#arrvee

Departure of the Mothermen team from Fairco had historically been an event of some ceremony.  Captain W_A was always very keen on ‘showing support to your boys. What with us keeping you all safe and snug down in here.’  

S_R had put a stop to that. They have a fucking job to do, and it wasn’t running a damn parade.

The current preparations are more of a circus than he is happy with, but he has to admit that the chaos is… less than it might have been.  Arranging field kits for seven people – the three Mothermen themselves, and four AGRIs – as well as Reclamation gear, weapons and camp-rolls should, by all experiences he had had so far in this damn place, have been an abject nightmare to achieve.

Yet this time S_R finds himself bizarrely unopposed. Requisitions completed.  Maintenance checks done, in a timely fashion. Paperwork actually filled in.

It is weird.  And unsettlingly… welcome.

Most of the little group is now congregated just outside the main door, carefully passing out packs and distributing equipment.  The AGRIs aren’t new to this sort of work, but it’s infrequent enough that there is an unconcealed air of excitement about them, and S_R ignores the snatches of conversation that rumble on around him, predicting riches and possible treasures. It isn’t riches he expects to find in that chlorinated tomb, unless bleached, rotting concrete really does it for you.  But they don’t know that. Don’t need to know that.

The small canister containing Halstead’s damn battery seems to weigh unaccountably heavily against his side, shoved deep into one uniform pocket, and S_R tries to shakes off the leaden mood as he looks up towards the non-haulage parts of the team.

[S_R] You carry your own fucking kit.  So you might want to get to picking one.

R_V takes a deep breath and takes the step from cold metal onto the grass just outside. He strides towards the equipment in a pile by the Captain, making a point of nudging past his injured arm to collect a rucksack and sling it over his shoulder.

[R_V] Are you sure you don’t need someone to carry your kit too, Captain? You know, after the accident you had in the gym you should have more issue than usual.

He smirks and turns from the group to see the world outside of the Facility; the smirk quickly turns into a frown as his eyes dart from trees to plants to lake.

[R_V] Regardless, we should be on our way. Try not to hold us up too much Captain - see to it that he doesn't, hmm, C_K?

Forest green eyes narrow at the former astronaut as he purposefully brushes past the Captain’s injured arm. For the moment C_K say nothings. Merely adding it to the mental list of lashes to take out of R_V’s hide later. There would most certainly be a later. Gaze lowering, he picks up one of the packs and briefly checks through it. There is no doubt in his mind that S_R would have gone through them and checked at least five times, but his Captain had taught him to be thorough. And so he was going to check until satisfied.

[C_K] The Captain’s arm is well on the way to recovery. I for one am impressed.

A slight raise of his eyebrows but soon followed by a docile little smile, cocking his head slightly to one side as he pats R_V on the shoulder in a friendly manner.*

[C_K] But be assured I’ll keep an eye on him. With your good self on our team, I’m sure we’ll get there in no time.

He’s pleased that manages to sound genuine, despite the bile rising at the mere sight of the man.*

R_V glances at his shoulder and back to C_K, his scowl quickly becoming a grin after the compliment.

[R_V] Your medical knowledge may be lacking, I am however impressed by your optimism C_K, and rightfully so.

Another smug, chrome smile breaks out across his face as he places his hands on his hips just as he posed for his posters as he addresses the AGRI-Wards, a brief glance at S_R also..

[R_V] Well then, no time like the present - keep close to the Mothermen Extraction Unit at all times, do not attempt to flee, failure to comply will result in injury or expiration.

[Sage] No worryin’ Commander. Done this sorta thing before. We gotcha!

She lightly cuffs R_V on the arm, grinning broadly.

[Sage] Though if yer offerin’ t’stay close, I ain’t sayin’ no.

[S_R] If you’ve quite finished?

He glares daggers at R_V as he grabs the nearest pack, swinging it into place with minimal difficulty. That he totally hasn’t been practising. At all.

[S_R] We’ll hit the first waypoint around noon.  R_V, since you’re so fucking keen to show off, you can put your muscle where your mouth is and take a Rec bag as well.

R_V bends down at the pile again, slinging another bag over his shoulder. He stands again with arms held out, taunting S_R.

[R_V] Why of course Captain, you certainly won’t be able to carry it. In a way me carrying more will help you heal. It was lifting that injured you in the first place, after all.

He again glances from his arm and this time to Sage, he gives the woman a look of disgust.

[R_V] Close, S_G. Not that close.

Sage shrugs.

[Sage] Suit yerself. *She grabs a couple of packs, turning back to the AGRI group, and another amused rumble runs the circuit*.

[S_R] I am very aware of what ‘injured’ me. *His free hand twitches a little, but he swallows whatever other retort was rising, and his expression cools again.*

[S_R] Right. Let’s get this over with.

-

The journey falls into routine quickly.  S_R or C_K lead, familiar as they are with the route through the canyons and trackways that surround Fairco; one at the head of the party and one at the rear, swapping periodically with a brief exchange of update.  Mismatched stares of forest-green and black amber rove constantly; observing, watching. Wary even in this known path. The AGRI group are far less cautious - chatting, joking, occasionally stopping to grab handfuls of recognised weeds or herbs and stuff them into waiting pockets - but other than a few sharp rebukes when they get too loud, S_R mostly ignores this.

They reach the first waypoint indeed a little after noon. It’s a natural clearing in the woodlands either side, where thin soil and slabs of weathered surface rock have held back the trees, and there is a smooth stone set into the ground in the centre. Man-high, clad thickly with moss, and with unfamiliar symbols half-visible beneath the green layer.

S_R eyes the distinctly un-State marker with a faint flicker of something approaching discomfort. A reminder, that this borderland area was always at the very edge of Mother’s sight, and now…  He shakes off the mood and turns back to the group. The AGRIs have settled down, unwrapping the first of their ration packs, and S_R catches C_K’s eye; nodding.

Now.

[S_R] Commander. Time for another line on your arm: Recruitment posts.

[R_V] Recruitment posts, Captain? Is that how you ended up here? Random squabble amongst the wild? The quality shows.

S_R’s teeth grit and he leans in a little closer, dropping his voice slightly.

[S_R] You might think this is all a big joke, space-boy, but if I have to drag. You. Screaming. Into being a damned competent officer, then I fucking will.

[S_R] Now.

[S_R] Monitoring recruitment posts is going to be something you’d better get real interested in, really quickly. Because scraping starved Wards off branded landscape is very fucking dull.

R_V raises his brows briefly and smirks at S_R, hands behind his back he stands to attention.

[R_V] Competence and compliant are two things I learned to be way before the rank of officer Captain, perhaps this explains you - again.

R_V throws the bags he was carrying against the foot of a tree, kneeling down carefully beside them to retrieve a ration pack.

[R_V] Regardless Captain - this task shall be trivial.

[S_R] Then it should suit you completely.

C_K has been watching over proceedings with a keen gaze. Following his Captain’s orders silently and constantly, but subtly, checking over R_V and planning how to do this. They already have something set in stone, but plans change and the Ward is still very unsure of R_V. The man could be capable of anything. As soon as the former astronaut’s back is turned, C_K’s demeanour changes dramatically. Slipping from docile and compliant to something predatory. His movements are fluid and almost cat-like as he moves over to where Oak is sat (the large Agri who had taken a shine to him at the Blue Moon Ball) and retrieves the bag he needs, with a smile that was more of a baring of teeth than anything pleasant.*

[C_K] The Captain and I will be showing the new recruit how to monitor the Recruitment posts. You and Sage can keep an eye on things, yeah?

The large Agriward grins widely and pats C_K hard on the back before affectionately ruffling his hair. Something C_K kind of wishes he hadn’t done, but… He supposes it’s an Agri thing.*

[O_K] Don’ you worry, Seekay. I’m good at watchin’.

A brief smile that is gentler than the one before.*

[C_K] Good.

A nod, before that predatory grace is back and he moves to stand at S_R’s injured left side, slightly behind. Shoulders rolled back and standing to attention. Waiting.*

[S_R] Right, let’s get this farce moving again.

He strides off into the treeline, making for a trodden-in path amongst the undergrowth. Not as flat as the road, and with whip-like fronds of this year’s growth edging in from the sides.  

R_V follows, brushing vines and loose leaves and branches from his path with a look of disgust on his face.

The small clearing falls away behind them and is soon lost in the blur of trees.  There are few animal noises on the main road - a party with AGRIs in it does not lend well to stealth or naturalism - but with the three Mothermen alone, moving carefully, rustles and small sounds come back, filtering towards them as they walk.

R_V nervously glances around at each chirp of a bird or snap of a twig underfoot, a gloved hand resting on the hilt of a small dagger he carries with him on his belt.

[R_V] Quite a trek for a recruitment post is it not Brothers, amongst all these hideous trees - Tell me what kind of people do you expect to find around here?

[S_R] If we’re lucky? None. The last fucking thing we need is to be dragging some gibbering wreckage around with us.  Present company excluded, for professional courtesy.

He ducks under a low-hanging branch, letting it go behind him close enough to waft past R_V’s face.

[S_R] Wards, mostly. The broadcasts go out with co-ordinates, same as on the posters. And whatever flyover littering drops Hawkins has done recently. The Civs have fucked off, on the whole, or got their acts together a long way away from here, and Citizens are Mister Fairfax’s problem right up until they’re ours.

He glances back at R_V, sneering.

[S_R] So wasn’t it nice for you we pulled you out of that shithole directly?  Or you’d have been hanging around in these ‘hideous trees’...

[R_V] I would much rather bring back a Brother or Sister of the Chain that have to suffer another moment of conversation with a Citizen -

R_V trips over a loose root and stumbles forward, he disguises his fall by swiftly kicking the top off a nearby mushroom and glancing at the others.

[R_V] I may find the outdoors… disgusting, but I would have survived without your so called assistance - I’m not so sure about Mr. Vesalius however.

[S_R] While I’m not sure you can die from a lack of moustache wax - I think we have to agree on that.

C_K follows the other two silently, keeping one ear on the bickering - making sure his Captain isn’t being too antagonistic; yet - while the rest of his attention strays this way and that, drawn by the rustling in their surroundings.  He’s quite aware that out of the three of them, he is the only one who actually enjoys spending time outside the FAC’s walls, the only one whose glances after nearby scuttling noises is from curiosity, rather than wariness.  He likes these trips.  And this particular one has been coming for a while...

The small group continues for about ten more minutes, taking the occasional side track. There is no signposting here now, no visible landmarks past the shading autumn patchwork of the trees. No obvious path back to the road, if you didn’t already know the way.

It is - in short - perfect.

S_R stops, grunts, and lets his pack slide to the floor.  He tightens his free hand against his bound arm and grimaces slightly with apparent pain.

R_V looks around at the thick woodland around them, looking out for a road or path or clearing, finding none.

[R_V] Well this seems like the perfect spot to set up a watchpost. If a poor Citizen were to find themselves out here they’d never survive before we got to them. It’d make our job a lot easier.

[S_R] Oh, it does.

There is a click; a soft, metal noise that nonetheless manages to cut across every other sound in the clearing, and an abrupt point of threatening pressure settles against the back of R_V’s head.  When S_R speaks again, the earlier strain has gone from his voice, replaced with liquid threat.

[S_R] Don’t move, Commander.  Twitch, or try anything - anything - and I’ll blow your brains all over this wretched clearing.  We’re in the ass end of nowhere.  No witnesses; no chalked-up leeches to tattle on my misdeeds.  

R_V freezes in place, tensing his body, he clenches his fists and growls before raising his hands slowly, defeated after thinking about the gun to his head.

[S_R] I could kill you now, right where you stand, and I swear on Mother’s rotting heart it’s a tempting fucking option.

[S_R] But.

The Captain’s other hand - freed from the brace that now lies discarded on the leafy floor - jerks up, bunching his gloved fingers roughly in R_V’s hair, and pulls the bigger man’s head back more firmly against the pistol barrel.  S_R leans forward, the closeness of the raised threat only slightly diminished by the fact that he’s speaking into R_V’s shoulder rather than his ear.

