(open) back to ordinary

[sparsity]

Who: mikazuki augus (sparsity) & various & you!
What: october plot - open prompts, closed starters.
When: various days in october.
Where: olympia & thesa.
Warning(s): violence, probably murder.

I. YOU'VE GROWN OUT OF US

[ All things considered, the events leading up to Olympia's current state are familiar in the way the lay of a skeleton is familiar, flesh stripped from bone, the impression of something once whole. Bare joints exposed, a working order, if not quite... right. Explosions rocking a populated area, terrified people, dubious claims opening up a chasm of blame for anyone free to explore. It leaves too much to people he doesn't trust. Too much like the colonies he saw falsely accused.

Years ago and yet fresh again, for all the subtleties he doesn't understand about it. All he knows is that people are ready to fight.

Mikazuki isn't really the vigilante sort, though he's moving through the streets of Olympia like he is, eyes trained and alert as he glances down alleyways he passes, storefronts and establishments a little too dark. He's most familiar with the marketplace, as much as he's a familiar face there too. All its corners have been thrown with smoke, illness, and shadow. Electricity is in the air, the same sort after the announcement. Mikazuki tastes it as he rounds the bars he knows, looking no where near old enough to enter one and now not marked by Ashti's stone or uniform to signify he's patrolling them, instead dressed in somber neutrals.

His pace only slows when he comes across one of the posters strewn about the city, wide things pasted sideways to the front of a building. Broad daylight, people around, hunters, accomplices. None of that matters. Only the face on it matters, a boy no older than himself, blocky angles and friendly eyes.

Reaching up, he scrapes his nails across its topmost edge and tears it off, crumpling the pieces in his palms. To anyone within earshot that may have stopped in light of his display, he passes a glance to. ]

What?

[ Polite, as always. ]

II. AND YOU'VE BEEN DYING TO GO

[ Every so often, the liveliness of Olympia drives Mikazuki to space. Not because of the noise, but because the conflict this time isn't his noise. It's not Tekkadan, not their conflict, save for those here with him now in the crossfire again. That's the only loyalty he owes, the only allegiance he has. Except this one thing.

Show us we can trust you.

Those words shadow his footsteps as he makes his way through Thesa and into the hangar, the chilly smell of alloy and fuel stinging pleasantly in his nose. He knows his way by heart now, just like he knows his way by heart through the stasis units on Alria to the one he visits day after day. It's quiet up here, compared to the surface below. There's an odd shuttle that takes off or docks in a whir of hydraulics, the natural shift and boom of metal, even at rest. But it's not any of the mass produced training machines that he's focused on as his footsteps thud across the catwalk lining the hangar perimeter, secured in front of the mobile suits. No, it's farther down that he focuses on, where the makes of suits starts to shift. Eventually, he slows next to a hulking white machine, crowned and clawed in gold. ]

Sleeping like usual. [ With no one else around him, he's actually addressing the suit. Hands in pockets, his gaze travels up and up, settling on its clean, quiet face plate. Repaired from that moment he was brought, breathing, to Thesa. ] I wonder what you'd want to do about this, too.

[ ...if there was any doubt that he's legitimately talking to a robot. ]

(ooc. closed starters below, if you'd like something specific feel free to hit me up here, rivalry, or axia#4656!)

Comments

[sparsity]

[ It's fine for him, if they don't want to talk first. Talk is cheap, when there's prize money on his family's head. Whether or not it's entirely these peoples' doing, he doesn't know. If they're the first of many rungs that climb high, he'll simply knock them out, step by step. Takasugi's blade appears and Mikazuki sees it — he's trained to see it, the torrential violence that follows the draw of a weapon. It creates its own light in the dim space. Once the blades clash and Mikazuki hears the familiar impact of steel against flesh, he's looking to the rest of the group.

