(closed) Infiltration Log ↓

[larsenist]

Who: Akira (larsenist) & The Nasty Crimeboys
What: Quests + Events + Etc.
When: February-March
Where: Near/Far/Whereeeeever you are...
Warning(s): Human disasters + some violence.


(( cr meme comment can be found here, if you'd like to plot out something! c: ))

Comments

richie // SAFE HAVEN

[larsenist]

[ Some hours ago they'd bumped into each other at one of Voss' postings, no rhyme or reason, and now they emerge from one of the Temple offices with a brief list of names (and faces) to retrieve. ...Some tricky trinkets, too. ]

What's your favorite color.

[ It'll have to be red or peach. Akira doesn't mind swapping, or going with what they've got. ]

[summertimeblues]

[Funny, this match-up. He's absolutely certain that if he'd doubled back to change for a lighter jacket, or Akira had stopped for lunch before trekking to the Temple, the two would have missed each other and neither one would have thought ill of it. He's surprised that Akira wasn't dragging some other spindly youth along for the trip. As for himself, he'd gotten halfway down here before it occurred to him that asking Steve along might have been wise.

Yet here they are. At least now that his own specs are off that vague resemblance is gone. Nothing tying them together save the thin build and the mops of unruly black hair. It's one thing to make the dad joke yourself but to get it from the outside? Spare him.]

If there's only two crayons in the pack I guess I'll say red. [He pulls it from Akira's hand and rolls it in his palm. Doesn't feel too different from any other rock, but wait until they're out in the boonies and dodging arrows. Things will get rioting then.] Besides, it makes more sense for you to take the offense. I can run quick, and I can seduce our way out of a jam, but you and your mean demon are the heavy hitters of this outfit.

[larsenist]

[ Akira would've just gone alone if it came down to it—technically he's got Arsene anyway, but he's used to working in small groups, if not Richie's incidental company. (He's got to have crashed on their couch at least a handful of times, now...)

—And who knows, they could still be second cousins twice removed... ]

Peachy.

[ (Audience boos.) But that sounds solid to him... He'll have to be careful if he's using any party tricks, but then again Arsene doesn't pack much of a punch these days; just looks horrific to the unsuspecting normie. ]

Promise you won't leave me behind.

[ (He doesn't actually think Richie would abandon him... Leaving him in the dust, however, that's a lot more likely.) ]

jack (s76) // PARTY FOULS

[larsenist]

[ He hadn't meant to stay in hostile territory for so long, but it's proven to be as difficult to leave as it had been to slip in. The streets are almost chaotic with colorful celebration, making it a pain to navigate through the crowds—if not virtually impossible to escape. He's pulled aside for some creative competition, guided towards multiple arrays of food and drink, even given a playful nudge toward one of the painting stalls.

Akira does what he can to blend in, mingling where he can and sidestepping the rest... But as the night wears on, so does his energy and patience. He's ready to make an exit for good, though he's intercepted by a small group of drunkards.

—And some misfortunate minutes later, he's being dragged to one of the flames, and not without a struggle. (He collects a split lip for his troubles and a knee to the gut, only barely avoiding a sharp blow to the back of his head as he twists in his captors' grip.) ]

Fuck off.

[ He's doing his best not to summon his persona in a place like this, but as the heat of the pyre draws closer and closer, he's starting to seriously reconsider. ]

[personalwar]

[ This festival, meant to celebrate the murder of a tyrant, might seem barbaric to some, but 76 hadn't thought much of it at first. There were countries back home who had celebrated their independence from colonial rule, which often involved a death of a prominent ruler; so long as things remain civil, there isn't much harm in it. Offerings of paper with wishes written into them is nothing to frown at either.

The problem is that it doesn't stop there. It's getting late and 76 is on his way back to his apartment in the Old City when he hears the sounds of a struggle, and a growled out threat. He turns a corner to find the scene, illuminated by the light of one of the many fires that have been set all over the city.

There's a group of people dragging a young boy toward said flame, and when the light flickers just right, 76 gets a glimpse of his face. Akira? Since when did he come back out of stasis?

That's a question to worry about later. 76 quickly closes the distance between him and the group so that he can break things up, his hands curled into fists at his sides as he prepares for a fight. ]

You're gonna want to let go of him.

[larsenist]

[ 76 poses an intimidating figure in the shadows, dark angles cast by the firelight and mask virtually a line of embers itself. ...But the Wyverns are hardly deterred from their activity, emboldened by drink and ancient victories and societal bravado; this interloper is simply more fuel for the flames.

They release Akira (or rather, one of them viciously kicks him into the dirt), before turning their attention to their new contender. (Street brawlers in these parts don't seem to care whether they're armed or unarmed in a fight, and this lot is as mean as they come.) One of them spits into the ground as they size up 76, shoulders rolling back as he lumbers over.