[S_R] You want to be a Motherman, Arr-Vee?  Then you’re going to fucking learn when, and when not, to throw that bulk around. On. My. Orders.

[S_R] So. In the spirit of camaraderie, Brotherhood, and all that other rancid garbage you lap right up - I have a test for you.

C_K becomes as still as a statue. Eyes sharp as cut emeralds as he simply watches his Captain grapple with the taller man. The only movement for the moment a twitch of his lips into a slight smirk when S_R is not quite tall enough to make his movements as dramatic as he clearly desires. A sigh and a roll of his eyes as the brace is dropped to the ground. Movements liquid as he steps forward without fear and ducks down to pick up the brace. Turning slightly to S_R as he speaks in a lowered tone and with narrowed eyes*

[C_K] If you fuck up your Chain-Damned arm just because you wanted to be a melodramatic little shit, I will be displeased, Sir.

He steps back and turns swiftly on his heel to walk around the two men until he is facing R_V. His smile wide and welcoming, but there is something vicious in his eyes. Spiteful.

[C_K] Doing okay there, brother? I really wouldn’t move, he’s not kidding, you know. I wouldn’t call our esteemed Captain trigger happy, but he’s a man of his word.

R_V looks sickly white with fear.  He glares at C_K as the man approaches, his body still stiffly locked in place and then begins to nervously laugh.

[R_V] You know I think you might be right for once Brother C_K.  Now tell me S_R - is the bullet with my name on it even in the chamber? I doubt it is - if I recall I remember seeing it tucked neatly into that little ammo pouch of yours -

R_V slowly lowers his left hand to remove the small knife from his belt, tossing it to the ground in front of C_K, his pale smirk now faded he carefully presses his legs together tightly to conceal the small dagger hilt in his boot.

[R_V] Since I don’t really have a choice I’ll entertain this game or test or whatever you want to call it Captain, spit it out.

S_R laughs, but just once.  A low, rough single bark of something only slightly akin to amusement.

[S_R] You think I’ve only made one bullet for you?  R_V, you’ve got a whole fucking clip.

[S_R] Now, you’re going to walk slowly over to that big - *a pause, only slight, as a flick of uncertainty enters S_R’s voice* - ‘...beech tree - ‘

[C_K] *mutters, under his breath* That’d be an oak, Captain.

[S_R] ...big tree over there, and get your back against it.

R_V lets out a quick laugh at C_K’s correction before turning quickly to face S_R.  The barrel of the gun presses against his forehead.

[R_V] Smart man, you’ll need more than one bullet Captain.

R_V’s face is expressionless, he lingers for a moment staring down S_R before slowly walking backwards to the tree, finally pressing his back against it.

S_R’s teeth grind together audibly.  It would be nice if the overgrown moron could scrape together brains enough to look worried when he had a fucking gun to his head.  He locks gaze with the bigger man, black amber on unearthly-blue, and there’s a gravity in his fingers, as if the trigger beneath his touch is hauling itself backwards.

It’s easy.  He knows it’s easy.  He’s pulled this same damn trigger enough times.  He -

The rasp of failing mechanical tones; harsh and skipping like a Citizen’s broken record player, but still damnably clear enough.

I would - have looked you - in the eyes, Commander...’

S_R jerks slightly as the memory breaks, trying to cover his slip with a snarl.

[S_R] C_K. Rope. Now.

There is a moment in which C_K looks worried. Glancing over at S_R as his Captain seems to malfunction for a second. A brief furrow of his brow before he is lowering his head and hooding his eyes; the expression vanishing. He is very carefully blank. Something that his Captain would recognise, but hopefully R_V will not notice.*

[C_K] Yes, Captain. Right away, Sir.

His tone is as yielding as his body language. A Good Ward following the orders of his superior. His gaze almost glassy as he approaches R_V, unravelling the ropes between his hands. There is a slight edge of guilt piercing his chest for correcting S_R about the tree. They need to be a unified team, he can’t be seen to be insubordinate.*

[C_K] Hold still, kid… Would hate to have to ruin the glamour of all those posters of yours.

[R_V] Very good little dog, follow your master's orders.

R_V leans slightly into C_K’s neck as he wraps the rope around him, a wicked smile on his face.  With his eyes fixated on S_R over C_K’s shoulder still, he whispers in his ear.

[R_V] I really do hope the good Captain here has taught you how to properly tie a knot. You wouldn’t like to see what might happen - or… would you, hmm?

R_V leans back again resting his head against the bark of the tree, one eyebrow now raised as his gaze was now on the man in front of him.

[C_K] ~Whoops.~

The Ward jerks on of the ropes so it slips from around R_V’s chest to his throat. A slight tug to give the impression that he wouldn’t be above choking him for the fun of it. Tight enough to make breathing uncomfortable if not impossible. The risk of rope burn present if he struggled.

[C_K] With all due respect, Sir…

The word Sir spoken like it is filth coating his tongue. With none of the awe it had held when directed at S_R*

[C_K] You harm him again, not even Mother Herself could save you from me

The ropes are tightened and knotted. Bound by his hands, torso and throat. C_K gives a wide grin and pats R_V’s cheek before sauntering back over to his Captain*

R_V squirms uncomfortably, trying to ease the pressure of the rope against his neck and hands.  Angrily he stares down the two smaller Wards and spits on the ground in their direction, rather than risk trying to speak.

S_R keeps the gun pointed at R_V for a few more seconds, focusing on the welcome sight of that damn face twisted in discomfort for once.  Bringing himself back to now, back to here.  He’d seen C_K’s glance, knew the man had noticed his own lapse, but… he could live with that.  As long as R_V hadn’t.

When he’s confident enough that his hand won’t shake while he does it, S_R holsters the weapon, and gives R_V one last, withering glance.

[S_R] Now, be a good little lickspittle and try not to throttle yourself until we get back.  If anyone’s going to choke you, I’d like it to be me -

S_R stops, glaring aside as he hears the muttered ‘oh really, Captain?’ from C_K, then continues.

[S_R] Now, you’ve got a nice, long time to think about your position in this unit R_V.  I suggest you think real fucking hard about where your loyalties lie.

[S_R] Have a good couple of days, Commander.

[S_R] And hope we don’t find ourselves… delayed.

With that, the two free Mothermen pick up their packs, and head back the way they came.

*By the time her thin, trembling legs sneak over the threshold of the Mothermen Quarters it is well past association, the hour of curfew draws closer but this is something she has to do. If only to curry favour, if only because the hierarchy of Fairco demands it.

*She holds the sealed envelope in a hand marked with an 'X', her arm stretches out to the door which knowingly contains two of the three Mothermen. There is a single, weak rap. With a squeak and a swallowed yelp the Unward jumps back. Her eyes glance down to the envelope that had been thrown at her feet. In a scratchy handwriting only the Ward's name was written: 'R_V'. She holds out the scrap of paper towards the door, hoping the right Mothermen would answer.

*Its contents are only a slither of pink continuous stationary, one side vaguely printed with statistics and snippets of random information, ghosts of imprinted remarks dotted along the margins. The other side blank, save for a few words in the same handwriting as the envelope.

Commander,

We have something to discuss. Meet me in the morgue. Come alone and make sure you aren't followed. This will be lucrative for both of us, I assure you.

Holding you in high regard,

C. Halstead.

*The sound of a chair screeching against the floor emanates from the room, followed by hurried bootfall, the door swings open and the Commander answers, followed by the blur of a clerk rushing out of the room.

[R_V] It is well beyond association hours now, Unsister, I’m not going to sign anything els- a letter? I suppose you are the replacement for the trembling runt they usually send.

*R_V snatches the letter from her and skims over it quickly before crunching the paper into a ball, giving it back to her with a grin on his face.

[R_V] Destroy this, do not read it and do not tell anyone you delivered it - and I might just sign something for you after all, Unsister - Wouldn’t you like that?

*The little Unward cannot contain her fear at the sight of the Commander. She doesn't hide the panicked mewl escaping her lips. Both her hands clasp in front of her chest, eyes lowering she cowers into herself hoping to avoid a physical confrontation.

*The crumpled file lands in the palm of her hand, she closes it weakly but nods vigorously.

[Unward] It is as you want, Brother. I'll do as you ask!

*To stipulate her words her one hand joins the other already shredding the crumpled ball into illegible scraps. She looks to the side, to her escape.

[Unward] With your permission I'll complete this task for you immediately, Brother, Sir!

[R_V] Smart girl, now move out of my way.

*R_V slams the door loudly behind him, grinning to himself at the thought of it disturbing the captain’s sleep, he barges passed the unward and makes his way towards the morgue.

*Level 5, reserved for laboratories, research equipment - and the morgue. It is cold in the morgue, its temperature further reflected by the icy sheen of thoroughly cleaned metal and ceramics - after all diseases start with death. There is no sound aside from the soft hum of the cooling system barring all heat from the room and the lazy trickle of some liquid.

*The room is disquieting with a large wall of cold chambers stacked like body-sized filing cabinets, each one identical to the next save for two of which the handles are marked with a label. In front of those are two metal morgue slabs, slightly concave and complete with a drainage system.

*Only one of them is occupied with a body, neatly covered under a nigh on clean, white cloth. Only a few specks of red blotch the fabric around the wrists.

*Chase stands near the sink, washing several tools, drying them and neatly organizing them on a wheeled table. Perceptible breath filters through her medical mask, it dissipates almost instantaneously. With her hair done up in a presentable bun and uniform clean of noticeable stains it’s clear that she is expecting someone to drop in.

*R_V stands at the doorway, studying the room, his eyes drawn to the bloodied cloth covering the body in the middle of the room, slowly he steps in with his arms folded behind his back.

[R_V] It’s far beyond the time for association, Miss Halstead, however I don’t quite think that applies to people in our position.

*Chase looks up at the sound of the thick, insulated door opening, her shoulders stiffen as a reflex but when it is only R_V who enters she relaxes again, flicking her gloved hands towards the sink before drying them. She turns back, noting the reaction of the Motherman for a few moments.

[Halstead] Evening, Commander. I figured it was time we finally met — officially. The locale doesn't bother you, I presume?

*R_V makes his way towards the table, lifting the cloth from the upper part of the table, revealing a deceased unward, he tilts the lifeless head from side to side with his hand before pulling the sheet over it again.

[R_V] Hum, not at all Miss Halstead, It is my understanding from the letter you had delivered you have something for me?

*She follows his movements with interest, showing little emotion in the meantime.

[Halstead] Aren't we impatient ones? Good things come to those who wait, Commander. Or was that a lesson you never learned as a babe?

*She waves the comment away quickly.

[Halstead] But yes, we have something to discuss. Namely my safety. A lot of things have changed since you and your lot arrived here, even more with the Ball. I feel… unsafe in Fairco. As one of the few capable people in charge of my security I figured I give talking to you a shot. We both know the two-toned disaster is really just a gerbil behind a megaphone and Seekay… turn the situation however you want he'll never get any say in what'll go on around here, leaving me with you and a few wheezy urchins.

*He chuckles at her comments and turns to her with a smile.

[R_V] Two-toned disaster… I like that.

*R_V begins to pace around the room slowly again, idly glancing and prodding at cabinets, documents and tags.

[R_V] It is my duty to ensure that this facility and its staff come to no… unnatural harm, Miss Halstead

*R_V glances to the wrist injury on the arm poking out of the sheet, and raises an eyebrow*

[R_V] You seem to have the Facilitators favour, and so long as you are not a threat to this facility I can’t think why you might come to any harm - under MY protection.

*Chase leans back against the wall, eyes following the pacing man. She scoffs lightly. Her voice drops into monotone, she seeks his eyes.

[Halstead] What if it's Laurence I have to be protected from?

*R_V stops, he turns his head and his gaze meets her, there is a brief pause of silence.

[R_V] Given any direct order from the Facilitator would mean I must comply - perhaps all of your time spent around corpses is making you paranoid, Miss Halstead. Now why did you send for me?

[Halstead] I'll let your remark slip by because of ignorance, Commander. I can assure you considering my situation my psych profile is remarkably positive.

*Her voice softens again, she leans away from the wall, pulling the table closer towards herself, fingers delicately stroking metal instruments.