He still smells fire but it's the glow pouring from one, a woman, that has his attention. It glimmers from her, turning her skin a lucid blue as it wreathes toward her ally, beginning to staunch blood and knit flesh. He has to move after that now that he recognizes healing magic, darting from into the alley with his gun drawn. Her face draws tight with fear as he swings his arm up and fires, a bite of muzzle flash appearing. Her nimbleness makes the shot hit her arm, but it stops the spell well enough.

Mikazuki advances when blood spatters the ground, driving her back into the third culprit. A swell of orange light starts, smoke rising. ]

[shikomizue]

[Assailant crumpled at his feet, and the other two distant, Takasugi rescinds the lightness of his feet to a short, skirting shift of position, passing the dying man until they're shoulder to shoulder - one standing tall and the other shaking with the throes of death.

The glow that fills the alley overtakes the gleam of his sword completely; Takasugi's eye only widens, pupil shrinking to adjust to the light and the unfamiliarity of the energy. It comes without the hovering of rock, the empty turn of the stomach, that accompanies a larger energy blast.

Which only makes him more wary.

Following the light from source to target, however, Takasugi's apprehension is soon replaced with delight.

As the spell is interrupted, Mikazuki's reflexes snapping in the same moment as Takasugi's realization, he raises his foot to plant it squarely in the half-healed chest of the man on the ground. With an absent swipe of his sword he knocks the grounded weapon away.

They now have a hostage.

Though that may make no difference. Tendrils of smoke thicken to one plume, light solidifying into something more recognizable. Fire, the very flames that consumed the door just blocks away, now swirls between the hands of the third fugitive.

But there are two targets, and the mage is forced to make a choice. One which prioritizes woman, her magic more valuable to both him and his felled ally - the flash of light illuminates the alley, shadows climbing high around them, as the spell is hurled at Mikazuki.

Accompanying it is Takasugi's sword, thrown the moment the spell was cast, to lodge in the shoulder of the threat - though not soon enough to stop the fire from spiraling through the air.]

[sparsity]

[ Mikazuki feels the intent of the attack before he fully sees the fire spell coalesce. That's always been his role. Take the brunt, deal it back. Magic is still beyond him, but a hit is a hit and he has about three seconds to decide what to do with it after the culprit releases it, staggered by Takasugi's sword.

His footsteps go clattering over the roar of flame — a sprint forward that has him ripping his jacket from his body in the same instance. Arcing his arm horizontally, he throws the thick fabric in front of his advance, the brunt of the spell colliding with it in a flash. It wrecks the material instantly, turning it to brittle char. Mikazuki feels the intense heat of it flowing across his skin, smearing his cheeks with sooty discharge, but the pain dulls under his own movement, the heave of adrenaline that has him throwing the jacket to the ground and charging out from behind it. In the same movement, he lifts his arm and fires again.

His shot hits this time, right in the side of the mage's forehead. The man's neck snaps to, an unnatural motion before he crumples to the ground. Pivoting, that same crescent-like motion of his arm swings his gun about to aim at the healer. Glowing ash drifts lazily through the air from his jacket as he goes deathly still, gun locked on her. ]

Don't move.

[shikomizue]

[Watching reflexes uncoil, movement too fast, too acute in it's effectiveness to be pre-established, Takasugi's impressed hum is inaudible between the crackling embers of fabric and the echo of a gunshot.

No hesitation to kill, enemy slain not in brutality but with finality that suits one who has long since decided to let their hands be stained with blood.

The man at Takasugi's feet groans, voice cracking as he tries to speak to the healer. His words are a garbled mess, but from the way his hand twitches and slides against the ground, he gathers it's some sort of signal to run.

Except it's way too late for that.

Frozen in her place, the woman's scowl grows deeper, distress written clearly on her face. One comrade dead, the other dying, her only hope of saving a life is to stay.]

Answer me, and we'll let you heal him. [A grind of his heel, to indicate just who he's talking about. Offer extended, Takasugi raises his hand, palm up for Mikazuki to return his sword at the earliest chance.]

