"High noon" still has a resonating historical significance not lost on the people of New Amsterdam. Old cowboy movies, complete with John Wayne standing in a dusty, old street are imprinted upon people's memories, helping them recall a simpler past where grudges could be settled with guns. By 2511, these movies have been remade countless times over with different set pieces, but nostalgia continues to be an ever-present factor. It's not nostalgia that drives the UNA soldiers and Morningstar agents into position during this hour, but the time itself serves as a reminder. A call to a different time and a different past.
Outside, the sun burns bright, but people sleep soundly, shades drawn securely over their windows to create a false darkness. This is why the UNA strikes at noon: their targets will be vulnerable, comforted by the presence of daylight only a drawn shade away,
Across town, Morningstar's agents are preparing for their own strike. One of them makes a joke about the non hour. He's told to shut it. They have fifteen minutes. Is everyone ready? Their uniforms are black, tightly fitting. Each of them pulls their mask over their faces. Up ahead, there's a wall to scale.
Fifteen minutes and the plan goes into motion. Each agent knows the costs of this mission. Their last one ended up with numerous dead – lost – with no reward. UNA soldiers are far more threatening than the armed guards Morningstar faced on that day, but the reward is more sure. Worth the risk. They're secure in what they need to do.
Then it's time. Across the city, the UNA soldiers descend in perfect unison. Separate but thinking with one mind, one goal. Eliminate a festering problem, one that only stands to grow in a world haunted by chaos and trauma. It's their job to set things right. To restore order to a world that is currently without.
About forty five minutes in to the widespread assault, El sends out a message to everyone in the safehouse. This time, zeir communication is immediate, without the steady scrolling of text. Prepared in advance:
Hey, so. Emergency everyone. Come to the safehouse ASAP. Morningstar agents are in trouble, including a number who have helped you behind the scenes. Gaby will tell you more once you get there.
Once everyone shows up, crowded inside the part of the safehouse with the cots, Gaby gives everyone the rundown. The risk. The place where the rest of the agents are – this last bit of information being shared with an uneasy edge, arms crossed and body language giving off her discomfort. There are other people at risk, people who can't fight, who try to undermine the corporations with their regular lives, doing their best to keep the people they care about safe from their rebellious activity.
After she hands out the gear, she insists that it must be returned. But Gaby isn't stupid. Her desperation is inherent in her decisions, in the information that follows: exposing most of the inactive safehouses, giving away the addresses of the people likely in danger. Every Morningstar contact in New Amsterdam is likely at risk. So far, agents in other megacities aren't being targeted – yet. But this operation could be a model for future UNA efforts to eliminate the Morningstar threat.
The safehouses are spread across the city. Typically present in disheveled and forgotten pieces of real estate, there will be squatters and homeless alike taking up space as they move inside with the agents. This may prove a risk, and they may need to be bribed to go elsewhere, offered food and supplies. Other safehouses will be beneath bars, convenience stores, and through the storage room in less expensive apartment buildings – businesses and buildings owned by long-time Morningstar agents, kept ready in the case of an emergency like this one.
None of the safehouses will be prepared for living with the exception of cots and communal restrooms ready for use. This is a problem, but not a priority. She'll ask that everyone get out there and save the lives of the agents. Bring them and their families in safely – the rest can be figured out after that.
> RESTORING ORDER
Given the limitations over real estate and space even in a city as large as New Amsterdam, every citizen lives in an apartment building. The great majority of them were meant to be built quickly, similar layouts and designs behind them. A quick bit of research will get anyone the floor plans for these places – they're publicly available, ready for potential tenants. Most of these places are no dreamhouse, however: small and contained, they show the lifestyle of the typical Morningstar agent.
Any of the agents with a child – and there will only ever be one per agent, with the restrictions on childbirth – will have a roomier place, with better furnishing and more space for a child to run and grow up. These places will afford the family within better privacy, and many of them have drones and advanced robotics to help maintain the household, even caring for their child and keeping the door locked as the UNA soldiers move inside.
Where it's viable, the majority of UNA soldiers will move through the front door of these buildings. Never numbered over five, these soldiers will take the endless staircase up, erasing what little chances there are to run into anyone along the way. The knocks are just a cover to soothe the close-packed neighbors. Not all are fooled, and that's where the calls to the NAPD come in – though the UNA is prepared for this, too. Ready to assert their jurisdiction. Rather: their bosses are prepared. These soldiers have their orders and beyond that, only follow their orders with their formidable physicality and swift training.