[Halstead] It doesn't mean you should comply to his orders, Commander. I recognize your situation. Once revered and admired for your own self-earned greatness… First chance he got he equalized you. After all isn't your job now basically herding sheep? Isn't it your job to listen to an even bigger sheep? I wonder… Does he refer to you as 'Commander' or 'Essar's bitch' when you're not around? You deserve so much more…

*R_V turns his back to her to hide his annoyance in the form of a scowl, still staring at the wall he speaks through gritted teeth.

[R_V] And what exactly is it you have in mind…

[Halstead] Our Facilitator is a good- … He can be a decent man but he has too much confidence in his own abilities and is blind to his own shortcomings. He has his vices and his issues, you are aware of these. You could snap into a salute and comply to his every whim but why would you? He is a fickle man, Commander. One moment he'll praise you to the stars and back, the next you're suffocating in a pool of your own blood on the floor, begging for his mercy.

*She looks up from her instruments, holding a scalpel and inspecting the tip of the tool.

[Halstead] I'm not asking much, I'm not even asking you do anything. Perhaps only that you realize who would treat you best… A man who took everything from you. Or me — a friend who only looks out for everyone's best interests.

[R_V] And what exactly IS our best interests, Miss Halstead? Do you understand just how much of a risk you have taken by having this conversation?

*R_V makes his way towards the door, pausing as he passes the table to eye the corpse once again, he stops at the doorway and leans against the wall.

[R_V] Tell me Miss Halstead, the purpose of summoning me at this hour with nothing to offer other than an attempt to make me conspire against my Facilitator.

[Halstead] Our own safety from the Facilitator's whims is our best benefit, Commander. We have few rights but the few we have you should hold onto… Health, privacy, freedom… Are you ready to throw all of that into the hands of a 15 year old love-sick pup with a temper to match?

*She moves from her spot, careful to avoid the path of R_V. She stops at one of the cold chambers, fingers hooking behind the handle.  

[Halstead] The game I want you to play isn't called 'insubordination' nor 'conspiracy'. He nor I won't stand for that. He may keep his throne and his authority.  We both owe Laurence a lot… Just not everything. The game I want you to play is to think with your own head. See what the outcome would be and if it would negatively influence something… Yourself, perhaps me? And of course to keep ‘disaster’ from any path. I don't believe in pro-bono so there will be enough in it for you.

*She pulls the drawer open completely. A cloud of cold rolls into the room. She doesn't stop until the entire slab has folded out, showing a small cardboard box at the end of the slab. A gloved finger pushes the box open, just enough for her to see. At the sight of the wine, the box of candied fruit and delicately engraved silver folding comb she turns away from the cold chamber, returning to her spot with her tools.

[Halstead] Don't underestimate my power within this facility. Like the wires in these walls my influence is hidden but it is deep and well-spread. I don't need anything from you, Commander. Only for you to know who'd think of your best interests. Allies are scarce, friends even more so… Capable friends…

*Her voice trails off. Her eyes set themselves on the box and then R_V. Her eyebrows raise momentarily before turning back to the tools on the table.

[Halstead] Is that such a Deadly Sin, Commander Arrvee? To look out for oneself?

*R_V’s eyes follow her around the room and fixate on the box, standing at guard as she opens it, assessing potential threats.

[R_V] Believe me Miss Halstead, I do know a thing or two about self preservation and of its importance.

*He relaxes his body again and turns to place a hand on the handle of the morgues door, he glances over his shoulder at her and then to the box once more.

[R_V] I will bear your warnings in mind, Chastity Halstead - and as for the gift… have the Unward girl bring it to me - If that little Unbrother delivers me another creased letter It’ll be the end of him.

* Chase regards him for a moment, one brow raising in slight confusion. [Halstead] Aren't you one for theatrics… Shall I wrap it in sprightly paper and attach a note from a secret admirer?

*She lowers the mask briefly, if only to showcase a jesting smirk. Her hand moves back towards the table, a light shove rolls it over to the occupied slab where it comes to a halt, carefully placed instruments jumble.

[Halstead] I suggest to you we keep our meetings out of the public eye. I need to keep my reputation of loathing everything Essarr touches… And you need to keep your reputation of a good soldier — at least for now.

*Chase nears the body, a careless gesture of her hand uncovering the upper body of the Unward, showcasing an scraggy Unward staring with glassy eyes up at the ceiling. Pale-grey body covered in angry bruises forming a pattern of restraints upon his limbs, neck and torso. Chase's fingers trail over the handle of the bone saw.

[Halstead] Thank you for your time, Commander. It was a pleasure meeting a remarkable man such as yourself. I hope the significance of our meeting isn't lost…

*R_V raises his brow, curiously looking over the body and the wounds, he nods at Chase before turning the handle.

[R_V] Agreed, appearances and reputations must be maintained - I’ll take this conversation into consideration, be thankful I do not inform the facilitator of this immediately.

*R_V opens it and steps through, he pauses as the door is about to close.

[R_V] And yes, Gift wrapped and ribboned, tagged from a random member of the facility - I cannot have the Captain know we spoke. Good evening, Chastity Halstead.

*Chase watches him with a curious look, the dimple in her one cheek not visible behind the mask. She feigns a weak salute, putting her attention back on the task at hand.

There are some specific challenges faced in the design of the sort of semi-subterranean, often-isolated Facilities that tend to exist this far from Mother’s heartlands. Drainage is one, with the pumps that keep Fairco dry being a background murmuration in the lower levels; sanitation is another, to which the constant patrols of mop-wielding Unwards will attest; and generally maintaining physical fitness amongst FAC-bound personnel is of particular note.

Prevention is better than cure, after all. Mostly because it is cheaper.

The gymnasium on Level Four is a product of this preemptive planning. Technically classified as part medical, and part recreational facility - thus straddling two clerical tracks, with according implications for Due Sum attribution -  the gym is bright, and clean, and carefully managed.  Calisthenic schedules are posted weekly on the notice board inside, in the near-print quality angular hand of the Clerks - times, activities, requirements and exclusions - and adhered to with the attendant obedience of FAC staff.

Two hours of moderate activity per week, per person, unless otherwise specified in section four, five or seven-b.  Hygienic practice to be maintained at all times. Towel hire, post-activity showering and wear on the equipment will be Added.  Report any Injuries or Injurious Behaviours promptly to your designated Functionary.  Inappropriate or unsafe use of equipment or facilities is Prohibited, under Penalty.

Other than that, the gym is normally visited only by those under extended physiotherapy protocols, the occasional Agriward, and the Mothermen, with the latter considerably more frequent in their attendance.  It is not technically their domain, but there is a general tacit agreement that the risk of being asked to join in is probably best avoided.

It is far from ideal, of course, but there is at least an element of exclusivity, of privacy, within those blue-white walls.

Or at least, there used to be.

-

*At the third precisely-pitched giggle, S_R has to try very hard not to bite through his tongue as his jaw clenches almost of its own accord. There is a gaggle of Clerks at the other side of the room, clustered around the ridiculous spectacle of R_V making a damn dramatic deal about weightlifting.  The primped-up prick had taken to the facilities with infuriating enthusiasm since his arrival, and while S_R can just about deal with the overgrown idiot grunting and flexing obnoxiously in the corner – with that same obnoxious smirk on his metal mouth every time the Captain’s attention drifts that way – it is the fucking fanclub that really pisses him off.

*He lowers himself down, letting go of the overhead bar carefully, and aims a glare over at the simpering horde.

[S_R] Either shut up, or get in your damn vest and do something.

*He cracks his knuckles, as emphasis, and sneers at R_V.

[S_R] Little hint, Commander? You lift with your legs, not your fucking ego.

*The Commander's attention shifts from his audience to the Captain, he bends down to grasp the barbell and quickly pulls it from the floor, the heavy weight rests on his chest for a second before R_V presses it above his head - the bar nearly bending from the pressure of the weighted plates attached to it. After a few seconds of holding it in the air, glaring at S_R he drops it to the floor behind him as he steps forward, it hits the ground causing a loud clang, the surrounding clerks begin to applaud and compliment R_V.

[R_V] That must be why you are doing chin-ups on that bar over there then Captain hm? Those stubby little things you call legs must be a real hinderance when lifting real weights like me.

*The surrounding clerks laugh along with R_V, one steps forward with a towel and very lightly and carefully dabs the sweat from the commander’s forehead.

[Towel Clerk] You are correct big brother, you have the most impressive physique out of all the Mothermen, we are all in agreement.

*S_R snorts, and trails an obvious, disparaging look up and down R_V.

[S_R] Oh no, my fragile self-esteem. Crushed. Beneath your mighty wit.

*S_R laces his fingers together and stretches over his head, smirking at R_V.

[S_R] Although, I’ll admit, I’m impressed with your progress in moving heavy objects slightly further away from where they started off.  Another couple of months, if you’re ever let out to play with the grown-ups, maybe you can carry the bags.   Or open particularly stiff doors.  A whole new world of competence awaits you.

*R_V sneer’s at the captain whilst stepping over the barbell again, he presses against it with his boot and it roll’s slightly towards S_R.

[R_V] Please then Captain, for once do the talking with that fragile little grown up body of yours and give us a respite from that maw of bitterness and envy - you’re breaking my concentration.

*R_V walks towards another piece of equipment in the gym, hoisting himself up onto two chest height bars and begins to effortlessly do multiple tricep dips, lowering and raising himself up and down - his eyes unmoving trained upon S_R and the barbell.

[S_R] What are you, fucking five?

*He ignores the barbell, moving towards one of the suspended punching bags and squares up in front of it, rolling his shoulders, before sending a sharp flurry of punches into the dull surface.  Stepping back, he meets R_V’s rigid stare.

[S_R] Believe me, Commander - you?  Have nothing I want. *Another round of jabs, punctuated by a roundhouse kick, and S_R glowers at the crowd of Clerks, who are carefully keeping their distance.*

[S_R] Have fun making yourself into a pumped-up pretty show-pony.  I’ve seen you fight.  You need a reminder of what my boot feels like?

*R_V lowers himself back to the ground and advances towards S_R, with his fist clenched tightly he swings, his fist connecting with an adjacent punching bag with an audible thud, the bag swings and spins wildly. R_V stares S_R down.

[R_V] Are you referring to the cheap shot ambush Captain? Hardly a fair fight - oh and I do have something you’d want…

*R_V pauses, grinning wickedly he points to himself and turns to the group of clerks, they all smile back at him.

[R_V] That’s right Captain, I’m more than just a pretty show pony as you so kindly complimented, you want my physique don’t you?

*R_V brings his fist back again, slamming it once more loudly into the bag sending it flying backwards again.

[R_V] My raw strength, my combat abilities - why else would you pay so much attention to me in the gym Captain?

*S_R pointedly ignores the other bag’s wild swinging, although his gaze does travel along R_V’s arm with the second punch.  The sneer is back just as quickly.

[S_R] Less from your mass, as your volume.  Sound a bit less like you’re about to piss a kidney with each rep, and I’ll happily ignore you.

*He swings around, pinning the still-swinging bag in place, and leans around it towards the larger Ward.

[S_R] Besides, I am Captain here.  Which means I already have your ‘physique’ - such as it is - for whatever I. Deem. Necessary.

*He looks, very deliberately up and down R_V.

[S_R] Which will be very fucking little unless you manage to convince me you’ve got any actual, practical value to this unit.

*R_V glances from S_R to the now stable bag that the captain is leaning against, his eyes widen as he takes a small step back to give himself a little distance. He grins.

[R_V] Very well then Captain, allow me to display some practicality.

*R_V suddenly steps forward in a flash before S_R can realise what's happening, lifting his boot to connect with the bag, sending it flying, he stands over the floored Captain.

[R_V] A proper practical display Captain, no? You foolishly left yourself vulnerable and now here I stand, Commander R_V - Above. You.

*S_R’s eyes narrow.  It’s only slightly, because there isn’t time for much else, as he kicks out sharply, with the same fluid accuracy of his earlier movement - and his foot slams into R_V’s crotch.  Hard.

[S_R] Bad idea.

