CROWNLESS (IC)

[Kirby]

April 16, 2090

EGLANTINE & ARBALEST
Afternoon
Atlas Telamon

The Fifth King never shows its face.

It controls all, and oversees all, but not once have you seen the King itself— whatever it’s really supposed to be. You’d think that working here all this time, you’d have seen it at least once by now. That’s the first thing that comes to your mind, as you stand here in the elevator, the flickers of light from floors passed by visible from the grate. Four figures stand sentinel as you approach the heart of the Atlas, no sound but the hum of the lift.

The four of you are only vaguely familiar with each other, archival data flickering across your vision showing that you all are agents of the Sector. EGLANTINE, a spy and newer face at the Sector. ARBALEST, a Old World unit that survived the War. BALMUNG, a former military unit from a Noble family. ASCLEPIUS, a lab-rat shut-in turned combat medic. From the files, the two of them should be more familiar with each other than you with them, having worked in another unit before. You exchange glances, and BALMUNG shrugs, a half-smile, an expression of well, what can you do?

The lift grinds to a stop, and the doors open to a vast room, relatively empty save for the desk on the far end, walls on either end adorned with screens flickering with surveillance feeds and streams of data. The vast wall opposite of you have a clear view of the city, the endless night-life of the Lower Alexandria below. Sitting silently by the end, watching the city, she waits.

DOMINION. She who oversees the duties of the Sector Knights.

One of the nine Knights of the Angelic Order. Where the Fifth remained in the shadows, these nine acted in its place.

“I suppose you all know why you’re here?”

“I’ll skip the pleasantries.” She motioned to the screens, and images appeared. Maps of a Lower Alexandria district, faces and profiles of varied figures, activity logs, documents and briefings of previous cases. Among the verbiage you recognize key words— Harvesters. Arms Trafficking. Missing In Action. Crownless King.

“This is a case I’ll have you taking over. Normally, such a thing would be left to the police, but things have changed.” Two profiles appeared on screen, displaying two names. One, James Langley. The other, KHAMSIN. “Originally, this was just an ordinary case on human and arms trafficking, headed by the prefecture police. However, one of the investigators on the case— an unafflicted human— disappeared.”

You feel a ping in your cyberbrain, a file received, archives detailing the case available for you to review at your leisure.

She frowned. “Even then normally, this wouldn’t be as much of a concern, until one of our own agents decided to investigate the case on her own.” She brought up activity logs, showing accesses to the police database by the esper on the profile, KHAMSIN. “We allowed this, so long as it did not interfere with her normal duties, but she, too, disappeared.”

“This was a week ago.”

“Three days ago, we began detecting Crest activity that corresponded to her signature, out in the outskirts of Lower Alexandria. Territory known to be inhabited by a gang of Harvesters. Thus,” she says, steepling her fingers, “your mission. Infiltrate the compound. Investigate whatever business they’re conducting there. Find out what happened to KHAMSIN. And, if need be…”

She closes her eyes, as if meditating. “...If she’s turned on us, kill her.”

She ends in silence, looking over the four of you.

“Any questions?”


LILITH & 2D
Afternoon
The Madame’s Estabilshment

“Harvesting’s a competitive market, Königsmann.”

The Madame is speaking to you again, legs propped up at her desk, a drink in hand. She does this sometimes; just launches into speeches and lectures on the business of the underworld. Perhaps it makes her feel superior, to impart her ‘wisdom’ to those under her care, as if she were wisened, or experienced, a real master of her trade. Whatever the reason, LILITH’s used to it, and listens— or pretends to, at the very at least.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s legal or illegal, business is a cutthroat thing. Competitors crawling out from every corner. Everyone with a smile plastered on their face like a mask, a dagger behind their back. One day’s ally might be the next day’s backstabbing, lying, double-crossing son-of-a-bitch.” She grimaced, lips pulled back into a snarl. “Disgusting. I tried being reasonable, but it looks like some shit-for-brains think they can just take advantage of my generosity.”

She looks up from her glass, at LILITH. An expression of irritation and anger. “I’m a generous person, aren’t I?”

She also likes to ask questions you’re not supposed to answer.

“That’s right!” she says, without waiting for a response. “And do you know what people get when they trample on my goodwill?”

She pauses, a silence that lasts a second, two seconds, begins to stretch. It seems like she actually expected someone to answer this one.

An uneasy silence settles into the room. You look around, at the others.

The room itself resembles a dimly lit office, desks and all, two couches seated around a coffee table. One man lies sprawled out on one of the couches, bleary-eyed and struggling not to fall asleep. A girl sits hunched over at one of the desks, fiddling with a few screens as she listens. A few more of the Madame’s attack dogs. Given her rant, and the company, you can guess why you’re here.

Monitors hang up on the walls, most of it details of transactions and logs and the like, and one stands out in particular. The image of an unassuming man in a suit, and his accompanying profile and transaction history. A man named Mr. Baldwin.

A business partner— former business partner, if the Madame’s temper was anything to go by— in the arms industry, who bought Crests off her group for the manufacture of Crested weaponry. While you aren’t too well-informed about her affairs in the Harvesting business, you remember some rumors

You have a good suspicion on what your next job might be.

She glares about the room, seemingly still looking for an answer. “Well!?”

