seraphim's eyes flashed with a brief moment of recognition, as he heard Agent Black Rose calling for him. Ah, her and Odin must be having fun with their bout of human-target practice. "Seraphim here, what is it, Black Rose?" Seraphim would listen intently to whatever the Agent had to say.

Afterward, he would open up another Agent and Officer-wide communication link. "I sense movement of a couple of Rebels, who seem unhindered by the darkness. Turn up the heat on floors 1-5, and continue using the smoke bombs and fog machines. The hotter temperature will distort the heat-seeking equipment, which I expect the Rebels have gotten their hands on. I want all Agents and Officers to remain still until my cue, so that the only movement is from the Rebels themselves. On my cue, I want the power to be brought back on, and CS and CN tear gases to be released on the floors I specify once I hone in on these Rebels and their location. Be silent and still for now. The only Government-related movements I want to detect will be from the few Officers that will be making the temperature considerably warmer, and restoring the power and lights when I say so. That is all for now." The connection was severed, and Seraphim's dimly glowing eyes could be seen as he walked towards the exit of the Conference room.

How...did he do it? Was his mind truly just a labyrinth of mental maps and minds being invaded, thoughts read, and information processed...all at blinding speeds? Agent Spectre's thoughts on there being much more to Seraphim than meets the eye...couldn't have been more true. He was Big Brother's curent greatest asset for a damned good reason.

​

 

[toyohisa]

Mamoru grinned toward the narcissist, idly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand before the youth turned away from the pristine fellow, studying the dirty and grimy surroundings. Green oculi shifted back to the blond haired man after he responded about his nickname of Cow-kun. A skeptical tilt of the head followed, his left eye closing while contemplating a better nickname. Scratching his chin, his gaze dropped to the floor below, then shot back upward toward the Cow.

"Oh, I have an even better nickname for you, Cow-kun! I'll call you Lambo-kun instead! You dress like a cow, you have a unique attitude, and you have weapons out the ass! Lammbooo-kuuuun!"

The young man didn't seem to be fazed by the revelation in the slightest; in fact, it even contributed to an even more insulting moniker for the male. Reaching deep into his pocket, digits wrapped around another piece of azure licorice, lifting it to his visage before biting down on the tip of the sweet candy. Tapping his foot idly against the ground, he took the slip of paper from his "acquaintance " He was disappointed at the lack of free alcohol, but the promise of being able to stay at a delightful place was more than enough to make up for it. Slipping it into his breast pocket, he conveniently ignored the talk about government, royalty, and the immunities the blond received.

"All right! See you later, Lambo-kun!"

He was sure that only fans of the popular manga and anime "Kateikyoshi Hitman Reborn!" would get the reference.

Departing in a different direction from the cow-man, the youth idly chewed on the licorice, eyes attempting to lazily take in the importance of the surroundings. Withdrawing a coin from his pocket, he flipped it up into the air and caught it on the descent, spitting out beats like his name was Grandmaster Faux. Whether he intended on it or not, he found himself rapidly approaching the Ministry of Love, but a vibration in his pocket caught his attention. Tossing the coin to the ground, he flipped open his cell phone and navigated the menus until a new, flashing email presented itself to him.

"Open me! Open me! Open me bitch!"

Lips curled into a frown at the vulgar plea from the digitized mail, but he forced himself through the mental anguish and opened the letter. His brow arched in response, initially predisposed to consider the email a hoax, thumb pressing against the directional keys on the small, illuminated number pad. Highlighting the delete option, a small, specific detail caught his eye; the rebel code and the mention of "Charlie Bravo Eight."

If they wanted something unique, they definitely had one. His physique was standing nearby the Ministry of Love when he finished reading, a sideways glance spared to the building. Running a hand through his hair, the mercenary gave a look around, smiling big and bright for anyone standing around. Throwing his hands into the air, the young man jumped up and down, exclaiming his love for Big Brother. It only looked right, didn't it? However, at the end of his fourth jump, he landed on his heel and spun to face the opposite direction, giving a loving wave toward the building.

