( Open )

[immeasurably]

Who: David Haller (immeasurably) & you.
What: Market clean-up and investigating.
When: First half of the event.
Where: Around Olympia.
Warning(s): None for now. Will add as needed.


» MARKET DISTRICT.

[ Having run through his meager list of contacts to assure himself that nobody he knew had been caught in the blast, David's next port of call is the market itself. Intending to offer what assistance he can, he isn't remotely prepared for what he finds — the devastation is immense.

Masked volunteers (and perhaps a few of the more entrepreneurial sorts) pick over the wreckage as curious onlookers gather. Anxiety prickles at the edge of his awareness and for a moment he regrets not taking Charles up on his offer of company, thinks that if nothing else the Institute must be quieter.

Still, he perseveres. Retrieving a mask and some protective gear, he heads toward the area designated for volunteers to change. ]

D'you think they'll catch whoever did it?

» RUMORS.

[ If there's one thing the protective gear is good for (beyond making you sweat like a pig) it's blending in.

Hours seem to have passed since he'd first arrived, and David quickly loses himself in the monotony of the task: gathering debris, disposing it in the provided heavy-duty bags. Not exactly glamorous work, but important.

It's during a brief respite that he first catches wind of the rumor — a tattooed woman and several friends have gathered in one of the shadowy corners, murmuring among themselves. He lingers as long as he is able, long enough to catch the gist of what is said — that the attack had been a statement of some kind, that it was something expected — before he is called away again and by the time he is able to return they seem to have vanished.

Yanking the mask from his face, David scrubs a hand through his hair, visibly irritated. ]

Goddamn it.

» WILDCARD.

[ Have something else in mind? Hit me up. I'm reachable at resurrectionist or resurrectionst#2222 on Discord. ]

Comments

wildcard!

[jensaarai]

[Ren doesn't care about this city directly, those who were injured, ill, or anything of the sort. But he is pragmatic, and there are benefits in uncovering the information that he can, as quickly and efficiently as possible. He's followed a couple leads, but ultimately he ends up at one of the bars in the red light district.

People talk, particularly when they drink, so it's an ideal place to listen and observe. Of course, it's also a good time to hustle and earn some extra silver from card games. His opponents don't need to know about the manner in which he's cheating.

Sometime after one of the games ends, he spots David. He might have been here for a while, he might have just arrived. The place is poorly lit and smokey so it is hard to say with certainty. Ren decides in that moment to approach him, if only on the off-chance that his acquaintance knows something useful.] You look like you could use a drink.

[immeasurably]

[ The bar is small and on the fringes of the Red Light District. David doesn't choose it for the location so much as he chooses it for the beer — which is cheap and plentiful — and the fact that he's largely left to his own devices.

For the first time in a long time he finds himself craving something a little stronger than alcohol, a little more steadying; instead he quells that urge with the huff of a laugh, head shaking with it. ]

That obvious, huh? [ It had been a long day — a difficult day too, particularly when night had begun to settle and the crowd had grown less settled. The Market was important, the attack made all the more personal by the fact that whoever had chosen it as a site had done so with the intention of spreading as much damage as possible. ]

[jensaarai]

[Ren gestures at the bartender, who up to that moment seemed caught up in drying glasses and hardly paying attention. However, the man stops what he's doing and wordlessly deposits two beers from the tap before returning to his other duties.

Ren pushes one of the glasses toward David, though he doesn't take a sip of his own just yet.]

You're practically screaming it.

[immeasurably]

[ Never one to turn down a drink, even when he probably should — especially when he should — David is all to happy to accept the drink, settling into one of the corners of the bar with his new ( and perceptive ) friend. ]

I'm sorry. [ It's offered simply, reflexively, as he tips back the glass and drinks deep. The breathing mask still hangs around his neck, the co-coordinator insistent that he keep it for the moment — particularly if he intends to return again tomorrow. ]

It's been a long day.

[jensaarai]

[Ren doesn't bother saying anything specifically about the length of the day. Not directly. It's a fair assumption that most people have been busy in the aftermath of recent events. That, and he's not one for small-talk.

It wastes time and he'd much rather get to the point.]

Have you heard anything useful?

[Which is subjective, but Ren can work with that.]

always great when icon shuffle fucks one over.

[immeasurably]

[ Fingers tapping lightly against the counter top, David briefly debates whether it's worth mentioning anything of what he'd overheard — it hadn't been much, the tattooed woman long gone before he could follow up on what had been said. ]

Depends on what you'd consider useful, I guess.

[ It's not an intentional coyness on his part, however it might seem. He takes another pull on his drink before adding, clarifying: ] I assume we're talking about the only thing worth talking about these days.

[jensaarai]

Sadly anything but the obvious is of little consequence right now.

[There's been a lot of talk, a lot of speculation about what caused this or that, or who was responsible. But a lot of it is just that--talk.]

At this point, almost anything helps, doesn't it? [Which isn't true. Widespread speculation or targeting the wrong person or people can make things worse. But ultimately, he just wants David to tell him.