The man on the couch starts at that; he actually began to doze off. He gets up, rubbing his eyes, and blearily looks about the room. His gaze stops, as he squints, mouth slightly ajar. You follow his gaze to the corner of a room, staring at an unfamiliar face. He furrows his brow.

“Who the hell’s this guy?”


VIDOFNIR
Afternoon
Lower City Safehouse

It's been three weeks since you’ve last seen your King.

Business as usual, she’d said. An investigation of her own. Why she didn’t bother to bring anyone along, even those the closest to her, you don’t know. All you know is that she must be safe.

The King’s Crest in your body still hums with her strength.

You’re at one the Wings’ safehouses on the outskirts of Lower Alexandria, the basement of a seemingly abandoned warehouse. For how barren and derelict the rest of the building was, strewn with scrap metal and empty shipping crates, the basement itself was rather cozy— though that may have been from you making this a place called ‘home’.

One of many homes, but home nonetheless.

Stashes of weapons. A pile of sleeping bags. A fridge full of snacks. An antiquated, Old World gaming set. It was a humble place, but not a bad place to be. But you feel restless staying here, doing nothing. You’re here to guard the place, as your partner is to relocate some refugees from across the Mediterranean. You’re worried.

Getting up to the roof of the building’s easy. There, you wait, looking out at the city.

Lower Alexandria. Cast under the shadow from the Atlas up above, it’s an endless night-life out there, neon signs and flickering lights, the distant hum of the crowd. Somewhere out there, she’s fighting.

Your reverie is broken by the chime of your phone’s ringtone.

“Vido.” A woman’s voice, but not your King. Another one of you fellow Knights, one you haven’t talked to much. You can’t quite recall her name, but her voice is only faintly familiar, only that of an acquaintance. You probably don’t know her well.

“You busy? Well— no, nevermind.” She clears her throat. “Whatever job you’re on, you’re off it. Finn being sent back to take over for you. Something’s come up.”

“It’s a job for someone with a bit of tact.”


PENANCE
Afternoon
A Worn-down Church

This marks the third disappearance this month.

“—Was it because we joined this church? Do they have something against us—”

“—We can’t let them do this to us. We have to fight back—”

“—the Lord will protect us—”

“—like how He didn’t protect them?”

You look out on your congregation, the crowd abuzz with worried murmurs. Anger. Loss. Doubt. Fear. Emotions palpable in the air, and you can’t blame them for it. This really is worrying.

Numbers have begun to dwindle, but you know the others are safe. Yet even now, this atmosphere of fear grips them enough that they don’t even feel safe in this house of God.

This must be addressed.

You sift through the files of your archive. You know all your attendees well, knew them by name. To you, a loss of a follower isn’t just a blow to the Church’s growth, but the loss of a friend.

James Langley. Alicia. Marie Dreyer.

The last of them was the most recent disappearance, reported to you just this morning. What was all this? Kidnappings? Murders? Defections? You know not if this is a matter of your Church being targeted, or a threat faced by the whole city, but you know this is something you cannot ignore.

Father Heinrich, a long time ally since you’ve established this church, approaches you wearing a serious expression on his face. He leans in close and whispers.

“We have a lead.”

He glances out to the congregation, at the panic and doubt brewing beneath its surface, and looks back at you. “When you are available, I will be waiting in the back.” With a small bow, he takes his leave.

You turn to face the crowd, a group of about fifty today, and as you look up they fall silent, their murmurs and whispers cut short.

They watch you, expectantly, breaths bated and eyes expectant.

[Frantic Author]

2D
Afternoon
The Madame’s Estabilshment

Smoke drifts from the cigarette that's dangling from 2D's lips as he glances up from the corner, eyebrow raised. It's not like the group he works for is a total unknown - people who don the blackest of hats usually get around. Especially when you're one of 2D's caliber and skill.

"Don't be rude!" whispers a robotic voice in his ear, nasally and high-pitched. "You can't afford to get fired again, 2D!"

"Fuck off 01," 2D drawls, sticking a finger in his ear as he flicks ash onto the table. "You can't even calibrate my goddamn arms to punch a fucking Aberration. You're actually garbage. A trashcan made from other trashcans. If 00 was here, she'd be ashamed of your very presence in my head." He lounges onto the couch, staring at the man with a grin growing on his face. "I'm your Blackhat, you wanted one didn't you?"

"You're being rude, 2D! What if the Madame does like it?!"

2D turns away, hissing under his breath, "Oh my god, 01 you're actually the worst. Don't ruin this for us, we're behind on rent as is, and you and fucking 02 keep driving up electrical with your constant goddamn desire to watch mecha. I don't get what the big appeal is, you electroskeleton in my closet, it's just robots. You are robots. It is not as interesting for me as you seem to think."

"But you're basically a robot, aren't you? You have a cyberbrain, multiple implants, and work exclusively with robots. Except when you're yelling on message boards about the latest episode of this season's harem anime."

2D took a deep breath, another vicious drag off his cigarette, before he turned back around. "Anyways, you're the guy from the arms corp, right? What'd you want a Blackhat for? Got some kinda business rival ya needed to take down? Don't worry, I know the rules - you go against the syndicate, and you're the one who'll get killed."

"You can't just quote Darker Than Black and pretend that you're cooler then everyone else!"

With a twitch of his eye and a dangerous grin, 2D took another drag off his cigarette, and swore to himself that the code for 01 had to be dysfunctional, because he would never purposely design an AI that had to live constantly in his head to be this goddamn whiny.