Without wasting any more time than he already had, Mamoru made his way to the Old Flag tavern, biting off another piece of the azure candy. The sweet sensation never failed to overcome his taste buds, but that wasn't anything close to important at the moment, now was it? Pushing his way entire the establishment, he allowed his eyes to wander until he found the aforementioned table, pushing past any inhabitants that might have been in his way. Plopping down in a chair next to the man, the man grinned and flashed him a peace sign, his other hand falling to the table. The tip of his fingernail pressed against the material, indiscreetly tracing the insignia the man had kindly asked for.

"Ah, wouldn't you say today is the best day to get drunk and relax? Man, I've got all I need to have the best time -- My books, my candy, and not to mention the alcohol! Now, who could forget that?"

He hoped outward appearances didn't faze and lead the man astray in his thoughts of his fellow rebel.

 

[Kenpachi]

Silk merely sat and continued what he was doing; playing cards.
Initially, the cards began slowly, with Silk dealing ten cards to four different placements, three to the middle, then he would withdraw them, shuffle them and re-deal. Slowly, he began to get faster and faster until the cards seemed to be blurring around the table.
Suddenly, he stopped, the cards sitting in piles of ten, three in the middle, and he motioned for the other man to pick his up.
"Its always better to get drunk over a friendly game of cards, wouldn't you say friend?" he asked, picking up and arranging his cards with one hand, while casually tracing the same insignia back.
"What's more," he said, signalling for two shots to be placed down, "I find its always better to get drunk with friends, so hopefully more will join us soon. Do you know how to play 500?"
He looked the man straight in the eyes as he casually placed a small slip of paper in front of him, on his untouched cards.
"If not, you may want to read the rules first. I find it helps."
The slip of paper had a printout of the dead informant's information on the Ministry of Love, and all the information Silk had on the Ministry and its defences. At the end, one small instruction ended it.

Once read,

it said

destroy this. Memorise it.

Sitting back, he fanned out his cards and began to look over them.
"Not a bad hand." he muttered, hoping the other man got the idea.

 

[Nami]

Nimble watched as the man read the note. She swore inwardly as the man marched right back up to her. Then, the man did something she certainly would have never guessed: He signed to her. He used her language. Nimble had a difficult time keeping a blank face as he signed, "I gave you this money. Please keep it. Buy some food. Buy new clothes. Get a room in a hotel and wash yourselves. I would even offer you two my own home for shelter, if for no other reason than to see to it you are well fed and clean." This day was full of surprises. Nimble liked to be well-prepared. However, she did not know how to react to this particular surprise. Emotions rose within her ranging from excitement to fear to loneliness to curiosity to awe. She resigned to simply staring at the man slack-jawed. This man... knows my language, was the prevalent thought Nimble had. Jack was also surprised. He grinned with pleasure. Jack loved to have people to interact with.

The blonde-haired man wasn't fluent in Sign, but it was enough for him to communicate. "My name is Tokugawa Yukio, I'm the last of the Samurai Royal Family. I promise you, no harm will come to you if you accept this money." He paused, grinning. "But you will face my wrath if you do not accept my donation." Nimble was flustered... and visibly so. Questions raced through her mind. Is this man Deaf? Is his family Deaf? How did he learn Sign? Nimble felt more exposed than she ever had been in front of the cameras. She had been foolishly relying on hearing people's lack of understanding of Deaf culture. Now, here before her, was a man who was apparently hearing, yet knew Sign. This was a phenomenon that captured her interest more than even impending doom. "T-o-k-u-g-a-w-a Y-u-k-i-o..." Nimble spelled to herself as if to remember. The man had introduced himself without a name sign. For now, she would assume he was, indeed, hearing. "I'm N-i-m-b-l-e R-o-c-a-n-c-o-u-r-t." Then Nimble showed him her name sign. She pointed to Jack, then said "This is J-a-c-k R-o-c-a-n-c-o-u-r-t." She did his name sign, which resembled the sign for "tease". "Um... I don't know who my family is. They're dead," Nimble said calmly. It wasn't something that hurt her feelings, it was simply fact.

Jack cut the introductions short. "Hey blonde-hair, do you have cheeseburgers at your house?" Nimble's face became flushed and she tugged Jack's tail as discreetly as she could. She smiled as sweetly as she could (she was always terrible with forced smiles), then huddled with Jack in the huddle they typically used when they didn't want the cameras to see them.