He could do some probing, but he understands the benefits of having a decent rapport with someone. Particularly when he has so few allies here.]

[immeasurably]

[ Settled in their corner, it's unlikely that they'll be overheard by anyone but the most diligent of eavesdroppers.

Still, David gives the room another sweep ㅡ extending his awareness slowly, gradually, fingers skimming along the minds in the room. He is met with a soft murmur of thoughts, unremarkable, and satisfied, turns his attention back to Ren.

Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, ] I saw something earlier, at the Market. It wasn't much, but.

It seems like this thing's been brewing for awhile. There was this ㅡ this woman. [ In the forefront of his mind, a vision of her: age difficult to determine, hunched in a shadowy corner with a number of others. She's covered in a winding rainbow of ink, bright spots of color that draw the eye and a winding design that makes it difficult to separate one pattern from the next.

It must have taken her days ㅡ weeks, maybe even months ㅡ to finish. ] She was, well it doesn't matter, but she was saying that the guys that did it were marked. Recently done.

rumors;

[badgerlock]

[David isn't the only one trying to listen in on rumors; he's just a touch more successful. Fitz is making his way through the debris, and he's careful to not touch any of it, when he hears David's swear and looks up, and then around. There's no one there; he missed the women, too.]

Problem?

[Problem: Fitz is not wearing protective gear.]

[immeasurably]

[ Finger still twisting in his hair, David turns, blue eyes settling on Fitz — and then widening when he registers the fact that he is standing in the middle of the Market without any protective gear. ]

Man, are you insane? [ His hands drop back to his side, voice rising in part incredulity and part concern. The tattooed woman momentarily forgotten. ]

You're standing in the middle of a bio-hazard zone. Get back, [ he starts forward, intending to push Fitz back himself if necessary. ] it's not safe.

[badgerlock]

[Bio-hazard is for people with a deep understanding of germs, not for Fitzes. He takes a step back, easily, and his eyebrows go up.]

They said there was smoke.

[He knows that much.]

Doesn't look it now.

[immeasurably]

[ Later, David will almost certainly apologize. He's not this guy ㅡ not really ㅡ but even with his limited understanding, he knows that Fitz ambling through the Market without protection spells disaster for everyone involved. ]

Smoke doesn't need to be visible for there to be a problem.

C'mon. [ David nods toward the collection of volunteers. ] Let's get you a mask, at least.

[badgerlock]

[He looks over, but then nods. Yes. All right. Let's get a mask.

As soon as a mask is acquired, Fitz takes his time looking around this market.]

Do you know anything? Why this happened?

[Although Fitz is no stranger to senesless terrorism.]

[immeasurably]

Some kind of statement, I'm guessing. [ Just judging by that video. He doesn't know the people named, doesn't know their story, and perhaps it's all just one big misdirect but that doesn't change the fact that people have been hurt and were now in danger. ]

Politics. Well-beyond my pay-grade, anyway.

[ Then, as it occurs to him: ] You're a refugee?

[badgerlock]

As they call it, yes.

[A refugee. He never thought about it that way, no matter what he did.]

Well. I'm no stranger to those who cause chaos for the sake of fear.

[Terrorism is not a word they use but they should.]

[immeasurably]

[ If there was a more delicate way to address the subject of their respective origins, David had yet to find it — not that he'd been looking all that hard. ]

I'm sorry. [ It's the kind of apology that comes quickly now, a reflex. ]

Fear of whom is the question, though, isn't it? [ Later it would be revealed, at least in part, that Olympia was not the only city to have been targeted but for the moment now there are only so many places to be pointing fingers and if experience taught him anything it was that outsiders made easy targets. ]

[badgerlock]

Well. It's unlikely it's us, isn't it?

As they don't know we're here.

[Or, at least, that's what Fitz heard. Maybe he's wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.]

[immeasurably]

For the people that can blend easily, sure. [ He'd met a girl with antenna recently. ]

And just because we're not talking doesn't mean that someone, somewhere, hasn't been.

[badgerlock]

Well.

Time to find out who has.

[That's the important part, he supposes.]

I'm Fitz.

wildcard!

[lucubrare]

[ Late enough to be called early morning on Sunday finds Cass perched in David's and Cassian's kitchen, cross-legged on the counter, eating something sweet and vividly colored out of a jar. There's also a kettle heating up to her left, and she keeps her hand near it while also scanning something on her phone with her right hand.

She doesn't make a noise, in the dark, and doesn't look up from what she's struggling to read once someone comes in...every so often she clicks on a word and a soft, male voice announces it for her, so that's probably a lot of fun to hear in the dark, isn't it? ]

[immeasurably]

[ Sometime later in stumbles David, bleary-eyed and cotton-mouthed, in search of whatever passes for coffee in this place. It's not even that he's a big coffee drinker that's the problem — though Cassian seems to have quite the taste for the stuff — as he'll seize on whatever familiarity there is to be had, forging life-lines out of the simplest things.