[Bloble]

Frederick Fontaine
Afternoon
Lower City Safehouse

The chiming of an antiquated smartphone was enough to snap Frederick Fontaine out of his melancholy.

It had been three weeks since he'd last seen his King and he was beginning to understand how drug addicts felt undergoing withdrawal. As the fresh memories of her smile were obscured by the fog of time they only grew sweeter, bewitching him with the desire to see her again. Even so, he wasn't the type to mope. This wasn't moping. This was enjoying an easy assignment (the closest his lot ever got to vacation) and thinking of nothing while staring at the wonderful, disgusting city before him. He wasn't planning on going after her or anything. That'd have been silly.

Fontaine had unique ring tones for every person he deigned to remember. He didn't mark down names of contacts, sticking to numbers or jumbles of nonsense letters instead; if his phone ever got stolen it would give away their whole roster. Song cues were usually enough for him to know who was calling. The fresh ditty emanating from his phone, however, failed to spark anything beyond a faint recollection. He couldn't remember who this was, only that it was someone he'd passed by on the way to the water cooler.

With his free hand Fontaine raised the phone to his ear and picked up the call.

"Vido."

Her. Not her. He was getting cravings, hearing things that weren't there. This almost-stranger didn't even sound like his King in the least.

“You busy? Well— no, nevermind. Whatever job you’re on, you’re off it. Finn being sent back to take over for you. Something’s come up.”

“It’s a job for someone with a bit of tact.”

Fontaine paused. He swallowed the piece of pizza he'd slowly been chewing on and gingerly placed the rest of the slice back onto its plate. In an organization made up mostly of the sort of people that called themselves Heroes of Justice and considered brute force the best way to solve a problem, Fontaine was one of the few that could be trusted to talk to someone without punching them in the face. Hopefully he'd remember her name as they spoke. If nothing came he'd have to ask, which would be mildly embarrassing.

"Good timing," he said. "I was getting restless. If this job is important enough for you to pull a member of the inner circle away from his own, it must be urgent indeed."

He rose, walked across the room to a dingy wooden door, and threw it open, revealing a walk-in closet full of clothes. They ranged from trashy to subtle to extravagant.

"Tell me, then: what sort of occasion am I dressing for?"

[Katie]

PENANCE | Kristina Scriabina
Afternoon
A Worn-down Church

“If you have a lead, then it must be attended to, quickly.” Her voice maintains an even, rushed tone, for the girl who preaches isn’t used to speaking. The peculiarities of business and social gatherings were far beyond her reach. And this, this was an important matter, far above those. This was a matter of securing safety for her people, her flock. God’s flock of damned and disgraced lambs that still longed for His Grace.

She, too, longed for such salvation, but it was far beyond her now.

PENANCE, Kristina Scriabina, makes her way to the pulpit, with her typical, nervous gait. She had done this many times now, and yet… she felt so close to being completely overwhelmed. It was understandable, she was… seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, the years blended together. A proper priest would be far older, far wiser. She raises her hand, a faint stinging pain as she does so, a blackened glove silencing the masses.

While it was expected for those of the clergy to wear white, she was tainted. Stained. Black seemed all but fitting.

She adjusts the cross on her neck, hanging upside-down. The mark of St. Peter, who was so humble he dared not die in the same manner as Christ did. She was not great. She was simply chosen, given leadership. That was why she was here.

“Do you feel fear in the house of God?”

Her voice, loud and clear, rings across the church. She sees many faces, all familiar, open their eyes in shock. This was not the start they had expected, she supposed. Many put on a brave face and try to look strong, but some relent and show their fears with the slightest of nods. She understands both perspectives. It is okay.

“I do as well. I fear for all of you,” she admits, her voice echoing with the slightest hesitation at the end. “I promised that you would be safe here. I promised you God’s salvation. I promised you a home where you shall not be judged by the taint in your body, but by the purity of your soul.”

“We once lived in a world where non-violence was the answer, where peaceful protest could sway the hearts of many. I beg you to remember that while that age has passed, remember their message. Remember that He did not create us to hurt and suffer. He created us, us, so that we could be loved by one another, so that we could love one another.

“But know this. We live in an age where a man may be more metal than flesh, or more taint than humanity. We should never raise ourselves to arms, but I implore you, please keep yourselves safe. In life, we have the chance to do good deeds for salvation, so cling on to it as strongly as you can. To live and survive is to do good another day, is to warm the heart of another.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Alicia. James Langley. Marie Dreyer. They who are lost shall be found. This is a sacred place and I will not let it be soiled by the terror of others. Those who have any information can see me, for I shall personally search for them. I will do my best to bring them safe and sound. I am your friend, your confidant—please remember this. For I love you as much as God does, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you from harm.”

She gives a simple wave and leaves, for she has made a promise she would like to keep.

Little does she know that Samael’s shadow had appeared behind her, the skeletal angel framing the young preacher. A sign from above.

God would support her, no matter what the sin.

[Prix with a Silent X]

LILITH
Afternoon
The Madame's Establishment

Listening to the Madame prattle on like this was one of her least favorite things about the turn her life had taken recently. Still, she listened intently. Sometimes, she had a glazed, impassive look on her face. Other times, her eyes shone with an attentive willingness to listen, even if the reason she might be listening was probably inscrutable to those around her. Including the Madame, if she cared to notice. Lilith really didn't know why it seemed that she was often on the receiving end of rhetorical rants and questions that, occasionally, were meant to be answered. Sometimes, she could quickly, readily tell the difference. Other times, she didn't bother.