*R_V winces in pain, he falls to one knee leaning forwards slightly, supported by his fist now tightly pressed onto the gym’s floor, he grunts through clenched teeth.

[S_R] So - *He stands up quickly, an unpleasant smirk bleeding onto his face* - about leaving yourself vulnerable…?  How’s that ‘raw strength’ going for you?

*R_V takes several heavy, deep breaths, from the corner of his eye he catches sight of the gloating S_R and launches himself towards him from his kneeling position, driving a fist into the captain’s gut.

[R_V] No more.. - *He takes a second to gather his breath, his teeth still clenched and brow lowered in pain* - cheap shots.

*R_V removes his fist from the hunched over man and shoves him out of his way, stepping towards the gym’s sparring ring, as he climbs in and through the ropes he stares down S_R.

[R_V] Convince me your combat skills have any practical value to this unit, Brother.

*This would not be a good time to throw up.  S_R’s teeth grind together as he straightens up, trying to ignore the acid rush threatening in his throat, and the new-burn of annoyed embarrassment under his cheeks.  In the privacy of his own head, he will admit that the puffed-up princeling does have a decent punch on him.  It would have been be better if it hadn’t landed on him, of course.

Because even the Clerks have gone silent now, although it is a tense, anticipatory sort of silence that sends the hairs on S_R’s neck prickling.

Fuck.  Fuck.

This is a terrible idea.  And he’s going to do it anyway.

He stalks over towards the other side of the sparring ring, rolling in under the ropes, and meets R_V’s smug expression with a glower as he stands up and cracks his knuckles.

[S_R] I’m going to peel that fucking Furtherance off your arm.

*R_V raises his clenched fists, keeping his elbows in tight to defend his ribcage and stares down S_R, his feet already shuffling on the mat as he moves slowly closer.

[R_V] Come on now Captain, we’re sparring - there’s really no need to be trembling so much. I’m not going to kill you.

*R_V flings a heavy right at S_R, missing by a whisker, and defensively backs off an arms length.

[R_V] I’m just going to maim you.

*On edge now, S_R avoids the swinging blow as he rises onto the balls of his feet, shifting his weight as he starts to move around the ring space.  Assessing.  R_V doesn’t have bad form - a bit formal, a bit idealised - which adds some weight to his theory that the Ward hasn’t seen a lot of brawling combat.  It shouldn’t get to him.  It shouldn’t.  But it does.

*He’s sparred with C_K often enough recently, plus the occasional Agri. True, R_V is bigger than most of them - even more so after the last three months of over-enthusiastic training - and S_R is aware he should be being more cautious here, but anger is sparking, hot and impatient and insisting.

[S_R] If you can even hit a moving target.

*For emphasis, he darts inward, aiming a sharp jab towards R_V’s face. Staying out of range of those damn teeth, but intending to split skin, draw blood.  Bring the fucker down a peg.

*R_V narrowly dodges the strike as he tucks his head down to his shoulder and ducking to the left slightly, the speed of the swing whistles slightly in his ear as it passes over him and from his hunched defensive position launches a right fist in an uppercut motion, aiming to connect with the S_R’s bearded chin.

[R_V] Quicker than I anticipated Captain, I’m almost impressed.

*He continues to sidestep and bounce on his feet, eyes locked on S_R, assessing his opponent by throwing a few mock jabs to watch the man react, the once smug expression upon his face now a look of pure focus and determination to take down the Captain.

[S_R] The only impression I intend to leave on you is from my knuckles.

*S_R avoids the jabs - mostly, one grazes his shoulder, and the follow-up skims past his nose a little closer than he would have liked - and continues to circle his opponent.  R_V has a few inches of reach on him, but that’s nothing new.  Just means he’s got to be careful - or take the risks.

[S_R] Bit more difficult than punch-jerking your own reflection, is it?

*He drops down sharply, the natural flexibility of his wirier form taking him underneath R_V’s latest pendulous cross.  He doesn’t stop moving, aiming a strike up at the base of the bigger man’s jaw, left open for a moment as the swing brings R_V’s chin forward out of his defence.

*R_V’s head jolts backwards a little as the punch connects squarely on his jaw, he stumbles backwards for a second before bringing his head back down and tucking his chin in, his footwork now a little bouncier and energetic as he steps forward, swinging a knee at S_R’s ribcage left open by the punch.

[R_V] Well observed Captain, quite the timing on the opening. It’ll be the last good punch you’ll throw with that arm when I’m finished with you.

[S_R] Run your mouth any more, Commander, and I’ll fucking break it.

*He swivels to avoid the knee - not quite fast enough to dodge to blow completely, but enough to roll with the momentum, bringing his opposite arm up as he pivots against R_V’s raised leg and jabs his elbow sharply towards his opponent’s nose.

*The elbow connects with the Commander’s nose and he stumbles backwards again slightly from the force of it.  Drops of blood spill to the floor, a small stream of it dripping from his nostrils; he runs his tongue along his upper lip, tasting the blood before changing his tone from smug and confident to calm and serious as he turns his head back to face S_R.

[R_V] You could have damaged my face; you are going to regret that. I am going to make you regret that.

*R_V darts forward and throws a fake straight right at the Captain's face, whilst swinging a wide, heavy left whilst he is distracted, carelessly aimed and seemingly headed for the side of the man’s neck.

* The satisfied smirk that plays across S_R’s lips as his blow lands is anything but pleasant. He shifts back again, jigging with boosted bravado as R_V recoils, because seeing the other Ward bleed is dangerously satisfying right now.  Let his little fucking fanclub gawk at that.

[S_R] I’ll regret it if I haven’t.

*He doesn’t get to continue the taunt as R_V strikes back, launching a dully-predictable  retaliatory head shot.  Dodging, S_R brings his own left arm up to deflect the following slow hook, intending to duck under the man’s again-extended guard and -

* - and R_V’s hand clamps down, suddenly-iron, around his forearm.

...oh shit.

*R_V twists S_R’s arm as he moves, positioning it behind the man's back and jolting him forwards.  He stands out of reach of the Captain’s free hand himself, whilst maintaining his grip and applying pressure.

[R_V] Tut, tut, tut Captain… this really is quite the position you’ve gotten yourself into isn't it? Don’t even try and move now or I’ll cripple you.

*The upper ring-rope digs into S_R’s ribs as he finds himself shoved hard against the border, twisting automatically as he tries to wriggle himself free from R_V’s grip, but the bigger Ward isn’t moving and neither is he.  Embarrassment is fast on the heels of surprise, because really?  Really?  Has he forgotten everything about fighting opponents bigger than him?  Like not letting them get ahold of your fucking arm.  But either one would probably be better than the anger that surges ahead of both, pouring ill-planned invective down his tongue.

[S_R] Screw - you -

*His teeth grind, as R_V applies more pressure and some of the twisted angles of bone start to burn.  He’s flexible, true, but there’s flexibility than then there’s having someone try and unscrew one of your limbs at the hilt, and he bites down on a sharp breath as he is tilted further.  Rising onto his toes, trying to reduce the leverage, and now would be a really good time to be placatory…

*S_R jerks his head back, trying to aim at his opponent’s already-injured nose.

Or not.

*R_V grins as the man’s attempted headbutt misses his face by a few inches, he nudges the arm further up the captain's back very slowly against the S_R’s resistance and holds it there.

[R_V] Nice attempt Captain - but a good militant man remembers his training. Are you ready to admit it now? In front of all of these people, that I, Commander R_V, have bested you? That you’re nothing more than cannon fodder?

*He presses the man into the ropes again towards the group of now-smiling Clerks, who had previously been observing with looks of concern on their faces.

[R_V] Admit it. Admit that I am, and always will be your superior, Captain, and I’ll think about letting you keep your arm.  Oh, and If you even move a muscle that isn’t connected to your mouth for once, it’ll be the last thing you do.

[S_R] You will - never - be my superior.

*His free hand is tight on the rope, taking some weight, his mind spinning frantically through options.  He’s been in worse situations that this; he’s hurt more than this.  Okay so none of them are happening right now, but it was something to focus on.

[S_R] You’re a washed-up - deluded - earthbound has-been - and being bigger than me doesn’t even make a dent in that.

*He twists, trying to ignore the fresh flare of pain in his joints, as he seeks out R_V’s smug gaze in the corner of his vision and sneers back.

[S_R] You’re Unward in all but declaration, “Pilot-Commander”.  Go.  Fuck.  Yourself.

[R_V] Yet again the good Captain's run his mouth without thinking of the consequences. I finally understand why you’re stuck at such a rank… so predictable, little brother.

*R_V grips S_R’s wrist tightly and places his other hand on the man’s twisted elbow, he presses forward, and up -

- and S_R’s shoulder vanishes in a white-hot flare of agony, as a very audible crack sounds like a gunshot in the anticipatory silence of the watching Clerks.

[R_V] Remember this pain as you sit in the medical bay Captain, remember that you had a choice, this was your decision and that you chose wrongly.

*S_R doesn’t scream.  Not exactly - he’s not silent, because anyone able to stay placid while their shoulder is being pried out of its socket has even more problems than S_R will admit for himself - but it’s a strangled, bitten-down sound; a breathless attempt to smother pain with anger, only half-successful as the rest of him goes rigid with the shock.

*R_V holds him there for a moment, then releases the arm and drives a quick kick to the back of S_R’s locked knees, folding him to the mat with the lifeless limb hanging awkwardly at his side, and a choked gasp breaking from his throat.  R_V looks down, then back up at the watching Clerks.

[R_V] Such a dreadful event to witness, hmm? Captain S_R hurting his arm trying to lift that barbell over there.  You all saw it.

*The group of Clerks all nod in agreement, laughing with the Commander as he ducks back under the rope, wiping away at the few drops of blood still clinging to his upper lip.  S_R hasn’t moved, eyes screwed shut and breathing through gritted teeth.  The Clerks turn away, flocking back around the larger Ward as they all make their way out of the gym.

*R_V halts at the door, looking back at the crumpled Captain.  He grins wickedly before stepping out into the hallway, not even sparing a glance for the other figure now entering the room, holding a jug of water.

*For a long moment there is silence, broken only by the harsh sound of S_R’s breathing.  And then -

*A full moon graces the skies over the facility, bathing the building and lake in a gentle light. the flowers and bushes sway as a breeze pushes through all, almost as if they were dancing to the music booming through the dance hall.

*Raziel steps out from the entrance of the facility, the illusioned dragons on his jacket dancing as he takes a deep breath, the smell of the fresh flowers filling his nose and clearing his mind

*It had certainly been an eventful day and Raziel couldn’t believe how much time had flown. he had met many wonderful and interesting people, he had danced and laughed the night away and couldn’t help but drift back once again to the parties back at home, both the royal balls he attended as a prince and the academy parties he had hosted as studying mage.

*As he continued to walk towards the lake and explore he spots a young man standing tall by the facility’s doors, The moonlight reflecting of his white suit jacket. As Raziel approaches he notices the man clearly looking up towards the night sky, as he walks around to greet the man it almost looks like he has a look of longing on his face.

[Raziel] Beautiful night tonight, wouldn’t you agree my friend?

*R_V’s eyes linger on the stars above for a moment before snapping his head to face his company. He stands at a very calculated distance from the entrance and watches the man approaching.

[R_V] Any opportunity I get to look upon the stars again is quite the evening Mr…?

[Raziel] Baopian, Raziel Baopian

*He smiles warmly as he extends a hand to shake*

*R_V takes the man’s hand and shakes firmly once, his free hand gesturing towards the facility.

[R_V] Good evening, Raziel Baopian - I’ve been instructed to escort you back to join our other guests as this area is off limits. However as we are under the stars I’m certain we can linger for a moment.

*R_V releases Raziel’s hand, his eyes again returning to bright glow of the sky as he brings his own hand to touch the badge pinned upon his jacket.

*Raziel bows his head towards R_V before walking to his side and continue his look at the sky*

[Raziel] Apologies, I was not aware this place was off limits. but I couldn’t help but admire the view

*He briefly looks towards R_V, his eyes catching the badge*

[Raziel] what is that symbol upon your chest?