[sparsity]

[ With his eyes trained on the healer with dominating force, Mikazuki allows his threat to sink in like teeth before flicking his gaze to Takasugi's gesture. Confident that she won't run, he reaches aside to grip the sword and dislodge it from flesh and bone with the sickening sound of suction against expiring muscle. Arm locked and gun pointed, Mikazuki ventures from his spot to hand the sword back.

Across from him, the woman is glowing a faint, dark blue color, her own magic roiling pointlessly within her. For the rush of noise and motion that'd battered the alleyway just seconds prior, the way it had just as quickly calmed to a whisper is eerie. But Mikazuki prefers it that way.

A fight free of attrition. With no choice but compliance, the healer speaks through gritted teeth. ]

Answer what?

[shikomizue]

[Mikazuki's leering is unwavering. A steady hand, an arm that doesn't lower, is far more dangerous - far more credible a promise - than shaking nerves or seething anger.

When Mikazuki fires, the bullet will hit true.

Takasugi takes his sword with slowly coiling fingers, every motion a display for the woman to watch. Tension drawn out, and the man's breaths under his feet growing shallower by the heave, she's left with nothing but urgency.

And it isn't a coincidence when Takasugi's sword falls to his side, hovering above the man's neck.] Where were you headed? ['Who do you work for?' 'What are you trying to do?' and 'How many of you are there?' could all be answered by following the vermin to their source.]

[sparsity]

[ With a grip that doesn't seem like it'll ever tire, Mikazuki keeps his aim steady. He's of two parts in this, his overt role keeping his gaze fixed on the woman he's prepared to kill at any moment. Despite his focus, he's got one ear on Takasugi too. He makes no secret of that, presence filling up the spaces between all the bodies involved. The healer heaves a colorless laugh at the question, all of its emotion now seeped into the angry, incandescent hue of her skin. ]

Where? To the hideout, of course! But they've gone and moved it already... [ Another chuckle skitters out of her. ] Moves all the time. It just wasn't supposed to be that quick. Not until all you got involved.

[ Brows ticking, Mikazuki chances a flicker of a glance away from her. ]

[shikomizue]

[A weapon in his hand and a weapon at his side, looking to him in what he'd fancy to be deferment. But that's not a factor Takasugi cares to test now, lazy gaze locked on the woman glowing with rage.

Inconvenient, to show one's hand like that.] That's too bad. If it's moved, you don't know where it is. [His grip tightens on his blade.]

Or am I wrong? [The look he gives her is pointed, broken by a glance to the man underfoot, and the cocked trigger to his side.]

[sparsity]

[ That seems to give her an honest start, watching the subtle flicker of Takasugi's blade hovering like a threat. Almost moreso than the level of Mikazuki's arm which hasn't budged an inch since he settled into his stance opposite her. A bullet kills faster, but he's making himself the quieter enemy, the staying hand rather than the killing one. Takasugi's bid for a reaction is successful, at any rate. ]

Wait! That's the truth! You think we'd be scurrying around the streets like this otherwise? Like rats?

[ A term familiar to Mikazuki, though his expression is both as plain and as inscrutable as it ever is. ]

[shikomizue]

[She makes a good point, and her revulsion begets her honesty alongside her desperation. But Takasugi doesn't spare her his stare, even as his blade twists just enough to catch the light glowing from the woman herself.]

I see. You won't be able to lead us there yourself, then.

[The woman's knowledge may be exhausted, but Takasugi's resources aren't - the interrogation isn't over.]

Any hints you can give us to find it on our own?

[Another glance to Mikazuki. Takasugi doesn't doubt his patience, his discipline, but he does doubt the youth's interest in secret rooms and vague maps drawn by panic.

He'll be sure his partner gets his prize in the end, for his trouble.]

[sparsity]

[ Her teeth grit in a spark, that slow, agonizing grind of deteriorating options. ]

A place in Wyver. Doesn't move, but the people there do. You hear all sorts of things there. 'Cause, you know. When the door's open, birds come and go as they please. Sing sometimes, too.