When Madame insisted twice, Lilith moistened her lips to keep them from sticking together after a long period of no use.

"I guess--" she started to say, sounding something like a petulant daughter as much as a young woman -- in her 20s, dark-haired, tired-eyed -- to a woman she had known less than a year. Then, there was quite the noisy intrusion and fuss of introduction. There was no indication that she was startled, but when she turned to look at the sudden focus of attention, she discreetly rolled her eyes. Then, she looked directly to Madame rather than answering the man.

"... I guess," she repeated, more loudly but in the same intonation. It was unlikely anyone had realized they'd interrupted her speaking, begrudging and nearly under her breath. Still, she made it sound like she'd been rudely interrupted. "... we turn to this guy," she said. The verve with which she identified the newcomer was obviously mocking, dubious.

[Kirby]

LILITH & 2D
Afternoon
The Madame’s Establishment

The man stares at 2D, mouth hanging slightly open, muttering something about weirdos who talk to their toasters. The Madame grins. “That’s right.”

“Well, mostly right. We don’t have a corporation of our own— yet.” She frowns at this, and you feel something just beneath the surface, solemnity and envy and the lurking fires of ambition.

“But yes. This guy’s with Ilios Corp, not like those gangbangers on the street we’ve had you clean up before. Brute force won’t work against an enemy with more Knights, weapons, money, influence, security…” She trails off into silence, her expression sour. “It just won’t, alright? We’ll need someone with hacking expertise to take him down.”

She says this as if having to convince you.

“I’ll fill you in. We had a deal, Baldwin and I. We provide the Crests, they provide the arms. See? Nice arrangement. Everyone wins. Of course, some people are just too greedy for their own good, and just have to ruin everything for themselves.”

“They cut us out of their arrangement, for some human traffickers. You know. Making their own Espers, harvesting their own Crests. Like they don’t need us anymore.” Her face darkens. “They didn’t just blow us off on our agreement. They’re planning on outright taking over. Encroaching on our territory. Stealing our business. And you know what he said?”

“He offered me a position to work under him. Him!” A real expression of disgust. “So that’s that. I’m not asking for much.”

So she says, but you feel there’s more to it than that. The man’s not just a backstabber to be dealt with, but a stepping stone on the way up. Taking him out is more than just a matter of competition and wounded pride. If you can take him out, what was his would be hers, and the Madame’s group could expand their hold on the market.

You aren’t sure if this is a good thing or bad thing.

2D, too, knows what’s at stake. There’s more money in this than just taking Baldwin’s pocket change. While whatever these Harvesters could have in mind likely won’t be enough to take down the entire corporation…

Threats of a scandal. Crashed stocks. Assets taken for ransom. A sword to dangle over their heads. More to gain, than just the paycheck from an overambitious gang leader.

“Just bring me his head.”

[Frantic Author]

2D
Afternoon
The Madame’s Establishment

2D listens intently, tilting his head as he smokes, thinking to himself. It's not like it's more morally dubious then anything else he's done, so it's probably fine. "Yeah, sounds good to me," he says with a grin. "How much hardware we talkin' here? Like, if I just get confirmation that he's workin' with Harvesters, he's out like that."

He snaps his fingers here, a gloved hand coming up and clicking, as he looks at the Madame with a lecherous grin on his face. "But that's not what you want, is it? 'Cause if he's gone and tucked away in a nice little four walled cell, then he doesn't realize the gravity of his situation. Ya want him to know you're coming for him, or do you want me to bring him to you? In one, he gets all the fear of knowing who he's crossed but in the other..."

His grin is vicious, and 2D's eyes flash with an undercurrent of emotion. "In the other, you get to look him in the eye, put your gun between his eyes, and pull the trigger. It's more personal, right? It's more about what he's done to you, and that's what counts. If it's Ilios, then their techs definitely high grade, but that's why I'm here. No worries Madame, I've got the contract, I'll take down their tech and we can waltz right in."

"You don't even know how to dance, 2D! Stop trying to sound cool!"

2D ignores the whiny sound of his worst AI, looking around the room. "So, I'm the hacker, which one of you are brains and which one's brawn? There's no way I'm walking into Ilios with a resume with things like, "Worked at an Internet Cafe" and "Self-Employed" to try to get a crack at their specs. They're too big to fall for something like that, so... is it a frontal assault on their system operators or do we have a backdoor inside?"

Corporations, as 2D knows very, very well are sleazy. They're corrupt. They're stacks on stacks of people who all want something for nothing, and expect nothing but the highest quality from the ones they're asking for. But there are hundreds of thousands of employees, and some, more then others need... a little extra. And selling secrets on the side is a fantastic way to supplement your income.

"I can cross-check Ilios search results versus Harvesters if you want to see if there's anything popping up about it, 2D."

"Go ahead, 01. Try and see what else Ilios has been up to of late, I want to know if there's any new tech they're working on that'd make them drop a contract for Harvesters."

He pauses.

"Oh, and buy the domain name "robococks". I need it to start pitching my newest idea."

A whimper echoes through 2D's ears as 01 reports back.

"It's taken."

"Goddammit 01. Just DDOS their servers and we'll call it even. You can even download Zeta when we get back."