—There aren't any introductions, not even a single jeer. The thug throws a punch immediately, aiming for what he perceives to be an opening, and it quickly descends into chaos from there. (The Wyverns aren't afraid to take advantage of their numbers, another bruiser stepping in to join the fray.)

Akira, in the meantime, struggles to get to his feet, still winded from the previous beating. (He has no idea who his mysterious benefactor is, but he can't just sit back and watch...)

(...Though, it'll be another tag before he can recover enough to do anything. All you, heroic stranger...) ]

// A Day in the Life (Take Two)

[tricksune]

[tricksune]

[ The brothers' workroom hadn't been too weird—more papers to go through than jewelry, and a secret compartment that no average artisan needs, but still. Nothing that shoots up red flags for murder. Snooping about had given then a little insight on how the family business functions, and it seemed they were ready to take on the rest of the house.

But the more they tip-toe about, the more... strange it gets. Clair has no great experience sneaking about like the rest of her company, and yet it's easy to dodge the servants in their own wing, and the guards are scarcely around. They end up in this wing for precisely that reason: it's the least occupied corner of the house.

Yusuke's not sure what to make of it at a glance, silently slipping through the door and taking watch of the hallway as Clair gets a chance to snoop about first. Not that there's a point, no one's coming. And it's so quiet they'd hear anyone try.

...Creepy. He speaks in a low whisper over to her. ]

What is this place?

[cajolery]

[ Clair might not have any experience sneaking around, but she does have a different kind of experience: being in big mansions. So it strikes her as pretty odd that they haven't really run into many guards or servants—especially the servants. For a place as big as this one, they should be all over the place, especially as the brothers work here as well.

It's eerie.

She inspects the room they've infiltrated while Yusuke waits by the door, glancing around the sitting room and then peeking behind the door—a bedroom. Someone's quarters, then, though the painting over the fireplace kind of gives away who they belong to. ]

I do believe these are Colby's rooms.

[ Strange. They're quite large for a servant's room, but—why does the brother live in the servant's wing anyway? That strikes her as very unusual. Shocking, almost, for a member of the family to live with the servants. It's even more weird then the fact that everything in the room looks like its occupant just stepped out for a moment. ]

My goodness. 'Tis almost as if he still lives here.

Meanwhile...

[larsenist]

[ It's just as eerily quiet in the other wing, if not more so, the guards seeming to drift mainly around the servants' side of the house. After a brief sweep of the floor (each door has been left unlocked—clearly the twins felt very secure in their own home), Akira and Percival settle on the office.

They're immediately greeted by no shortage of paperwork, though Akira's more keen on searching for any conspicuous objects before thumbing through the stacks. ...Maybe Percival might find enjoyment in the task. He seems to be the more methodic of the two...

The thief helps himself to the plush chair behind the desk, and though it's tempting to kick his feet up, he refrains. He gets busy searching the carpentry for hidden compartments, and when he finds none, he resorts to the usual lock-picking. (The drawers open without putting up a fight.) ]

'Dear Diary'...

[ He procures a leather-bound journal and passes it to his accomplice to examine while he continues to comb through the remaining contents in the drawers. ]

[tzaraisen]

[ Percival wouldn't have thought that he'd end up being investigation partners with someone like Akira. Granted, he still doesn't even know this kid's name, but he was apparently someone who could be trusted by Yusuke, and that's enough for Percival not to offer anything more than a half-hearted protest before diving into their work.

It hasn't been long, but Akira has already begun to prove himself as someone valuable to have around for such an investigation. He seems to be going directly for things that might be hidden in certain compartments, and given that they don't have infinite time to search the house, it makes perfect sense. Percival, on the other hand, begins to focus his efforts on skimming the various papers scattered around the office. He's wearing gloves, lest they leave behind incriminating fingerprints, and moves so as to not disturb things as they are within the messy office. ]

A journal of some sort? [ He flips through it quickly. There's nothing here reported that's out of the ordinary. ] The entries stop shortly after Colby's death, as expected.

[ He continues leafing through the documents, zeroing in on what look like a set of correspondance... all in different handwritings. ]

Here. These appear to be messages sent back and forth among the three of them.

sansa // CHAOS ERUPTS (TAILOR)

[larsenist]

[ It's by chance he crosses The Silk Wyrms, more or less steered there in an attempt to avoid the riots elsewhere. (The storm seems to have already passed through this particular district, leaving its streets littered with broken glass and splintered wood—or maybe this is just the eye of it.)

Even in the disarray of overturned dress forms and rent fabric, scattered feathers and beads, Akira immediately spots a girl kneeling next to a pool of torn garments, holding one of the ruined gowns in her hands. (It's probably none of his business, but he can't ignore her, either. There's no knowing who'll come back this way, and with the current condition of the city as unpleasant as it is...) ]

You okay...?