But they are physically assertive: most of them are tall, seemingly without gender within thick black, metal armor. Despite their size and their robotic carapace, they are human underneath. Their extensive armor doesn't slow them down, instead seeming to propel them forward in a fight, letting them predict their enemies' moves as the mask they wear provides diagnostics and likely attacks on the fly. They carry extensive weapons and supplies, all to wear down any opponents. When they fight together, their actions are perfectly complementary.
They won't start a fight, but as soldiers, they are prepared. Though they enter through the front door, they intend to leave through a window, into a large flying vehicle outside, ready to hold the targets and bring them to a temporary dropsite. They don't expect any assailants, anyone to provide trouble – but they wouldn't be very well-trained, well designed if they couldn't expect or deal with the unexpected. They won't shoot unless someone forces the matter. Their training means their stature should be enough to put down most threats.
> A WELL-LAID TRAP
Confident and well-trained, the Morningstar agents have the plan ahead of them all mapped out. They know the shifts, the patrol patterns, especially at hours like this one. Fewer, right now, but they aren't nonexistent. Several strike teams spread out, ready to move to dismantle the UNA soldiers on site as needed. These are combat-trained agents, but five versus three UNA soldiers, or two, or even one still leads to odds where they don't win. Morningstar knows these soldiers intimately, has studied and discerned their few weaknesses. But these UNA soldiers are formidable opponents.
UNA Soldiers en route to Morningstar's goal will be handled with an eerie lack of follow-up. No reports of reinforcements incoming. The swift-moving Morningstar agents are too focused on their goal, which is close now, to worry about the implications. Besides, their information told them most agents would be away on training exercises. Reinforcements being delayed is no surprise.
Each agent has their own reason for being here, for believing that Morningstar needs to be more proactive, more forceful in fighting back. They aren't career soldiers, but people who thought that they could wield a gun and change a world that hides its problems under false promises and shimmering gloss. Many are impatient, frustrated: they were given a lead on weapons in June. They weren't mislead then, at least not intentionally, but what they got instead was a bus full of disoriented people. This cache is real, verified, and vulnerable, housed here temporarily before being moved for some unknown operation.
Once the Morningstar agents are all inside, the concealed UNA soldiers left at the base line up in formation. Perfectly tailored for the fight ahead, they move onto the site. Any agents on lookout duty will see the UNA moving in, ready to lay waste to anyone in there. This is a trap, they message frantically. The very real weapons inside are meant to mock with false hope.
The UNA aren't worried about Morningstar making off with their toys. After all, this is just as planned.
> INTERLUDE
Numerous officers pass by the holding cells in the NAPD's twelfth precinct, talking softly about what can they even do, muttering to themselves. Others pop a squat nearby and call it a well-earned day off. Let those soldiers take care of whatever mess they're cleaning up. That's not their job.
It's around this time that a third, unidentified group, takes advantage of the chaos. Well-dressed despite what is a late hours right now, they head into the precinct to take care of a dangling loose end. They show credentials that link them to New Beijing's governing body and personal security, they claim the men temporarily known as Tak and Alexei. As they're brought out of their cells, they're injected with the same compulsory drug as always, leaving them veritable walking zombies at first, leaving them unable to speak or act as they're given orders that tell them to do otherwise.
The records of these men will disappear with this action, the two of them swept away into the back of an expensive four-door sedan. The whole incident erased. Two somehow anonymous men didn't kill semi-innocent bystanders during the festival. As long as the records can be trusted, that was a fantasy. A whimsy.
Morningstar cameras will see this sedan stop near the current safehouse, near the typical entrance, and order Hei and Jake out. "Stay here. Sit down. Don't do or say anything until someone comes to retrieve you. It'll be a bit – they're tied up right now."
The man in the passenger seat in the front rolls down his window, leaning forward on his arm. His face is concealed, utilizing technology that's not the same but not dissimilar to what Morningstar has at their disposal. "Try not to do anything else too stupid, will you? The cops are gonna have a bug up their asses about you idiots."
And then the sedan rolls away, lifting up and passing through the city. Morningstar cameras will spot a specific – or perhaps the more apt word is "suspicious" – lack of license plate.