The robot immediately perks up, and 2D can almost hear the excited nodding in his voice.

"Right! No problem 2D!"

[Prix with a Silent X]

LILITH
Afternoon
The Madame’s Establishment

LILITH's eyes track the Madame with something that looks a little like loyalty but which is cooler beneath the surface. Familiarity, maybe, which is strange. The woman who'd arranged to ruin her life so quickly, so easily, isn't a fit ally by any stretch of the imagination, let alone an employer, but here they are. Her eyebrows lift a little when the Madame seems to even hint at a desire for approval from her. In the back of her mind, it brings something back to life that she'd long since stopped listening to. It is something tricky like hope and treachery, but she knows she has to quell it, at least for now. She feels a little sluggish for a moment - only in her head - because she can't quite decide if giving fair, honest help is really worth it here. Then again, this isn't her world. Even good faith might be useless.

"Madame, this man is an idiot," she remarks when she gets a moment, glancing over at their new hacker. "Or he's an aspiring dramatist, and either way..."

She trails off, sighing. Having planted a seed of doubt, purposefully, she moves on easily.

"If he could do something to get your guy alone, I could..." she suggests, then the way she trails off is a little colder and a little less deliberate.

[Kirby]

VIDOFNIR
Afternoon
Lower City Safehouse

As the woman speaks over the phone, you try to recall her name.

She snorts. “If you can call that a job, anyway. Let’s be real, no one ever has their hands full guarding the safehouses. She thought it’d help you unwind, saying you were stressed lately. But anyway.” She clears her throat.

You could’ve sworn you’ve heard her voice before.

“The gist of it’s more, ah, business with human traffickers.”

Something with an ‘F’-ish sound in its name.

“You’ve heard of those disappearances lately? People disappearing from Lower Alexandria— like, more than usual? We got some intel on the group likely responsible. They’ve been snatching up people left and right, and not just Espers. That’s given us trouble for a while, but we’ve found signs pointing to them probably implanting them with Crests— like organ farming, come to think of it. Harvest a bit, let the rest grow back, and harvest some more. We know one of the main culprits has their fingers in the arms trade, so they’re probably using their harvest for making Crested weaponry.”

FIREBIRD? FENGHUANG? No, that’s not right.

“You know how it is— seedy establishments with high turnover rates. They’re using them as fronts for their trafficking; lot’s of places to pick from. The debt-ridden, replaceable staff, unregulated personnel, that sorta thing.”

PHOENIX? Was that it?

“Anyway. You like casinos?”

[Bloble]

Frederick Fontaine
Afternoon
Lower City Safehouse

“If you can call that a job, anyway. Let’s be real, no one ever has their hands full guarding the safehouses. She thought it’d help you unwind, saying you were stressed lately. But anyway."

Her suggestion?

Fontaine had to hold back a sigh. That person was far too caring. Yes, he'd been feeling out of it and yes, having a day off had helped somewhat, but knowing his current situation came about because of her noticing his troubles meant it was more frustrating than touching. His slip up meant she'd had to worry about one of her support pillars collapsing, and that was unacceptable. He had an image to maintain, of an unflappable man that could be there whenever he was called, who did not suffer from weariness and longing and all those other human failings. Otherwise, how could his King ever rely on him?

Well, she was relying on him now, or at least her followers were. That would do.

Fontaine listened idly to the woman (PHOENIX?) explain the mission as he browsed through the wardrobe. Human trafficking, manufacturing biological soldiers, atrocities involving Crests, it was all revolting in a familiar yet strange way. Each time he thought he'd seen the worst, the world managed to disgust him further.

"I see. The fronts would spring up faster than we could bring them down, so there's no point in sending in muscle. Presumably, then, you've found a lead, and require me to to trace it all the way to the roots of the operation."

“Anyway. You like casinos?”

Did he like casinos?

Did Kings rule? Did his heart beat? Did the rich exploit the poor?

"Do I like the sorts of shit-holes that exist just to fuck over morons with no impulse-control? The ones that funnel money from the poor into the wallets of fat-cat executives? The literal dens of debauchery that are more often than not fronts for the Empire or some other criminal syndicate?"

He stopped at a pitch-black bespoke suit. Its inner shirt was a deep red, and it was meant to be worn with no tie in a semi-sport leisure style. He'd tailored it himself.

Fontaine chuckled.

"They can be fun."

[Kirby]

PENANCE
Afternoon
A Worn-down Church

The congregation listens to you in awe as you speak, hanging onto every word. When you finish, their murmurs begin to subside, and the atmosphere of fear seems to have subsided. Safety from the words you speak, hope from the doctrine you preach, awe at the shadow of the angel that appeared at your side.

As you leave, they slip into murmurs and excited conversation, their fears gone, the bleakness lifted. You head to the back, where Henrich awaits.

“An excellent speech, as usual.”

“Of course,” he says, “Words can only do so much. It’s imperative we make our move before it’s too late. Considering recent events, it seems that direct intervention will be necessary.” An expression of distaste. “Regrettable, but necessary.”

“The information, now. We have evidence that the victims may very well be alive. Langley— you know, the widower police officer— seems to managed to send out a distress signal, probably through a hidden program in his cyberbrain.” He seats himself at a desk, opening some files. “We know not whether or not this signal is genuine, but there is little else we can do.”