[ Though the admittance had been a hard sell, once she starts she seems to have an easier time just coming out with it. Mikazuki's brows knit, not immediately likening the description to anywhere that suited what Takasugi was looking for. ]

Birds?

[shikomizue]

[Mikazuki is as sharp as he is aloof; he's picked up on exactly what's piqued Takasugi's interest. His eyebrows raise, a lingering glance - and smile - cast towards his companion.

For confirmation, and intimidation.]

Following singing birds won't get us anywhere but lost, in the jungle.

Tell me more. He's confident that he can find the place based on this much alone, but for the sake of cutting her friend, and her, down, he'll press and press until there's nothing left.]

[sparsity]

[ Attuned to the unspoken, Mikazuki barely has to catch the look passed to him to shift his heel on the cobblestone, arm giving the barest twinge of movement as if to amplify the pressure even from a distance. She's visibly nervous now that the weight of betrayal is upon her too. ]

Not for birds who have a home. A cage, nice and gold. Why chase birds when there are dragons around? That's what Cree always said... the bastard.

[ An explanation for its location in Wyver territory. Mikazuki looks aside now, silent. ]

We done?

[shikomizue]

[Oh, a name. Now that's something.

Takasugi's lips spread, baring teeth no longer smiling - sharp and voracious. He stares, the woman not dire in his eyes but captured. Prey.

To clench in his maw, crack bone and shake until every shake and shudder of breath is gone.]

Aa. [His wrist twists his blade, arm raising.] We're done. [He gives no signal to Mikazuki - only the downward swing of his blade in an arc that's more than necessary to kill. Steel severs skin and arteries clean, blood splattering from his sword and the man's neck alike in his follow through.

His companion has only a moment to do as he wishes with the woman, before Takasugi would close the distance and cut her down himself.]

[sparsity]

[ It's a moment seized when she cries out and lunges on instinct, Mikazuki's own reflexes acting just a few seconds faster. His arm cocks and he fires, the recoil straining his wrist in the brief flash of muzzle fire. His aim is true, a bullet burying itself in her skull with a dull thud and a minuscule pop of blood. She crumples, the motion of it a swift, simple thing.

Only a rivulet of smoke rises from the alleyway, the color of life and magic and sound now drained from it.

For his part, Mikazuki's expression is unreadable. The act was just as it was, without regret or glee or glory. He feels loyalty to no one here, and he's put off honor time and time again in his life.

He can do without it a while longer. ]

[shikomizue]

[The gun's flash dampens the glow of the woman's magic, sharp ricochet of sound in the alley confirming that the blue light has been snuffed cold.

Sunset spills, not violent red but the gentle hue of waxing night, between the buildings, dust disturbed by the woman's body swirling in its weak rays.

Takasugi flicks the blood from his sword before sheathing it, and only after he's stepped over the body of his slain does he cast a glance, almost curious, to in Mikazuki's direction.] Did you get what you wanted?

[sparsity]

[ His body unlocks, a long, unwinding twist of tendon and muscle. When his arm lowers, his expression creases without growing any darker or lighter — only in consideration of the question. Now that his target is gone, his attention isn't quite anywhere. ]

One less person in my way.

[ It's not going to change Shino's situation. He would still stand accused.

But less opposition is less opposition. ]

[shikomizue]

[Three less, really.] Aa.

You have more work to do. [Striding over a corpse, another stepping stone in a path forged of bone and metal, has never been quite so emotionless as Mikazuki sounds.

Elating. Exhausting. To know that another has been claimed by vengeance or necessity. To know that there are countless more, and that this death hardly matters. It fills a crack in the road that could have been bounded over.

But, with a place and a name, this instance isn't quite so inconsequential as so many others.] I'll be in contact.

[No reason to linger - the city guard (those on duty, to exempt Mikazuki) could clean up the mess. Takasugi steps past both Mikazuki and the woman's corpse, not a glance spared over his shoulder.]