*R_V smiles briefly, his chrome teeth shine slightly from the light of the sky.

[R_V] Not a man of the state then. It’s a medal that was awarded to me upon becoming Commander, Raziel. I was once among these stars.

*R_V sighs heavily as he turns slowly back towards the facility, he stands in the doorway staring at the sky for a final time.

[R_V] And what is your story, Raziel Baopian? Take a final look at the view for we must return.

*Raziel’s face lights up at R_V statement with an almost childlike wonder and curiosity as he continues to look at the stars*

[Raziel] A mortal was able to be amongst the heavens? what an interest world this place is

*He chuckles as he looks towards R_V now*

[Raziel] In my world I am next in line as head of the Baopian Clan, one of the many clans of my world… but here I am a humble mage & member of Castle Oakheart. A pleasure to meet you sir…..?

*R_V stares at Raziel with a look of bewilderment and nods.

[R_V] Yes… if the heavens are the Orbital Weapons and Research Platform Fortune then I suppose i was amongst them and at that - their commander. Commander R_V, Mother’s most loyal son, entrusted member of the Mothermen Extraction Unit at this facility - a pleasure to meet you too, shall we?

*R_V begins to slowly walk down the tunnel, glancing occasionally at the decorations that dawn the walls in celebration of the ball, he sighs a little as his eyes meet the fake stars that hang above.

[Raziel] I meant being amongst the stars, but sure, that too.

*Raziel shortly follows R_V, casually looking around him at the walls and decorations*

[Raziel] So a commander? always a pleasure to meet a man of honour. also what was this “Mothermen Extraction Unit” you were a part of?

[R_V] My current position in fact - It’s this facilities security and recon team. Next in line of your clan and a member of a mage crew was it? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, might you explain?

[Raziel] ah apologies, allow me to explain. Originally I’m not from here, my home of Caelum is… well for a less confusing way of explaining it let’s just say it’s far away. back there I’m considered nobility.

*Raziel eyes look down*

[Raziel] I stumbled into this land trying to escape a massacre at my school, the spell that should’ve have sent me to my capital to warn the military and emperor of the attack sent me here, where i was saved by the people of Castle Oakheart.

*He gestures towards himself*

[Raziel] So here I am now, just an average gem mage and a member of Oakheart, paying his debt to his saviours

[R_V] Quite the story Mr Baopian, and this school was amongst the stars was it? Very interesting, uncharted territory in the eyes of Mother!

[Raziel] Well if i ever find a way to return there, you’re more than welcome to join me. No doubt a man whose travelled amongst the stars will be of keen interest and a man of topic with the emperor and clans.

[R_V] You are the second guest this evening to invite me to leave my facility - the State is where I belong and where I shall remain, any ventures outside of this facility will only be a result of my facilitators will.

*R_V continues down the tunnel quietly, they soon reach the end of the tunnel and R_V pauses just before the opened blast door, snapping quickly round to face Raziel.

[R_V] I must however thank you for that offer, perhaps one day the chain will guide me to the stars once more.

[Raziel] You are very welcome my friend, & know that if fate were ever to see you come to my land, that you would be more than welcome in Caelum. You’re a man of Honour I can tell, and that's rare to come by these days, certainly something we need more of.

*R_V politely smiles and nods.

[R_V] Thank you, thank you. So tell me Mr. Baopian, Raziel - you mentioned a Castle Oakheart? could you tell me about them? I’m… curious.

[Raziel] Of course, although I must say I’m not too sure how much info I’ll have for you if your after specifics.

*he looks past R_V briefly, his eyes focusing on a small group of people huddled together talking and laughing, there unique outfits and vibrant dresses making them stand out from the decorations and ballroom lighting, before returning to R_V.*

[Raziel] I feel the best way to describe Castle Oakheart and its people...is like a magical dysfunctional family. Each person in those walls comes from very different walks of life, both in upbringing and in styles of magic. yet even with our differences we all still get along and work together...  And as you can see looking at me, they’re not one to turn down helping a stranger.

*Raziel smiles.*

[Raziel] They’re good people, a little bizarre and a tad chaotic, but good people none the less.

[R_V] Sounds like an… interesting bunch. I do hope you and your crew did not have to travel far from there to come here - perhaps a day or so of travelling?

*R_V returns a smile, tilting his head slightly with raised brows carefully watching Raziel.

[Raziel] More or less, I probably should have paid more attention to how we got here, but I can say we’re close enough to visit, so no doubt our paths will cross again after this ball

[R_V] Hopefully under pleasant circumstances Mr. Baopian.

*R_V and Raziel finally approach the ballroom, R_V holds the doorway open for him with his foot and gestures into the party with a free hand.

[R_V] You have been escorted back peacefully - please rejoin your friends Raziel Baopian - only access to level 4 is permitted to guests, I’d hate to find you trespassing again - the conversation would not be pleasant for you.

*R_V smiles widely and extends his other hand to the man offering a handshake, quickly he glances to see if anyone is watching from inside the room and back to Raziel.

[R_V] And do have a pleasant evening, I’m sure the guests would be thrilled to hear your tales of the stars as they are of my own.

[Raziel] While I doubt my stories would captivate an audience as well as yours my friend, I do agree that it is time for me to return to my group. Thank you again for the chat and walk back to the hall. & once again, I apologise for my inconvenience

Watered wine and diluted half-measures are not the only beverages available at the Ball.  Water is cheap and chilled, and a tall, dark-skinned Ward with a black cross on the arm of her white coat periodically moves from table to table, refreshing sprigs of herbs and small bottles of cordial infusions.

One table in particular has a large, ornate metal bowl in pride of place, and there is a distinctly volatile scent in the air here.  Thick ceramic jugs are crowded beneath the table, mostly hidden by the star-sketched cloth, and a thick-armed AGRIward woman stands behind the punch bowl, holding a ladle like a declaration, and grins broadly at anyone who approaches.

Ey there duck - you wantin’ a real drink?

-

*S_R does not usually drink. Or at least, S_R does not usually drink anything that comes under the general description of ‘concocted by an AGRI’.  But there is very little usual about this evening, and the constant press of simpering Citizenry - and worse - has been grating on his nerves for several hours now; and he will admit that taking that edge off is worth the mental gymnastics involved to avoid thinking about where the cloudy swill came from.

*He hasn’t intended to refill his glass, but the thickset AGRI matron behind the bowl is unexpectedly swift with her ladle, and the edge of a warm haze is curling through his thoughts as he moves aside, watching the swirling metronome of the dance floor with a more idle interest than before.

*He doesn’t dance either, but he can appreciate the grace of some of those that do - even if he might conceal his interest behind a habitual scowl.

*From his side, there comes a voice, glossy and insinuating. Laurence wears a mask of blue velvet and speaks idly, directionlessly, examining the cloudy AGRI brew in his fluted glass.

[Fairfax] Did you know, at my wedding, we had champagne bottled twenty years ago that ought to be drunk at 38 degrees fahrenheit precisely? One wouldn’t think that taste could be measured in increments and percentages and milliseconds. Ordinarily.

*There is a measure of bitter amusement to Laurence’s tone. He turns to regard S_R; the ceremonial sword, the dark brocade waistcoat and oil-blue strip of hair.

[Fairfax] My my, in that outfit, boy, one could almost mistake you for an actual person.

*Laurence places a hand on S_R’s shoulder, and steps to face him. He is the taller man and his mask is crowned with the crescent moon, rising like sharp horns from his forehead. Beneath it, his blue eyes glitter.

[Fairfax] No… No. Perhaps you’d fool a hobbyist, but I, darling, am a connoisseur. I still see the Ward in you.

*S_R doesn’t flinch as Fairfax’s hand lands on his shoulder, but it is a close thing. His own fingers tighten around his glass as the older man speaks, and there is a faint creak of gritting enamel at the comment.  He does meet Fairfax’s gaze, amber on turquoise, both sharper than safe.

[S_R] Fooling anyone isn’t my concern. Sir.

*He takes another sip, not dropping the stare as he does so, and the faintest edge of humourless smile reaches his lips.

[S_R] I know who, and what, I am.  Damned well.  Dead man’s finery doesn’t change a fibre.

*His gaze drifts, a little less focused, down towards the murky contents of the glass.  The ghost of something drifts past behind his eyes, and when he looks back up it is abrupt, and almost accusatory.

[S_R] But everything’s a tool, sir.  And your… instructions were fairly fucking clear.

*Fairfax laughs, tilting his head back. He slaps his hand against S_R’s shoulder, and tightens his grip.

[Fairfax] Fair by name, fair by nature.

*He leans forward and whispers, his voice dropping its amiable tone.

[Fairfax] And fairly fucking clear by necessity, Captain. If we must be obscene.

*Even areas away from the ‘officially sanctioned’ sections of the Ball are not immune; in one of the sterile corridors a ways behind the party itself there was, if one were to listen closely enough, a rough and drawling voice emanating from ventilation grate six feet up one of the clean white walls.*

[D_N] You sure about that man? No sign of that muscle bound bleach freak or his ink-stained mate?

//RP Note// D_N still believes himself to be in the ‘origin universe’ of FAC-19 due to Void related shenanigans and his own lack of intelligence. He is wrong about this and the people he is worried about being here are, in fact nowhere near the Ball. Still, full marks for being thorough, Private.//

[D_N] .... over.

*There is an audible click, and a hissing sound, as if someone were replying over a walkie talkie.*

[D_N] Gotcha, thanks Ade. I’m ‘bout to go live, I’ll see if I can Recce and find you out there but if I don’t, you know what to do.

*The radio handset clicks again and there is further muffled static before it falls silent.  The sound is replaced by the squeaking of metal on metal as the ventilation grate is slowly eased out of place. With a sudden shock it begins to fall, but a leaf-clad arm shoots out from the wide pipe behind to seize it before it hits the floor.*

*Slowly the infiltrator emerges from the ventilation shaft (the size of which being an unfortunate side effect of the facility being mostly subterranean) and drops to the ground.*

*He is clad in a green and foliage-covered Ghillie suit, scavenged from a museum exhibit found within the bowels of a wrecked Yarvik Conglomerate cargo ship; recently discovered by himself and the man on the other end of his radio, the detective Adrian Telepher.*

*As he removes the suit, the twigs and vines stuck to the outside hamper his efforts considerably and, with its purpose in navigating through the agriculture areas above ground now complete, D_N exposes another set of scavenged clothes underneath. The museum exhibit had contained many example of State military dress uniform, along with a number of other revelations that he did not wish to dwell on at the moment. In another universe, the reveal of his more formal clothes as he removed the outer camouflage layer might have been considered suave, ‘secret agent’ like, even; but in reality the mismatched garments from several different regiments and D_N’s stumbling in the legs of the Ghillie suit as he takes them off quickly dispel that illusion.*

*His heartbeat quickens as he finally escapes the arboreal trousers and shoves the suit back into the vent above him, covering it quickly but lightly with the removed grating. As he adjusts the four medals on his uniformed chest, the only part of his dress he actually owned, he gives a wry smile at another successful sneaking mission and his voice comes out whispered and prideful.*

[D_N] Like A Ghost.

*Sounds of footfall and laughter echo through the corridor as R_V approaches. He turns the corner, accompanied by two smiling clerks hanging on to the commanders every word, and pauses as he spots the man before him.*

[R_V] Not quite – ghosts are a figment of imagination, and you are very much here.

*At the sound of the voice behind him, D_N freezes in place, eyes wide and rictus smirk and all, before starting to ensure his unruly hair is suitably slicked back with his hands.*

*The clerks turn to each other shyly and grin, R_V remains fixated on the guest as he passes one of them a glass of barely touched champagne.*

[R_V] You two, take this and leave, I must attend to our guest.

*After a brief pause they take the glass from the commander's hand and exchange a look of disappointment before turning around the corner heading back towards the party.*

*D_N turns, sweating, medals swooshing lightly across his breast as he does so and begins to rue leaving his pouches and weapons outside.*

[R_V] Guests have been strictly informed to stick to Level 4 as the designated area for festivities, as instructed upon entrance to this Facility, You will explain your reasoning for trespassing and will then be peacefully escorted back – and only because you appear to be a Military man of the Chain – to rejoin the others.