[ He's quiet but careful about his approach, taking care not to startle her. (He's well-aware he could easily be mistaken for a looter himself, and he's not that kind of thief.) ]

WALTZES HERE TWENTY YEARS LATE im so sorry

[unprays]

[ there's dirt on her face, and the hem of her own dress is torn, too — but it's nothing to her, nothing after having seen her wolf injured while protecting her, nothing after what she'd already put up with in Westeros.

Lady is healed, now, and her attention is on the ruined remains of the garments they'd worked so hard on. what a waste it is, she thinks — if the looters had stolen the clothes for themselves, that she could have understood. but destroying them, for no reason at all? what was the point of that?

she looks at the young man who walks in, sighing at his question. ]

I'm fine, [ she says, quiet and tired. ] If you're here looking for injured people, there's no one else here but me. Well, me and my direwolf.

koltira // CHAOS ERUPTS (MIST)

[larsenist]

[ The mist is impossible to avoid, and after several lungfuls of it so is a fistfight. (Akira isn't really the shouting type, even as Joker, and even moreso he's not the kind to back down from confrontation—especially if some asshole is going to throw the first punch.)

He's far from first to join the fray; by the time he joins in practically the entire street has already devolved into exchanging blows. In the midst of it, he just so happens to recognize a refugee from the gala. (...It is especially difficult to forget someone as tall, dead and handsome as Koltira.)

And though Akira's a little too preoccupied to exchange greetings, it isn't long before they're within the other's vicinity. He shoves a particularly irritating rioter away from him with a foot to the chest, sending the stranger Koltira's way. ]

Heads up.

[ (Hey, how's it going?) ]

[respired]

[ For Koltira's part, the living--unfortunately--tend to run together. His mind is something of a latticework besides, full of gaps and strange patterns. His memories are gossamer, and they grow thinner over time, especially if not constantly reinforced. So he recognizes Akira, but cannot pin him down in any significant way.

He does catch the rioter, though, holding him up by the wrist. he man flails, growling like an animal, kicking and thrashing about. ]

These people have gone mad.

[ And Koltira would know. ]

Are we permitted to kill them?

[larsenist]

[ You're a pal... Akira himself is only barely holding onto whatever cool he's got left in him, only just enough sense to respond, ]

It's tempting.

[ (But he's still young, too green and soft at heart to really contemplate murder even under the oppressive fog clouding his head.) ]

Maybe— [ His words are punctuated as he ducks another swing in his direction (this time it's someone a makeshift bludgeon), ] —they'll wear themselves out.

[ (Doubtful.) He doesn't hold back his aggression this time, drawing his knife and ramming the hilt sharply into the side of the male's head, knocking him out cold. ]

...Maybe not.

[ He blinks over at Koltira, a hint of mischief behind his flat expression. ] That's one for me.

wildcard - i told you i'd just copy and paste this

[frombetrayal]

[ she collides into an asshole who isn't looking where he's--oh wait, it's akira?? ]

bEAUtiful

[larsenist]

[ Honestly, he really doesn't know where he's going anymore, the day of frantic searching devolved into mindless wandering. He's lost track of so many people throughout the ordeal, and since the commotion at the Institute he simply hasn't stopped to properly to collect himself. He's exhausted despite his bullheaded attempts to ignore it, and a single, blind turn sends him stumbling backwards, seating him firmly on his ass. ]

Sorr— [ —y. ]

...Hey.

[ Translation: Haru... you're safe... he is so goddamn glad to see you...

...Also this is his cue to get up and help her, but the rest of him seems pretty determined to stay planted where he is. He musses his hair wordlessly for a moment instead—it feels a lot like when he'd woken up on Thesa, the same relief and melancholy. ('You alright?' he'd ask, as he usually does, and she'd probably smile and tell him she was...) ]

...Can I borrow you for a minute?

[ Maybe it's just a trick of the light, but she looks about as aimless and frazzled as he feels. ]

[frombetrayal]

[Oof. Haru hits the ground hard, without much grace, and looks up at who she's collided with. Her eyes are wide and she's more than a little flustered, which is, perhaps, to be expected, considering... everything.]

Oh! I'm—

[Sorry, she's about to say, but her apology dies on her lips at the same time as Akira's does on his.]

Hey...

[She echoes what he says. It takes her a moment or two to start to get up to her feet, and she holds her hand out to him as she does. It's cool. They're both dealing with a lot, clearly.

She's never known him not to dodge something like that.]

Of course you can. Did you have somewhere in mind, or would you like to come over?

[Her house is a little quieter these days. Even the dogs are more subdued than before.]

red // TAKEN

[larsenist]

[ Yusuke's been brought back from the Institute and put in Ann's care, but there's still one member of their household unaccounted for. The lack of her presence feels all the more obvious with the rest of them gathered in the living room, where their resident artist is currently in recovery.