“Elise has been trying her best, but at most, all we can tell is that the signal originated from Lower Alexandria, in one of the fringe districts— more warehouses and industrial parks than entertainment districts. The signal itself, however…”

He sends you the decoded signal files, and you open them. Most of it’s indistinct, like radio static or white noise, but you can make out the words, what you faintly recognize as establishments within the Sector, though you aren't too familiar with them yourself.

Aries Palace. Ilios Corp. I failed.

[Plue]

ARBALEST
Afternoon
Atlas Telamon

Searching the data packet that DOMINION just sent ARBELEST pulls additional information from Sector One's databases on the agent KHAMSIN. Streams of data flickering through her cyberized mind quickly devouring the available data. Metal body unnaturally still while she does so, a frown crossing her face as she considers the case, and her own involvement. While the other three Section agents were capable of blending in, it would be quite obvious from from merely a glance that she would not avoid attention, nor were her skills aligned with subtlety.

“Any questions?”

"Would it not be more likely to assume that KHAMSIN has either been harvested than converted?"

Nothing in the agents file indicated anything untoward betrayal, record spotless. Their familiarity with the missing police inspector making this even more of an unlikely scenario.

It was never as simple as they laid out.

"Neither my skills, nor appearance does not lend itself to infiltration... This organization that is involved, what more is known about it?"

Being kept in the dark was nothing new to this old soldier, but neither did it sit well with her. Far too many dead from incomplete Intel.

[Kirby]

LILITH & 2D
Afternoon
The Madame’s Establishment

The man snorts at LILITH’s comment, though he clears her throat, pretending to have coughed. The girl pipes up. “Well, sure, he’s a bit obsessed with Chinese cartoons or Korean animations or Mongolian shadow puppet shows or whatever the fuck, but I’m pretty sure all hackers are like that nowadays.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

The Madame smiles. “I have enough faith in our hired hands right here, that I trusts that he’ll know what should happen to him if he fails.” She turns to address 2D. “Tempting as it may be, just to burn it all to the ground, I’m afraid we’ll have to hold back a bit. Raze the kingdom with the king, and what else is there left to take? Take them down if you will, but we need their infrastructure intact. Don’t bring too much Sector attention to this whole affair.” Her grin widens. “After all, it’ll all be mine after he’s gone. I will make sure of that.”

As she speaks, 01 whispers into 2D’s ear, a general search done. While it didn’t find any concrete results regarding Ilios and the Harvesters— at the very least, this means there aren’t any rumors about them yet— it does find unlisted shipments of Purger weaponry.

The Esper-slaying specialty of the Purists— except the Purists shouldn’t be able to manufacture them anymore. No one should. After all, the Strains required to do so disappeared, after the disappearance of the Crownless King.

In other news, the DDoS on the domain Robococks seems to have gone through, 01 reports. It was owned by some small-time adult toy company. Now, the waiting game. Though this mission will be plenty a distraction from that.

"If he could do something to get your guy alone, I could..."

The Madame nods. “But of course. In fact, I’ve called you all here today because we can get him alone. Tonight. What we’re talking about here is a direct infiltration into their premises.”

She hesitates before she continues, an expression of mild distaste.

“I have… yet to formally reject his offer.” She looks as if she’d just swallowed something disgusting as she says this. “Thus, the plan. Tonight, I am to meet him on his territory, the Aries Palace, the casino his new partners use as a front to acquire material. So it’s simple, really. As I pretend to accept his offer, you,” she says to her Knights, “are to take him out. Of course, this won’t be easy, but we’re prepared. You,” she says to 2D, “are here to dismantle their security, as well as handle the transfers. Create the conditions in which we can win. After all, we will be outnumbered on their territory.”

“Criminal empires are big, you know. It won’t matter to the little people if there’s a change in management. If we pull this off, such a transfer of power will go off without a hitch.” She smiles. “And that empire shall become mine.”

She stands up, donning on her suit jacket, stubbing out her cigar on an ashtray.

“Well. Shall we go, then?”

[Katie]

PENANCE | Kristina Scriabina
Afternoon
A Worn-down Church

“I’ve said nothing of note, Heinrich. Not yet.” Her words come out rather quiet and clipped, because she has made so many promises that she feels she cannot keep. But the people, the people must be kept complacent, lest their fears overtake them. She could not stand to watch everything burn in an instant.

She takes in the knowledge Heinrich delivers like an attentive student, hand clenched into a fist. She does not recognize the names—it was only very recently she had arrived in the world that was Neo-Alexandria, after all—but the most important thing was that Langley was a police officer.

He worked for the Sector. This was government business, and if she were to intrude, they would not like it. She had no qualms against what made up the governing body, for as long as they left her and the flock alone, and they did, everything would be fine. However, they would see it as her trespassing on what had been silently allotted to her…

“It seems I may have to jeopardize a government investigation.” She looks up at Heinrich, her brow furrowed, eyes inquisitive. “Tell me about Aries Palace. Ilios Corp. I will go once I know.”

She prays that James Langley and the others are alive, but she knows the grim truth of reality.

Human beings were made to have finite lives, years as the price of punishment for the many sins they committed.

[Kirby]

Frederick Fontaine
Afternoon
Lower City Safehouse

“Heh.” You can’t see her, but you can practically hear her smile over the phone.

“How silly of me to ask”


Evening
Aries Palace Casino

You’ve been to many casinos before, and this one doesn’t seem too much different. So you think, as you stand in the reception area.