"What? He said we can go to his house for shelter."

Nimble wanted to say, No, we don't know this man. However, she no longer cared so much about whether he was an Agent or a Rebel. Perhaps his goal was to kill them. Either way, she had to learn more about this guy. "Jack, we can't just waltz into this guy's house..." Jack saw the indecision in her face, however. Nimble knew he saw it. "I'm not going to ask him for shelter, Jack." Jack nodded in understanding. They broke their brief huddle.

Jack looked at Yukio. "Hey Mr. Blonde-hair, are you serious about letting us come to your place for the night?" Nimble had a sudden realization. The man was able to sign ok, but what if he had trouble understanding the signs? Nimble grabbed her notebook and pen. She opened the notebook to an empty page and wrote something down for him to read. She wanted him to understand well what she had to say.

Thank you. You been very kind. Please let me know what I can do for you. If you like our performance we can perform in your home. We can be servants too. I can cook and clean ok.

Nimble showed Yukio what she had written and set aside the pen and paper. Nimble hoped he would reply in sign, but she didn't mind if he replied with pen and paper.

 

[toyohisa]

Green oculi watched the blurringly swift movements of his acquaintances hand, index finger tapping against the smooth material of the table. His gaze momentarily shifted from the man to the tavern, giving the surroundings a quick look; he never knew when, or where, the agents would show up, and the fact that his privacy was at stake was a truly frustrating feeling. Snarling, he returned his attention to the man, nodding kindly as he picked up the ten cards and the slip of paper.

"Of course it is. The only true joy in getting wasted is when you're around a good friend, right?"

Adjusting his cards singlehandly, dexterous digits effortlessly managed to multitask; with his middle and ring finger he adjusted the order of the cards, and with his thumb, index, and pinky he managed to open the slip of paper and absorb its contents into his memory. His facial expressions visibly changed; the contents of that note had him more than worried.

"..oi, according to this, my hand sucks."

With a fake show of despair, he withdrew a lighter from his other breast pocket and struck a flame, sitting fire to the note. Before it the flame reached his fingertips, Mamoru stuck it to the shot glass and set the surface of the alcohol aflame, pressing the palm of his hand down onto the fire to extinguish it. Picking it up and downing the shot, as well as the ashes that mixed with the drink, he slammed the glass back onto the table.

"To be honest, I'm more fond of blackjack than I am 500. This game hates me, man, I swear."

 

[Kenpachi]

"Haha, that may be, that may be."
Silk could see that the note had worried the man, and he nodded briefly and held out his hands for the cards that Mamoru had, returning them to the deck and shuffling quickly, dealing out the cards again. He checked his, a ten and a Jack, not bad. However, Silk was extremely fond of gambling, and was a reknowned cheat, and had counted the cards from the start, and knew what Mamoru had too. An Ace and a Jack.

"Still," he went on, downing his shot and motioning for two more, "getting drunk is much funner with more company. Do you know if any of our other friends are coming for our little party?"
He looked around then pulled out a second slip of paper.
"Here's the invite I sent out," he said furtively, passing it to Mamoru, "and I hope its well worded, what do you think?"

This piece of paper was more detailed, a building plan of the first eleven floors of the Ministry of Love and highly detailed, including where Agent's were stationed and, most crucially, where Room 101 was.
"You can keep that," he added, "keep it, it might be useful for further get-togethers."
Looking around, he dropped the fake-voice he had assumed and laughed quietly.
"You don't have to worry about privacy here," he said, sounding faintly relieved, "not for another hour at least. That red light there," he pointed to a small corner where a white device was stationed, "indicates when the Agents are scanning this section, every half-hour. So we can talk, but quickly."
He looked at the other patrons who nodded and took up positions around the bar.
"This place is one of my Rebel hideouts, useable for all Rebels but not generally known," he said quickly, "and dangerous, being so close to the Ministry of Love. We need to discuss that information," he gestured to the remainders of ashes in Mamoru's last glass, "and the recent attack, not even two hours ago. We need to be organized if we do anything at all."