> MEDI-UNITS
Each of the safehouses were designed for the worst case scenario. There is a medi-unit in all of the safehouses, a large and complex machine that can heal most ills, but given the expensive nature of their design and the risk of using them, they're not used lightly.
The medi-units are reserved for the direst of needs. come into play. Dependent on a person's time of death to bring them back to the living, they need the exact time so that someone can clock it in and prepare the restoration process correctly. There are many risks in lacking that information – someone may come back damaged, unhealed, hurt in some way. They may not live for long. Assuming that a body is brought in with a time of death, they'll be directed to a safehouse with a free unit.
The person is kept in a medically induced coma while the machine repairs their body. What dreams someone experiences will be at the end point – which can be between 48 and 60 hours – as they slowly surface, starting to return to the world of the living. As they surface, their mind will be encumbered by images of bright blue lights glowing, swirling, communicating – but language seems thoroughly out of reach.
Once the medi-unit opens, the person inside will be thirsty. Desperate for water. But there will be no other signs of the wear and tear on their bodies.
> FINAL OOC NOTES
Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. The outcome for this event will depend upon character plans and actions developed in both this OOC post, and any additional plots brought to the moderators. Please feel free to submit any game-changing plans to us under the questions thread – but we will be reading all comments on the post!
The Operation will continue until September 11, IC time. An aftermath wrap up post will be made on January 26 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event.
As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by FEBRUARY 23 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.
Our Activity Check will be posted tomorrow, January 20, at 9 PM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on January 27. We will not post a warning list.
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meadowlarklogs2019-01-19 09:58 pm
no subject
there's black on black, dark boots and Morningstar-issued gloves. while he may not look like he has weapons on him, they're tucked away beneath folds and pockets in several places to make them accessible if needed. while he trusts his own method of improvisation, it never hurts to come prepared.
a wicked little smirk, oozing confidence is offered back. ]
Don't flinch.
[ which is an affirmative, because he's turning and wrapping his knuckles on the door, leaning on one hip like he's here to sell insurance. it's a briefest of warning, before he inches back, turns his body and slams it into the crutch of the door. it makes a noise—he's certain that they'll be heard—but they can't wait for someone to simply let them in. the metal whines, and Loki does it again, it finally gives. (there's more umph behind his slim frame than it looks like.)
there's certain to be a frightened family inside. ]
Come on, go.
[ Cain first—they're only gentleman here. ]
no subject
A mental timer begins, awareness of this window they've carved out: precious minutes to extract the family before the soldiers ascend the stairwell like hunting dogs on a scent-trail, exacting and precise.
Inside finds two adults, wrapping robes over sleepclothes, and a small child hiding behind the shield of their bodies.]
Morningstar sent us, [he says brusquely, waving a gloved hand. Familiar tech, he hopes.] Your position's been compromised. Gonna get you out, c'mon, somebody carry the kid.
[From down the hall, down the stairs: the drumming thud of synchronous footsteps. He casts a dark look at Loki.] They're gonna block our path out. We should hide in the hall or another apartment, sneak past 'em.
[The mother of the family speaks up. Our neighbor, next door, they'll let us in. He watches Loki for confirmation of the plan.] Got any better ideas?
no subject
Loki's half in the door, one foot outside. he can hear them, the pattern of heavy boots, the distinct sound of heavy armor shaped from man-made plastics. fifteen seconds, by his aim—and that's tops. ]
They'll know that someone has already entered. [ there's a vague gesture to the door. ] They won't hang around here long.
[ a pause. ]
If you believe in the integrity of your neighbors, I would go—right about now, actually. We'll draw them in, give us two minutes. Head to the first safe house you know. [ but the family doesn't need any more provocation than that, they begin to collect themselves and head next door, Loki getting a glimpse of the child as he hangs behind. round, terrified eyes and a tired droop to the jaw. there's a set of determination in him ]
You and me? We're going to pretend that they've gone through the window. [ closer, closer, closer. Loki grabs the first chair he sees and shatters the window at the east side. ] I hope you're good at improvising.
[ as some lives depend on it. ]
no subject
Seconds, vanishing.]
Improvising how?
[There's no time for an answer. The first UNA soldier appears in the doorway, gun drawn, examining the wide open entrance of the apartment. Cain spies two more just behind; if they're lucky this will remain an ensemble of three, rather than five.