It’s not even the third biggest casino in the lower city, but even then it gives off a sense of grand opulence. You’re in a circular, high-ceilinged lobby, its centerpiece a fountain statue standing amid a pool, the marble form of a nude man, cradling grapes and ivy in one hand and pouring water from a wine jug in the other. A lavish display, as expected of an establishment such as this. Rather than the type who’d embrace new movements of architecture and art, the designer of this establishment seemed to have drawn heavily from Old-World styles— ancient Greek and Roman aesthetic, mostly.

You look about yourself. It’s a big place, this casino, but you have a general grasp of its layout.

Behind you lies the entrance, through which you could exit to the courtyard, where you could scout out the exterior, if you’d rather re-enter from an unorthodox entrance. You figure you could make it onto the roof, easy, if no one tries to shoot you out of the sky.

In the west wing, a series of restaurants, bars, lounges, much of it specializing in Old-World cuisine. In its east wing, an entertainment venue, often host to shows and concerts, though there doesn’t seem to be anything being hosted there at the moment. Looking up to the upper floors, you see the nightclubs and burlesque lounges, the distant bass of the dance floors faint, but audible.

Straight ahead across from the entrance, there lie the gambling halls. The poker tables, the slot machine, the roulettes. Here, fortunes can be won, or legacies lost, all at the flip of a coin. It practically calls to you.

Then again, you’re here to investigate, not to vacation— though you totally could, and no one would really be the wiser.

Around you, you see mostly men in suits and women in dresses, who practically stink of wealth, buzzing with energy and excitement. Among them, you sense the signatures of Crests. As you’d expect, you see several figures in suits, standing sentinel by their masters, neither mingling nor gambling, on the alert. You figure that a lot of Nobles would come with their Knights for protection. If anything, they’re more likely personal bodyguards than security.

Thus, the question remains.

Lost among this sea of gamblers, tasked with busting a trafficking operation of which you only have the faintest idea of, what’s a man to do?

[Frantic Author]

LILITH & 2D
Afternoon
The Madame’s Establishment

The girl pipes up. “Well, sure, he’s a bit obsessed with Chinese cartoons or Korean animations or Mongolian shadow puppet shows or whatever the fuck, but I’m pretty sure all hackers are like that nowadays.”

2D sniffs, tapping his fingers on the table. "They're called Mongolian moving pictures, and only hackers of the finest tastes enjoy them. And lonely people. Very, very, lonely people."

He shifts uncomfortably as the Madame continues to speak - 2D didn't like to think about what would happen to him if he failed. It wouldn't be pretty, or quick, or... fun.

"I can keep the Sector off us, but I'm gonna need firepower. 01, reactive 00 and 02, send them the coordinates for the drop-off."

"But we don't even have a drop-off 2D! We're just going to a Casino!"

"Send them to the fucking casino then." He pauses as 01 lists off the results of its search, frowning. "Purger weaponry? You're kidding, how the fuck did Ilios pick up Purger gear? I thought Crownless escaped, or died, or whatever."

2D muses as the Madame speaks, grinning as he stands up, pulling out a cigarette. "Very well Madame, for what you're offering, I don't have any complaints."

He lights it as he walks out of the building, waving a hand after himself.

"Let's get you a criminal empire."

[Bloble]

Frederick Fontaine
Evening
Aries Palace Casino

A casino is one of those places that every human being should visit at least once in their life. Not for fun, but to experience the highest form of degeneracy that humans aspire to. Rich and poor alike gamble, but where drug addicts and half-rabid homeless folk do it in the alleys and crevices of the slums, the elite gamble in casinos. The Aries Palace is most certainly a casino, and a great one at that, because of all the ways it disguises itself: a bar, a courtyard, a second floor with a place to dance, a dozen restaurants serving delicious food, and even a lounge to relax and enjoy some velvet tunes. All mere decorations attempting to hide away the real purpose one goes here: to put something on the line for nothing. Gambling is a form of prayer and the elite are its flock. It's a good thing their god does not exist.

All that and more flitted through Fontaine's thoughts as he moneyed his way inside. The mere sight of the fat stack of untraceable, easy-to-lose cash in his grip was enough to get him through the door and past security. Within, he took a moment to appreciate the effort that must have been put into making the Old World aesthetic work. Most of the regular visitors probably didn't spare that statue a look, let alone a thought for the artisan that had slaved away carving it.

Of course, Fontaine himself knew next to nothing about architecture. But admiring artwork was a cover for his real goal: arming himself with the greatest weapon one could have in this place: some sharp eyes.

And ears. A good nose, too. Really, every sense needed to be on high alert. Having come into the Palace with next to no information besides a vague goal of busting a smuggling ring, Fontaine's job was to be a bloodhound and sniff out even the faintest possibilities of a lead among the dozens of conversations happening all around him.

To that end, he needed eyes on the back of his head.

Using a Strain in this mess would be a death sentence, so he held off on that. Apart from the fact that none of his powers were conducive to gathering information, even trying meant he would have to contend with the attention of all the pet Espers following around their Masters. So instead, Fontaine merely dipped into the part of him that was VIDOFNIR... and manifested his Regalia.

Not all the way, of course. Only very slightly. The skin on the back of Fontaine's head crawled, and a hundred nerve endings emerged from his scalp, hidden under the camouflage of his black hair. It was not a tenth as effective (nor as impressive) as the real thing, but this much was enough to broaden Fontaine's senses immensely. He could see behind himself and all around without having to move a muscle, and his extra eyes wouldn't be noticed by either the cameras or the other Espers. Perfect for eavesdropping.