*D_N looks the tall man up and down quickly, his gaze catching slightly at the sight of metal teeth. Ward; the guy’s gotta be a Ward. There is also something familiar about him that he just can’t place...*

[D_N] Ah yeah sorry man, I was just… uh… looking for the toilet?

*The question mark at the end of his pitiful bluff was almost audible.*

*R_V glances at the man’s jacket and to his medals briefly, raising a brow in intrigue. His head quickly snaps back to meet the man’s eyes and the look of interest quickly falls back to an unimpressed frown.*

[R_V] The location of the restroom was clearly stated by Functionary C_C upon entry to this Facility at the beginning of the event.  You are very clearly lost.

*R_V takes a step forward, standing tall over the man.  His fully-blue eyes continue to dart between the man’s medals and his eyes.*

[R_V] You will explain as I escort you, Mr….?

*D_N leans back slightly as the larger Ward moves forward, half formed reasonings of ‘Civvie Restrooms’ and ‘Big Jobs’ dying on his lips before something finally clicks in his head and he recognises the man looming over him.*

[D_N] Ah...! It’s Private actually.  Grenadier Private D_N, Ostrander Division… and you’re Commander R_V of the Space Core! Recognise yer picture…

*D_N proceeds to perform the sloppiest State salute R_V has ever seen; instead of bringing his index and middle finger at right angles to the lips and holding them there, as he did himself, they come in at an angle and are flicked away almost as soon as they touched. It looks more like he was smoking an invisible cigarette than anything else.*

[D_N] Nice to meetcha… tho.. weren’t you supposed to have blown up in space or something?

//RP Note// In the origin universe that D_N is used to Commander R_V did indeed die in an orbital accident.//

*R_V sighs and winces in discomfort as he watches the man salute before -correctly- saluting and speaking in a clear, raised voice.*

[R_V] Actually, it’s Commander R_V of the Orbital Weapons and Research Platform FORTUNE, Hero of the Chain, and now member of the Mothermen Extraction Unit at this very Facility.

*R_V drops his salute and exhales, he gestures a hand down the corridor as he begins to slowly walk.*

[R_V] And no, Private, although you are not the first to say that. I’m very much alive.  Now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries you will explain. Who were you talking to? How have you found yourself in an off limits area?

*R_V turns to admire the man’s military jacket and medals a final time.*

[R_V] And how does someone from the Ostrander division – and a Private at that – survive to stand before me unscathed? You’re either a thief stealing from a brave deceased Brother or Sister of the Chain, or you’re telling the truth. *R_V lowers his voice to somewhat of a whisper* At which point, I’m impressed.

*D_N lets out a long whistle, his mind racing. He is familiar enough with the concept of faked deaths – hell, Morrigan had got him to help out with one or two when she was recruiting. But who’s this guy working for? Presumably the Facilitator… best to ‘play’ it dumb for the time being.*

[D_N] Oh before…? Just talking to myself, ya know? Kinda a bad habit I fell into, spent a bit too much time by myself recently…

*D_N trails off, not wanting to think about his time in the Void, as he follows R_V down the corridor and back towards the party.*

[D_N] And as for Ostrander?

[D_N] Hell if I know how I made it through. I know the Top Brass had us down as the ‘Bullet Sponge’ division and we were usually pretty good at doin’ just that… Specially back in Isador but me…?

*D_N shrugs.*

[D_N] Just lucky I guess.

*R_V grins slightly as they stop just outside the doorway leading to the party, his hand blocking the entrance.*

[R_V] It seems luck has been on both of our sides then. I’m afraid I still don’t trust you though, Private – for a start your outfit is mismatched, although you may just have a terrible taste in presentation.

*D_N nods at this.  Both comments are a pretty fair cop.*

*R_V lowers the arm barricading the doorway to open it slightly, sounds of conversation and music suddenly audible.

[R_V] However I’m a man of actions rather than words, and you seem to know your history – how about a little field work, hmm? You’re aware of the chain of command, Private? Of course you are.  Follow my orders until I believe you.

*R_V pushes the door open gently, the subtle sounds suddenly much louder.  His eyes remain fixated on D_N as he awaits a response.*

*D_N nods in agreement and performs a marginally less sloppy salute. He’s in the party now at least and it’s generally best to just go along with what officers want. Besides, it’s a decent chance for recon, and until he finds Adrian it’s not like he has anything better to do.*

*R_V walks into the room with D_N closely following behind.  Some heads turn to greet him and smiling Clerks meet him with a fresh drink.  They stop at the sidelines of the dance floor and resume conversation.*

[R_V] So, a Private that survived the Ostrander division appears in this Facility under strange circumstances… you mentioned Isador earlier. Tell me all about it, Grenadier Private D_N.

[D_N] What’s there to tell? It’s hot as all hell there and the infantry divisions usually end up ‘Going home to Mother’ capturing a city that gets retaken by the Dories a few months later.

*D_N shrugs, and there is suddenly a slight, and unexpected edge in his voice at remembering his fallen comrades from many, many years ago.*

[D_N] Anything specific Commander? Maybe what a recon squad smells like after it gets hit by Tiller Boy fireball?

*R_V raises the small glass of champagne and downs it in a quick gulp.  He hands the empty glass to D_N and leans forward to speak quietly.*

[R_V] I’m no stranger to the smell of seared flesh and fallen comrades myself Private.  I understand your anger, but perhaps you should show some respect. Now fetch me, and yourself, another glass of champagne, hmm? This is a time for celebration, not fighting.

*There is a moment of tension before D_N’s shoulders slump back to their usual position. Back on the Crag they always used to say that there was no point fighting unless you were willing to go all the way, and he’d taken much worse tongue lashings from big Big J_D to avoid hassle….*

*D_N shook his head slightly as he wandered in a daze over to the champagne table as if on autopilot, idly pilfering a canape and stuffing into his mouth as he passed. The Crag… now really wasn’t the time to be thinking about ‘home’, but he couldn’t seem to shake it.*

*R_V takes a glass from D_N and finishes it in one gulp again, placing the empty glass back onto the table.*

[R_V] I’ve been instructed to ensure our guests have an enjoyable time, and that no refreshment should go to waste, Private.  Take this bottle of champagne and do not return to me until every guest's glass is full.  Commander’s and Facilitators orders – oh, and when you return, do tell me about your silverware, hmm?

*R_V hands him the bottle with a smug grin, his chrome teeth shining brightly as the lights of the ballroom reflect off them.  He gestures one gloved hand at a mixed group of guests and nods towards them.  D_N proceeds to pour drinks into the eagerly-waiting glasses of drunken Agri’s and greedy guests; R_V watches carefully from a distance.*

*The evening passes slowly as the Private fills glasses and clears away plates under the instruction of the Commander. It’s boring work but nothing worth kicking up a fuss about; besides, D_N mused to himself for the second time, slightly less convincingly than the first: ‘It’s not like I have anything better to do’.*

*Before D_N had time to muse on the matter any further, however, the Commander had a new, slightly more ‘involved’ task for him.*

*R_V approaches the still-working D_N and takes the empty bottle from his hands.*

[R_V] Private – I’ve spotted a potential threat to the State at this very event.  The man by the punchbowl, a very dangerous Deserter. The Captain must have let him slip in. His name is C_K.

*R_V hands him the bottle again this time by upside down, offering him the neck.*

[R_V] I’m going to need you to dispose of him before he harms the Facilitator or one of our guests.  I’d do it myself but well, I’d hate to ruin this suit.  How about it, Private?

*D_N takes the bottle without thinking and feels the heft, instinctively knowing it wouldn’t be pretty, but it would certainly do the job. Looking over towards the punch bowl he sees the Deserter, ‘C_K’. The man seemed slightly out of breath, looking shaken and downing a hastily poured glass.*

*D_N knows what to do.*

[D_N] Nah, man.

*The bottle is returned to R_V’s hands with a little more force than he was expecting.*

[D_N] I don’t mind doin’ odds jobs for ya since it’s no bother, but I ain’t yer hitman.

*D_N ruminates while casting a sideways glance and thinking to the stack of cards in his pocket.*

[D_N] Not even sure ya could afford me to be honest, even with the discount.

*R_V flips the bottle from the neck and catches it right side up, placing it down on the table. His expression settles halfway between a frown and a snarl, he gestures towards the door.*

[R_V] I’ve had enough of you Private. You think because you supposedly survived the Ostrander division, you are worth a damn? Outside. Now. It’s time to find out who you really are.

*D_N follows his gaze to the door they entered by, before exhaling sharply and swiftly marching through, pursued by six-foot-plus of chromed Mother’s Fury.*

*R_V stands tall above D_N while still scowling, and a sharp finger jabs quickly into D_N’s chest just above his medals.*

[R_V] How dare you talk to me like that in public where the Fa… where anyone could hear? Surely even a pissant Private from sorry excuse of a regiment knows to obey the Chain of Command?

*D_N locks eyes with R_V, a look of strange calm on his face as the Commander runs his finger across the line of medals on his chest.*

[R_V] What's this? Cross of Mothers Obedience, 4th class? Well since you can’t follow orders I don’t think you’ll be needing that any more. Private.

*R_V pulls the medal from the man’s jacket and lets it drop to the ground, his finger runs along the other medals.*

[R_V] Oh? Another Cross of Mothers Obedience 4th class? And another! I’m sensing a pattern here, D_N. Congratulations on not getting blown up in the Ostrander unit, it must have been so worth these medals!

*R_V pulls the two others from the jacket, throwing them to the side, and scoffs at D_N as his finger runs over another.*

[R_V] Oh and anothe- Wait… this is an Order of Military Merit… these are only bestowed to those who have died in service to Mother. You are a thief!  You don’t even have any identification tattoos! Present your arm, now.

*Eyes still locked, but a smile crawling along his lips, D_N slowly removes his dress uniform jacket. The shirt beneath is ragged, the best that could be found on a derelict and sea-spattered ship. One sleeve was torn off to the forearm and the other nearly to the shoulder exposing a single Private’s bar tattoo, which D_N presents to the Commander, while his other hand fishes for something in his pocket.*

*R_V glances at the torn ragged shirt with a look of disgust but notices the man fumbling around in his pocket. R_V clenches his fists and prepares to defend himself.*

[D_N] Ya see… funny thing about the Chain of Command. First off, I’m not that smart, but I’m not even sure the Space Corp has cross branch cee-oh-cee over the Army, not at Commander level at least…

*R_V starts to protest before D_N cuts him off.*

[D_N] And well, I didn’t want to kick up a fuss before, never know who’s watching, but I’m pretty sure this gives me CoC immunity anyway…

*With that D_N removes from his pocket and presents to R_V, a very crumpled, blood smeared and coffee ringed piece of paper.  Upon the paper is embossed, in semi precious metals and triple-redaction cyphered code, the seal that designates the holder as a member of the Praetorian Guard, alongside a very, very unflattering photo of D_N covered in official seals.*

*The realisation that he was talking to an Auditor’s personal bodyguard hits R_V like a brick. The primary Praetorian of Auditor Morrigan Stewart, specifically, were the Commander to have a decryption device of appropriate clearance level to hand to read that part.  He does not, although the Praetorian designation and, indeed, its placement of the holder ‘beyond the influence’ of even the highest ranking Military Officers is clear as crystal to him.*  

*R_V stares at the paper with a look of disbelief, holding it up to compare the picture to the man before him.*

[R_V] A Private… who is a Praetorian…? Who did you protect – the Auditor of Arts and Crafts!?

[R_V] Still don’t believe it. *He jabs towards D_N’s almost-bare arm.* Where's the tattoo?