It's difficult to see any of his friends in pain, and even worse to know one of them is still missing. His hands curl into fists at his side, a sharp and sudden anger flaring in him.

...He can't stay here and watch. He exits the room silently, not so much of a word in parting as he heads straight for the door.

(He'll find Sandra, and god help whoever took her if he finds them too.) ]

[persistor]

[ Her anger is a constant, simmering thing — she's not a stranger to kindling the rage, taking it with her for as long as humanely possible. The location may have changed, the context of it different than the last time she's felt something similar, but the core of it remains.

There's only so much waiting she'll do — but she bides her time, because storming out would spell disaster. Especially with the number of people in their house, the number of eyes watching each other ( waiting, just like her ).

She stays in the kitchen under the pretense of lounging the best she can. When movement catches her attention, she follows up beside him. Gently tapping his shoulder as she shrugs on a jacket of her own — if he turns, she shoots him a look before opening the door. Gesturing to let him through, first.

It's a proper protag squad, now. ]

[larsenist]

[ It's odd. When two, similarly quiet and equally angry forces meet, there should be some sort of turbulence, a palpable tension and plenty of room for misunderstanding. But instead he feels the opposite—reassured by her presence and even calmed to know there's someone else sharing his frame of mind. (It isn't so surprising; they've shared the same roof long enough by now, haven't they?)

And while it's probably bad manners to go through a door before a lady, neither of them are the type to argue etiquette when there are more important things to do. He takes his cue and steps outside, only pausing long enough for them to plot a preliminary search route. (Amazing he doesn't even have to explain what all this is about.) ]

...I didn't see any sign of her coming back from the Institute.

[ So that's one path they can cross off their map. ...Many more to go, but it doesn't deter him. ]

> taken.

[desistor]

[It starts early on. He and Red get jumped in the street and narrowly escape the confrontation going too far south. They don't immediately have much reason to think that it was part of a bigger problem...some conspiracy busy rolling through the city, right under their noses. Things have been volatile for a while, he's gotten into more than a few scuffles, himself. But this was different—and something about the air sits uneasy on him, long after they were in the clear. He sees Red home and notes the relative emptiness of it—no Sandra, to start, which already strikes him as a little fishy—and catches up on the news. Takes advantage of his legs to pace outside their new digs, for a while. Picking restlessly at the wraps on his hands while he skims his phone.

Nothing public yet. But his hackles don't settle. (Sandra and Richie spend time enough together. It's safe enough to assume, if she's not in her place in the house, that she's off at his. But neither one of them are answering their messages. And after getting harried on the way home, the part of him that had plenty of time to ruminate on the rapid decimation of Cloudbank is already starting to ease into on edge.)

Enough that he starts a little, when he notices Akira nearby. Lifts his head and drops his phone into his pocket. (Seemingly) apropos of very little—]

You haven't heard from Rich, have you? [A beat, but before Akira can answer that first question—] ...Sandra?

[(Clair, Percival...the list will only get longer the wider they start to cast their net. But for now—it starts closer to home.)]

[larsenist]

[ The city is silent but far from peaceful, and the ambiguous unease spreads like a sickness. There's already been strange happenings at the Institute—a chain of accidents too frequent to be entirely coincidental... But it's impossible to know what exactly is underlying it all, and the anticipation only exacerbates Akira's quiet concern. Both questions from Boxer warrant a shake of his head, though he's glad he isn't the only one who notices. ]

Tried texting earlier. No dice.

[ From either of them, who are both usually available this time of day. (Could be in each other's company, but with the riots and the ashes of their first home only just behind them, all members of the household have done their best to stay connected.) ]

...I could go for a walk.

[ Richie's still only a hop and a skip away. ]

[desistor]

[Comfort in knowing you're not the only one with your hackles up. The kind of half-baked validation that doesn't have any right to motivate you the way it does. And yet, he stops his pacing to frown out toward their old neck of the woods. Wouldn't take long.]

...Yeah, sure. Sounds good.

[Sounds really good, actually. (What are the odds that they'll knock on the door to Richie and Sandra wondering what they've gotten themselves all worked up about and that'll be that? Worse than they should be, far worse than he'd like.) But don't think for a second he's letting you do it alone, kid. He casts a glance over his shoulder at the house, as if to check if anyone's come out to listen in on them. (Red, mostly—she'd worried, he's worried. But he doesn't want to make it worse just because his feet are itching and his head is running overtime. Not until he knows he's got a leg to stand on.) Then he picks the Transistor up from where he's leaned it against the building to swing it up to its usual place against his shoulder so they can get moving.]

Don't know about you— [But.] I've got a bad feeling.

[As fuzzily-founded as it is. He doesn't much like the idea of heading off without Red, but he likes the idea of involving her even less until he knows what they're dealing with. Besides—they won't be far.]