That being done, Fontaine decided he needed a drink. Not to actually finish, of course. No, one merely had to have a drink in hand for this sort of thing.

"Crack open that pre-war ice wine you have on display there," Fontaine said to the bartender of the nearby bar, picked because it had the best selection. "And fill a goblet to a centimeter from the top. Keep the bottle on hold - I will be asking for the rest later."

He normally preferred cocktails, but those tended to become worse with time, as did any drink requiring ice. So wine it was.

Having retrieved his prop for the night, Fontaine allowed himself to meander. As he pondered his destination he kept his senses open, striving to capture any snippets of free-floating conversation that might be relevant. Arms dealers generally talked about their business in broad terms. The casino was a good place to meet associates and plan ahead, so there was a real chance of overhearing something important. The upstairs lounge was all talking, but it was best saved for after the main event, when things needed to wind down. The concert hall and dance clubs would be too noisy, leaving only the most obvious place as his eventual destination: the casino proper.

Fontaine strolled right by the slot machines and the morons manning them and made a beeline for the card tables.

Poker. Chemin-de-fer. Blackjack. He knew them all, of course. Fontaine only needed slot himself into whichever was available and play as he always did. He would win, and lose of course, but Fontaine was a good enough player to not piss away the just-barely-sufficient amount of money he'd been allotted from the Wings funds. The real goal was not to gain money (though that would be a desirable side-effect as they could always use more funding) but to play well enough and show off enough money that he could eventually be admitted to the private backroom card tables.

It was there, Fontaine knew, that the stakes would be raised. In more ways than one.

[Kirby]

PENANCE
Afternoon
A Worn-down Church

He shakes his head, a look of distaste.

“Ilios Corp I am, unfortunately, unfamiliar with. Fortunately, or unfortunately,” he says, “I do know of Aries Palace.”

“The Palace is a casino— one of many— in the lower city. Not the largest, but one of them. Typically host to a number of wealthy patrons, rather than the type that attracted tourists, I’ve been there a number of times as Knight, back when I was still served the House Falkenrath.” A nostalgic, if a bit bitter, smile. “The Lady enjoyed those days we spent there, though gambling was never quite my calling.”

“Its location is unusual, in that it borders a more quiet area of the lower city.” He frowns. “I don’t suppose you’re the type to have been down there often, but it’s a district heavy on entertainment and nightlife venues. The Palace however, while still within the bounds of the entertainment districts, borders an area populated more with industrial parks and warehouses.”

“Of course, I have only been there as a bodyguard myself, so I’m not much more familiar with the establishment other than the basics, what other facilities it’s host to— entertainment halls, night clubs, restaurants. From what I know, many of their employees— janitors, dealers, and menial labor and the like— seem to be from outside the city, many of them refugees from the Blasted Lands and outside the Sector.”

He frowns. “...Some of our own, I’ve confirmed, have been employed there in the past. I’ve taken the liberty of speaking with them. None of them have had much to say about the place, other than that the rate of turnover among lower employees such as them seemed quite high, in which aside from higher personnel, your co-workers for one day could be replaced the next. I hear such a trend is common throughout the industry of menial work.”

He trails off into silence, looking bothered. Finally, he speaks up. “Do you really intend on going to a place such as that? It’s a place that seems a bit… uncouth, for one such as you.”

[Katie]

PENANCE
Afternoon
A Worn-down Church

“I already bear the weight of much sin—a few more will not make my sleep any more fitful.” It is a matter of acceptance. She and her angel are meant to bear a terrible curse, and nothing will change that. Being surrounded by the wretches of humanity, a den of sin, that didn’t bother her in the least. Her role was to be a beacon in such darkness.

A rather sullied beacon, but a beacon nonetheless.

“I’ll find a nice dress and investigate myself,” she says succinctly, what she will do set in stone by her stubborn will. She understands that Heinrich is worried about her reputation, but she isn’t sure if she has much of one. A fringe preacher who addresses the poor and sullied? Her words held little, significant sway, much to her chagrin.

“Besides, I’m merely…” She pauses, before deciding on a value. “Eighteen. Someone as young as myself… it would be rather unfair to hold me to perfect standards. All teenagers have their vices.”

And of vices, she had many, she knew.

[Prix with a Silent X]

LILITH
Afternoon
The Madame’s Establishment

To keep herself still, with the appearance of attentive listening, grounded and not ready to growl or lash out at something, someone, anything, Lilith counts off things in her head. She mentally takes inventory of her weapons, her poisons, and the way her body feels -- the clarity of her mind. It seems like the more the Madame talks, the more precarious that latter part is.

That bitch is so selfish. So cold, so calculating. The only person she thinks about is herself. The only power she promotes or supports is her own. Of course, absolutely none of this is surprising, but that idea itself creeps like poison under Lilith's skin.

“Well. Shall we go, then?”

"Let's go get this over with," Lilith snaps, the closest thing to revealing her true feelings she is prepared to do at the moment. Seething can wait. It always does. She glances over and up at 2D. She moves a little so she can speak to him discreetly as she passes by. "Whatever she offered you, it comes with a loophole exactly the size of your foot," she mutters to him, then goes quickly past -- dutiful, blind foot soldier.