[D_N] Good Question! Ya see, the thing is, sticking something obvious like a departmental designation on your arm is a bit of a dead giveaway when you are behind enemy lines. Makes ya sniper bait ya see, Commander, little tip from the ground there for ya, so…

*With that comment two things happen simultaneously. Firstly, D_N turns and drops his mismatched dress trousers, exposing the stylised engram of department ‘Alpha Two Five’ tattooed on his right buttock; and secondly Mothermen Captain S_R opens the door behind R_V and starts to walk through.*

*S_R… stops. His gaze flicks rapidly across the scene – between R_V’s expression, the discarded clothing on the floor, and the “evidence presented” – and comes to a halt again on the Commander, as his eyebrows make a sudden break towards his mismatched hairline.*

*S_R hesitates, a moment that might be indecision, or confusion, or something much worse – and then he spins sharply on one heel and his rapid bootfall is a staccato accompaniment to his retreating figure.  The door has slammed closed again before D_N can twist himself awkwardly around to even see the intruder.*

*R_V slowly turns from the door to the A25 tattoo, there is a moment of awkward silence as he looks on in disbelief at what had just happened.  He glances at the ID paper and the tattoo once again and lets it fall to the floor.*

[R_V] …pull up those trousers, pick up those medals, rejoin the party and keep out of my way, Private.  Don’t let me catch you out of bounds again. We didn’t meet.

*R_V storms towards the door as quickly as possible without waiting for a response, slamming it shut as he flees the scene.*

*D_N reaches down slowly to the jacket beside him and removes the radio from it, without removing his eyes from the door in front of him.*

*There is a click and whir of static as he depresses the button.*

[D_N] Infiltration Successful. Initiating ‘Phase Two’. Over.

*The handset falls silent.*

* Cyborg has now circled most of the room where the main crowd for the party have gathered. She had seen a glimpse or two of those people she knew outside of here, sharing bemused glances and sometimes a quick smile whenever she caught their eye, but mainly it had been States people. They mostly ignored her but the way some of them did look at her... The disgust and fear she could handle, she had done all her life. No, it was the ones who looked at her with something akin to a predator’s hunger that terrified her. However, she had things to do. By now she had figured that this party was to help the Facilitator gather intel on the other groups, but she was gathering some of her own.

[Cyborg] Now… where is that Ward that came in with Breyos…?

* She looks around and realises that the crowd is just that bit taller than she is. She quickly glances around before very gently leaping upwards, careful not to go too much higher than would naturally be possible. After a few jumps she finally spots her target, surrounded by a gang of other Wards near the dancefloor.

[Cyborg] Hm, I can see what he meant when he talked of ego. Well, here goes nothing...

* Cyborg begins to make her way over to the crowd, careful to slip around the chatting groups of people as to not draw attention.

* R_V spots the small woman lingering around the group staring, he leans in and whispers quickly to the clerks and they disperse smiling, some wander to join other groups others head for the refreshments, he gestures her to approach and watches carefully.

[R_V] Come over now girl, don't be intimidated - I don’t bite.

* R_V grins widely revealing his teeth, he chuckles softly to himself and gestures her over again.

[R_V] The way you are staring at me, you must be a fan, come now I’ve always time to chat.

* Cyborg stops as she is addressed, and then folds her arms, raising an eyebrow. There’s something that’s making her hesitate to get as close as she did with S_R before.

[Cyborg] You. You’re different to the others aren’t you? A Ward with self-confidence! *snorts* And it’s good that you can chat. I mean, that’s the entire point of this event isn’t it? To socialise…

*R_V’s grin returns to an expressionless stare, he nods.

[R_V] My confidence and socializing abilities are a result of Mother’s training, I have been tasked by my Facilitator to entertain our guests and will use these skills to fulfill that duty - Can I help you with something Miss?

* She nods.

[Cyborg] Of course, of course… should have realised that even ‘Mother’ has need for some of the Wards to have personality. I think I’m just surprised because you’re the first one I’ve come across so far though. Certainly the first one here… maybe you’ve not been here long enough to pass on such things to your… erm, colleagues? If their ‘upbringing’ doesn’t get in the way.

* She turns to look across the room at another group of Wards.

[Cyborg] I’m right in saying that you are newer here than most right? I’ve heard people in here talking about it.

[R_V] I may be a new addition to this facility but I am by far the most experienced and recognisable figure here.

* R_V positions his arms behind his back.

[R_V] The goings on of this facility should not concern you at this time however, how may I be of assistance? You stared but it is evident you are one of the few unaware of who I am.

* Cyborg sighs, obviously trying to flatter his ego was going nowhere.

[Cyborg] Then let me be direct for a moment. I know that you came from the Silo. I know that you weren’t alone either. One of your former… and I guess possibly current colleagues has had something coming for a time.

* She turns back to face him properly.

[Cyborg] You’re correct that I’m unaware of who you are. But then how could I be, when that damn Silo was such a death trap? I am here to meet people and get to know them. I am Predicted Unit: Cyborg.

* She offers her hand.

* R_V ignores the extended hand, he tilts his head to the side and looks at her curiously, a slight frown on his face as he touches the black ribbon tied to his arm.

[R_V] You seem to know your history, Cyborg. I am Commander R_V of the Orbital Weapons and Research Platform Fortune. I am here this evening to entertain our guests - If you have any questions ask and I may answer.

* Cyborg smiles and withdraws her hand.

[Cyborg] Well Commander, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I assume that the wreckage in the ice belonged… well, it’s the State’s of course but you came with it. But yes, I should stop beating around the bush. It’s Breyos who I unfortunately have a need to settle something with. I might be speaking to someone who would protect him, although I can never tell with a Ward unfortunately. Especially not someone as unique as yourself.

* She debates reaching for the jerky again and decides to hold off a bit longer.

[R_V] I cannot allow you to bring any form of harm to Breyos Vesalius - although it does not surprise me the man has enemies I must ask you why you require him.

* She shakes her head.

[Cyborg] I wouldn’t say ‘enemy’. Just someone who owes the man a little payback for a deed done. Not here of course, I wouldn’t want to sully the atmosphere. What little there is of it.

* She shrugs.

[Cyborg] If you cannot permit harm of any form to the man then really why should I tell you any more? It doesn’t make any sense and has no benefit to me.

*R_V takes a step forward and stands tall over her, he taps the commander's medal on his suit jacket.

[R_V] Firstly, I did not specify which type of harm, and secondly - you are a guest in this facility, you know more than you should and have specified malicious intent at a peaceful neutral gathering. As a member of the Mothermen - you. will. explain.

* Cyborg steps back, a little bit alarmed and thinking.

[Cyborg] Calm down. I have not said I would do it. As if I could now that you’re in such a populated place. At least you’re loyal to the people you know, that’s commendable. I guess State upbringing enforces some uniformity among you all.

* Stuck for something to do she goes for her bag of jerky, hoping that this isn’t about to all kick off. She’d rather not have to do any running right now, not in these shoes.

* R_V exhales deeply, stepping back as he does so returning his arms to behind his back.

[R_V] You are a guest in this facility and will comply with social etiquette - Breyos Vesalius is a man who knows how to irritate but I am sworn to protect him.

*R_V extends his hand finally, his expression blank.

[R_V] You have two options - you finally show me the respect I demand, shake my hand and we converse about this issue concerning Breyos - or I shall escort you out.

* Despite it all, Cyborg shakes her head and smiles a bit.

[Cyborg] I never meant to show you disrespect Commander. Just… hard to know who to trust these days.

* She shakes his hand, considering what to say next.

[Cyborg] He hurt someone who I care about. A little while ago.

*R_V closes his eyes and sighs again, a smile returns to his face.

[R_V] That does not surprise me - Breyos Vesalius is present at this event - how do you intend to settle this problem.

* She just shrugs.

[Cyborg] As long as Breyos is here I can’t settle it. Not in any equal manner. I’ve had enough of State cells and don’t want to end up in another one. Or worse.

* She begins to snack on the half-eaten jerky strand she started while talking to S_R.

[Cyborg] No matter what I might want to do, I am sensible enough to keep it in check.

[R_V] Sensible decision - now who exactly are you, Miss Cyborg? Do you belong to the State?

* She laughs.

[Cyborg] I don’t even know who I am really! Woke up on the shores of a small jungle-covered island a few years back without a single memory of my life and only the ruins of a small boat and a few waterlogged crates around me. I survived there until a few months back when I decided to return to the mainland. Since then I’ve realised that I maybe once I started running I just couldn’t stop again. But I certainly don’t belong to the State, no matter what Peadee and his fellow thought… I’m an independant, while I track down what remains of a lost past. After that, who knows?

* She swallows the last of the jerky strand.

*R_V tilts his head slightly, eyeing her up and down.

[R_V] Sometimes the past is not worth looking into Miss Cyborg, perhaps you should consider life in one of Mother's facilities - have you spoken with our Facilitator?

[Cyborg] I don’t remember everything, but I’ve recalled enough to know that my past with your State hasn’t been… the best. I want to discover my past properly before I decide what I’ll do with the rest of my life. For now I’ll have to refuse any offers.

* She pauses.

[Cyborg] You or your Facilitator might not be the first States people to find me interesting. Only the last one didn’t have any of my interests in mind. But that’s a long story, and one that I’ve still not recalled entirely.

[R_V] Interesting… WelI I think we’ve dwelled on what is behind us a bit long now wouldn't you agree? Are you enjoying the ball Miss? Just a small sample of what life in a facility is like!

* Cyborg looks around, at the chatting guests and the precise movements on the dancefloor. She wonders how to be tactful.

[Cyborg] It’s… certainly a different culture to the one I know Commander. The people are interesting though, I like to see how different people react to things. Past events shape the present and the future…

* She pockets the jerky again.

[Cyborg] And learning about the people and places helps me navigate my way onwards. For instance, I know now of the existence of the Facility’s guard force as well as their name. Mothermen; appropriately titled I think given what I’ve learned already of the way the State does things.

* R_V smiles and stands tall, filled with pride.

[R_V] I’m glad you think so - you’ll find only quality under Mother's name!

* R_V’s expression falls flat again, his eyes surveying over the nearby groups around the room.

[Cyborg] Information is useful when you’ve started off with practically nothing again… when I approached you before about Breyos I only really meant to ask if you knew anything of the incident involving my friend. It was… a mistake though to start off with language implying any action would come from it. My suspicion you see is based on a lot of information that points his way. If you’d rather not say anything though I’ll understand. You have a position to consider…

* She watches his eyes wandering.

[Cyborg] And I’m sure you’d rather speak with more people before the event ends, right?

* R_V stops watching the crowd, his focus returns to her again.

[R_V] Other people will be looking to share a conversation with me correct Miss Cyborg, I do hope whatever issue you have with Mr. Vesalius is resolved - peacefully. However do enjoy your evening, mingle with the crowds, dance, drink the night away! Perhaps discover things from your past! - but remember…

* R_V leans in, his glowing blue eyes widely fixed on hers, a slight smile on his face.

[R_V] Stay out of trouble - we’ll be watching.

* R_V leans back, taking two glasses of wine from a passing Unwards tray, he offers it to her.

[R_V] A wise citizen at this very event taught me what a ‘toast’ is, I think we should raise a glass in celebration of Mother, the facilitator and to good health, hm?

* Cyborg hesitates, before taking it and holding it up slightly.

[Cyborg] To a future that I hope will favour everyone well. Or at the very least will be eventful.

* She clinks it gently, and takes a small sip. Not much, as she is not a big alcohol drinker so goes slowly.

[Cyborg] I think now would be a good time to let you get back to those who know you better then Commander R_V. Have a good evening.

* She turns and vanishes back into the crowd, taking the wine glass with her; letting out an irritated huff when she is far enough away.

[Cyborg] Well, that was almost a disaster… still, it’s good to know about something else I need to potentially watch my step around.

*It is early morning in the Facility and Commander R_V begins to awaken in the Infirmary. He sits up groggily, slowly raising a hand to shield his eyes from the blindingly-white lights on the ceiling, and squints around the room.  It seems he is the first to rise, as an AGRI Ward and Unward remain unconscious in their beds.  There are no Physicians present.

*Neatly folded by the bedside sits the black-and-white of his new Mothermen uniform and harness; the former State issued cosmonaut flight suit removed.  He dresses swiftly, if a little stiffly still, and removes the stained bandages that N_X had applied last night - where his half-conscious terror at the unexpected midnight noise had pulled a few healing wounds open again - and makes his way towards the door before anyone else can wake.