He does a double-take when he notices Cass, hunched over on the table, not entirely sure she's real just yet.

Then he offers, entirely too cheerful for this hour, testing: ] Well, good morning to you too.

[lucubrare]

...what? [ Incredulous, mostly, but then the kettle starts just the edge of a whistle and Cassandra moves so fast it's almost impossible to track her visually. Water is poured into a cup and then, with a glance at David over her shoulder, into something resembling a french press.

In the still half-dark. ] Morning.

Cassian drinks a lot of coffee. [ Says the girl who drank too much soda back home, honestly, but coffee will do just as easily. ] Do you want some?

[immeasurably]

Nothing. [ Hallucinations can talk, he'd remind himself if he were in a place to dwell on such things, but right now the siren call of caffeine matters more than lingering on the kind of existential questions that seem to be filtering their way into his life more and more these days. ]

Don't think he sleeps much. [ They hadn't discussed it; they didn't know each other well enough for him to consider it his place.

He musters a smile, ] Yes, please. That'd be great.

[lucubrare]

No, none of us do. [ She's heard his bed crashing in the night, and is pretty sure that's...not normal, but she isn't bringing it up right now. ]

Do you drink...sugar? Milk? [ There's a sweetmilk she's grown fond of, here. ]

[immeasurably]

[ She really doesn't know the half of it ㅡ neither does Cassian, really, though he clearly suspects that there's something up judging from that text. Broaching the subject is something David's not looking forward to. ]

Two sugars, and I'll add the milk. [ Drinking it black would certainly kick-start him into wakefulness but the bitterness is not worth it. ]

Been here long?

wildcard

[greyate]

[ As they set off from the Institute, Jean adjusts the strap of the bag slung over her shoulders. ]

Thanks for coming with me.

[ She was more than prepared to head off by herself but two pairs of eyes and hands were better than one. After seeing the state Sansa and the others were in, she was ready to spend hours looking for whatever they could find and bring back. As long as one of them worked, that was all that mattered. ]

Did you have any luck at the market when you checked it out?

[immeasurably]

No problem. [ The Market area had finally been cleared, and while he'd appreciated the activity ㅡ anything to keep his mind off, well... everything ㅡ that sense of helplessness had slowly seeped back in.

Volunteering to help gather samples had been a natural solution. He'd wanted an excuse to explore and, while the circumstances were far from ideal, he had nonetheless appreciated the chance to do something to help. ]

Uhㅡ [ he runs a hand through his hair, pausing. ] ㅡ kind of.

[greyate]

[ She looks back over at him when he says that, ]

Yeah? What happened?

[immeasurably]

I think I might've overheard something? [ The uncertainty is evident ㅡ it wasn't that he doubted that he'd heard it but that it was anything relevant. ]

There was this girl ㅡ well, I think she was a girl. I didn't get a close enough look but she seemed youngish, and she had all these ㅡ [ another wave, this time toward his body. ] ㅡ tattoos. She was covered in them. [ There's a point to this, bear with him. ]

So, anyway ㅡ she was saying that the people who did this ㅡ that it probably wasn't a cult because their ink was too new. I don't ㅡ [ a shrug. ] ㅡ I tried to go back, here more, but she was gone.

Guess I should report it. I just don't know to who. I'm not exactly on a first name basis with any of the Guard.

[greyate]

[ Her brow furrows as she listens to the description, sure that David is getting to the point but still not sure what to make of it. People here were... very different from what she was familiar with back on Earth. All these cultures and new history to learn. It was overwhelming if she tried to dwell on it.

But what he says is still something. People might be able to use the information. ]

I know someone. Eggsy. Eggsy Unwin. Do you want to call him?

[ She even reaches for her phone for him to use. ]

[immeasurably]

We can text him a little later. [ The old paranoia had begun to settle on his journey back, made worse by his encounter with Mantis in the Red Light District ㅡ these people didn't play around and there was no way of knowing who was safe. ]

I ㅡ it might not be safe, while people can overhear.

[greyate]

[ She nods and pockets her phone again. ]

I just assumed everyone would want to find those responsible.

[ And that was the general sentiment she was picking up yet she couldn't really be open about that, could she? She looks around them as they pass other people. ]

Didn't occur to me that some of them might still be around.

[ It's an easy thing to overlook when wanting to focus on... pretty much everything else. ]

[immeasurably]

[ Lifting his shoulders, ] There's a fine line between finding someone and finding the right someone.

I'm no expert but there's advantages to having someone to pin this on. [ There'll be public pressure, people demanding answers, and fingers being pointed at anyone remotely suspicious.

Then he adds, seemingly off-handed: ] Not that the Guard would do that, of course.

[greyate]

[ Jean frowns more at that, knowing he's right but not liking it one bit. She also knows she can tell better than anyone who would be lying and who wouldn't be.

Shaking her head, ]

Eggsy is a good guy. We can trust him.

[ She knows it. However... ]

Not that sure about the others, though. I don't really know them.