*After a brief moment to gather himself, he twists the handle, and the door swings open with a small click.

*Breakfast would have been significantly improved if he hadn’t tried to breathe toast, S_R considers.  Well that, and if Halstead had arranged to conveniently drop dead after throwing her bloody clipboard at him.  That would have been better.  His teeth grit again as he heads into the Mothermen office; there is already an ache starting behind his eyes, and he really doesn’t need another...

*There is a Clerk in the office.  The sight is unusual - and unwelcome - enough that S_R actually pauses, blinking at the thin figure who is carefully aligning stationary on one of the spare desks.  She does not look up as he enters, powdered-pale face set in an expression of smug industriousness, and S_R quickly lets the clipboard slide unseen down the side of his own desk before rounding on her.

[S_R] And what the hell d’you think you’re doing?

[Clerk] I am ensuring that everything is in order, brother.  Such an illustrious comrade.  You must be proud, to have this honour.

S_R stares at her again, with a knotting feeling in his stomach.

[S_R] ...shit.

The Clerk carefully lines up a stapler with a row of precision-pointed pencils, and does not look up even as the door thuds closed behind the vanishing Captain.

*C_C is standing outside the narrow corridor that leads down to the Mothermen’s quarters, and S_R’s heart sinks even further as the Ward looks up and watches him approach.  He is as expressionless as ever, but as S_R gets closer, the black knife of a smile cuts across his face, and there is a moment of gleam in his eyes.

*C_C tilts back his head and gives S_R a dark smirk. He remains silent as the shorter man elbows past him.

* There are murmurs from the Mothermen Quarters, and the sour basenote of aftershave in the reprocessed, monitored, ventilated air. A laugh rises; unanswered. The vestibule before the twin doors of the Mothermen rooms contains two dull metal shower heads. Cold, chlorinated water is pooled under the grating, and sits in the scrubbed, rust stained grout between tiles.  In S_R’s room, two figures converse. Laurence sits on the thin mattress of S_R’s bed. He brushes the neatly folded sheets with an idle hand. His suit jacket lies beside him on the bed. He is wearing navy blue braces the same colour, and thickness, as his tie, and his shoes are glossy, bull-shined over long, monogrammed socks.

[Fairfax] … a frightfully nice man, graced with the poise that experience brings - and a versatile man, Miss Halstead assures me, but not the type of fellow that could possibly manage a Ward of your particular - profile…

*R_V stands before Fairfax. His new leather harness creaks as he breathes. His hands are crossed and held rigidly behind his back.

*S_R halts inside the vestibule, just outside his damn room and hesitates, ears pricking in the rising horror of confirmation as the voices spill out of the ajar door.

[Fairfax] We’ve much in common, you and I. Industrious men... Both of us have laboured tirelessly in the service of our ambitions… Undertook difficult decisions, no? Bold but necessary… Bold but necessary, indeed…

*Laurence lowers his voice, confidentially.

[Fairfax] And though the Captain has no unusual measure of talent, and ghastly social habits, I am satisfied positively that he is committed, Commander.

*Laurence smiles handsomely.

[Fairfax] And I have determined that your partnering is optimal. Like a trim little cardigan and a charming blouse - you’ll go very neatly together…

*R_V smiles widely when the Fairfax finishes talking and nods in agreement, from the corner of his eye he spots S_R making his way into the room and begins to speak loudly and clearly.

[R_V] I’m flattered you think so Sir, you clearly have an eye for this sort of thing - a Ward of my standing being in a position so close to the Captain can only do him, us, well.

*R_V takes a few steps toward the bed, his eyes wandering around the room, he firmly presses down on the bed on his side of the room.

[R_V] Overall I’m just thankful for this opportunity, Facilitator. These living quarters seem to be superior to those aboard the O-WARP itself!

[Fairfax] Oh, you flatter me Commander. They are designed to meet all essential requirements. The welfare of my Wards is of prime importance.

*R_V tilts his head away from Laurence to meet S_R at the doorway with a smug grin on his face, he gestures with his hand towards him.

[R_V] Ah! and there he is now Sir. Greetings, Captain. I believe we’ll be getting to know each other quite well in the times to come.

[Fairfax] Splendid, splendid.

*Laurence does not rise to greet S_R. He crosses his legs, and holds his knee.

[S_R] ...if this is a joke, sir, then I’m really missing the punchline.

* S_R stands in the doorway to the room, one hand gripped against the frame, and the tension running through his jaw is accompanied by an audible squeak of enamel.  His gaze flicks between the standing Commander and the new bed pushed up against the far wall.  ‘Far’ being a technical description - there is barely a good arm’s reach between the two mattresses now, and the Captain’s expression twists violently in distaste before he gets his face back under control.

[S_R] I don’t. Share. My room.  New Intake goes in with the rest of them. Or -

*S_R eyes R_V and his lip curls.

[S_R] - given this one’s behaviour? Containment.  Not here.  Not with me.

*Fairfax turns his cold smile to R_V. [Fairfax] Containment? No, no, your personal supervision will assist the Commander in maintaining his newly assigned role. It is, my boy, a statistical certainty. In return, why, you’ll have an opportunity to demonstrate your improved capacity for interaction and communication with others. And gain an important insight into the conduct of satisfactorily socialised Ward. Did you know the Commander is a Cosmonaut? Isn’t that terribly interesting? Why don’t you shake hands, darlings?

*Fairfax brings his icy, steady glare to S_R.

[Fairfax] Come along. You’ve been doing so well, Captain. Don’t disappoint us.

*S_R’s fingers tighten against the doorframe.

[S_R] I need to supervise him sleeping, do I? Or scratching his ass? That’s how a satisfactorily socialised Ward behaves? This was not our agreeme -

*S_R stops, gritting his teeth as if biting off the words, and pointedly ignores R_V’s outstretched hand.

[S_R] Why not stick him in with C_K? Given their subordinate categories.

[Fairfax] Captain, don’t be silly. You know the girls like to go in with C_K for their nap.

*Laurence turns to R_V.

[Fairfax] My dogs.

*He glances to S_R again, and there is laughter beneath his words.

[Fairfax] Now, no sulking, Captain. Otherwise I’ll have C_C instate a fine for that dreadful frown of yours.

[S_R] Sulking?

*S_R leans forward, suddenly, although his hand doesn’t release the doorframe, and his fingers are shivering on the woodwork.  His eyes narrow as his voice drops.

[S_R] So what’s this really?  Reminding me where I stand?  Because I don’t play nice little Wardlings with those staple-smiled assholes who’re afraid of clouds?  I am good. At what. I do.  This plastic posterboy has no idea what any of that is.  I’m to teach him how to obey basic instructions?  Get some idea how to crack a FAC, because flashing your autograph at a blast door’s about as much fucking good as being a cosmonaut underground.

*Laurence stares at him with smile unfaltering.

[Fairfax] So rare for a Ward to be conversant in humour. Very serviceable faculty. Very…

*He examines the small room, nodding pleasantly. After a moment he settles his cold stare on the man. There is an edge of disappointment in his tone.

[Fairfax] Are you unable to offer some straight-forward guidance to your Brother, Mr. S_R? I thought you… More dependable, actually…

* S_R winces. Not much, and the twitch of expression is easily missed by anyone not versed in scrutiny of the Captain’s face, but it is there.  He straightens up again abruptly, and when he speaks again there is a defensive edge to his voice.

[S_R] I’m not unable -

*Fairfax stands, his hands resting on his hips. He gives S_R a lingering, side-eyed glance before looking once more to R_V.

[Fairfax] I daresay alternative arrangements can be made.

*R_V hurriedly picks up Fairfax’s jacket from the bed as he stands, holding it open with a hand on each side of the collar.

[R_V] You can’t forget your jacket, Sir - I don’t quite think it’s the Captain's style, allow me.

*Fairfax begins to absently step into the jacket, held open by the Ward.

[Fairfax] I mustn’t be disappointed. It’s common enough for the unexceptional amongst us to fail to fulfill our hopes of them. But, still, sad indeed when it comes from a man such as the Captain.

*R_V slides one of Laurence's outstretched hands into the sleeve of the suit jacket, and again with the other side, neatly he folds the upturned collar and steps back.

[R_V] I would not be concerned Facilitator, I shall not be like the Captain, I have tasted the bitterness of defeat and disappointment and have since been corrected, I look at this as an opportunity to excel once again as I have before, hopefully this attitude will rub off on the good Captain here.

[S_R] Try rubbing anything off on me, and I’ll -

[Fairfax] If you were to ask my professional opinion, of course, I’d say that he is uncharacteristically stressed over the minor points of etiquette he must exhibit towards a roommate of high social prestige - fearful, let’s say, of impoliteness and error.

*He turns to S_R. His hooded eyes regard the other man, and with a practiced hand he buttons his suit jacket.

[Fairfax] There there, Mr. S_R. I do apologise for this, Commander - He never usually lets me down.

* S_R hasn't moved. His gaze flicks between Fairfax and R_V, and there is calculation in his eyes. Looks to R_V’s uniform, pressed and perfect; untested; to Fairfax’s weighing stare. Lingering, with a faint twitch to his eyebrows the only outward sign of whatever he is thinking.

[S_R ] ...fine. Fine, sir. Whatever.

He turns to R_V, and his eyes narrow.

[S_R] You. Will do what I tell you; when I tell you. If you're in that uniform?  You don't pull rank; you don't pull fame; you don't even breathe loudly.

[S_R] That's as optimal as we are going to get.

*R_V takes a step towards S_R keeping his eyes locked on him, a wide smile spread across his face.

[R_V] Why of course S_R, you are the leader of this… Uniform? Outfit? Team? after all, You shouldn't have a problem with me.

*R_V slaps his arm onto the upper half of S_R’s, giving it a tight squeeze whilst smiling and looking between S_R and Fairfax.

[R_V] A pleasure, Captain, to be on your team.

[Fairfax] … Capital.

*With all three men standing in the small room, it is cramped. Fairfax turns away to examine S_R’s scant possessions, lifting and turning them with disinterest.

[Fairfax] I do hope you'll give consideration to the Commander's distinguished character and very substantial achievements, Captain. Mr. R_V exhibits nothing but goodness and correctness in all aspects of his behaviour.

S_R yanks his arm out of R_V’s grasp, before meeting the other Ward’s gaze with an unconcealed scowl.

[S_R] As long as he knows how to exhibit silence.

[Fairfax] He'll make a charming companion. You could borrow a chess set. Nothing but light-hearted fun and games together in here. Why, I'm rather jealous, actually.  

[S_R] ...you have him, then. I don't need charming.

*Fairfax’s hand pauses over S_R’s reading glasses. He lifts them delicately and distastefully. Dark rimmed and flattering, they are non-standard issue. Through the lenses the room is minutely blurred to his focus. He rests them on the counter once more, thoughtful.

[Fairfax] My tests are very rigorous, Captain.

*His fingers gently touch the cheap embossing of S_R’s plain grey metal lighter.

[Fairfax] The numbers simply don’t lie. You are compatible. Now. You know my time is very valuable, and dear C_C will scold me terribly if I linger. I am trusting you two boys to conduct yourselves properly. No pillow fights. Hmmm?

[S_R] Compatible.

[R_V] If there is trouble it won’t be from me Sir, I can assure you.

Disgust darts across S_R’s face as he glances at R_V again, looking him up and down with a fresh sneer on his lips.

[S_R] ...I’m not going to fuck him.

*Fairfax turns, and straightens. He steps closer to the shorter man and there is a moment of silence before he speaks.

[Fairfax] What a terribly sordid little mind you have, Captain.

[S_R] Just making sure we're entirely clear. Sir.

[R_V] Such things only prove to be a distraction Captain, you should clear your mind of such thoughts.

[S_R] I’m glad to say these arrangements will make that easier than ever.

[Fairfax] Your Brother has only the purest Fraternal Affection for you, Mr. S_R. If you must keep him up after dark do try to ensure that it is with wholesome conversation alone.

*Laurence smiles handsomely. He winks, once, at the Captain.

[Fairfax] I look forward to an improvement to your general morale, Mr. S_R.