A tight, tense moment passes, air brittle as a thin sheet of ice -- he turns his head, masked, toward Loki. A quick message flashes privately from one implant to another.]
nows the time
[Otherwise he's going to act, adrenaline a loud drum in his head, and that action is going to be the violence of survival. He's not good at improvisation...]
no subject
he backs toward the window, his voice getting low. it's not directed at Cain, but at the agents with guns steadily lifted with trained fingers. if Cain doesn't ge the idea—well, then they'll play it by ear. ]
You arrived just a tad too late. [ there's a deliberately annoying tilt to his voice that makes it sound like he's won a little victory, grating enough to keep focus on him. ] Unfortunate. [ Loki lifts his hands in the air, as if they were done here. ]
Their orders are deliberate, they'll be looking for the Morningstar agent. We're just a hurdle. Luckily for us, there's more individual thought in a pill of goat excriment than in all 3 of them put together.
If you make a move, make it worth it. We're a distraction now.
[ one agent heads toward the window, the other two training their guns on Cain and Loki.
no one can see it, but there's a smile in his words. ]
Whoopsie. Did we lose them?
i'm sorry for him
He watches Loki bob and weave as that improvisation tactic is made clearer. Goat excrement? Nasty but creative.
Unfortunately for them both, Cain's a looser canon without any set strategy. He's less used to the teamwork that comes out of something besides spaceflight and fighter-specific tasks (namely: shoot down enemy ships lined up in his sights). Spontaneity takes an impulsive edge when he's left to his own devices.
One agent at the window, the other two on them -- attention somewhat tilted toward Loki for speaking. Like two black dogs with ears pricked up.]
shit
shouldve just said that from the start
ready to run?
[Distraction's easy. Unfortunately, he fails to notify Loki of his next move: reaching for the kitchen stool on his left, Cain lifts it in a quick upward haul and slams it over one soldier's head. The chair rattles hard and crashes to the ground, and the soldier stumbles forward. Cain is in motion, dashing out the door and into the hall. The impulsive intent is to be chased away from where the family is hidden.]
this is exactly how things should go
Loki turns his body out of the way from what would have otherwise been a clear shot. ]
👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎
0/10 THUMBS DOWN!!! I'm writing a poor review!
Ymir's frozen testicles!!! After that stunt I'm assuming you'll cover me!
But yes I'm always ready to run.
[ he knocks the soldier's feet from under them, his hand going into some strap beneath his hoodie for what looks like a police grade steel bladed knife. the other soldier gets rammed in the back, hard, with Loki's shoulder, and falls partially forward through the broken window. ]
no subject
IM CONCENTRATING
[The thumb-down emojis flash insistently across his vision, earning a curse and rolled eyes as he skids around a corner and kneels, gun held in secure hands. As soon as Loki follows in his path, Cain will aim past him to provide the coverage of peppered bullet-spray.
Not an effective permanent solution, but it will buy a fair amount of time for Loki to get himself safe. The soldiers are already hot on their trail.
He wonders, then, if his powers will work here with these new soldiers... or if they'll have communicated with the others. He hopes he won't have to try.]
how do we get out of the building
[He's not smart enough to have checked for the nearest available fast exit.]
no subject
[ the text comes with the tilt of challenge, but a playful enough needle that it more indicative that Loki's not exactly sweating the situation. so, things got interesting—it's not entirely according to plan, but what fun ever was?
the bullets are—well—inelegant in nature according to Loki (because guns, really), but he works with it. he ducks and dances on his heels, barely missed by one of the UNA agents. Loki darts out the door with Cain and down the opposite end of the hallway (bearing in mind which way the family would have run). ]
Oh- I haven't a clue.
I suppose that we'll have to keep improvising. Don't tell me you're getting tired already.
no subject
[Cain's not thinking as he spews off the text message, brain focused on the rapid-fire of bullets, angling to be enough of a pest for the soldiers that Loki can get into cover. Once he's there, Cain ducks backward himself around the corner and makes a dash for the nearest exit. Before they can reach the stairwell, the thud of boots - spiraling up, endless and synchronized - stops him short.
A quick eye spots what appears to be a utility closet to their left. Cain kicks it open (blessedly unlocked) and reaches to drag Loki inside. He gets as far as grabbing Loki's arm before whipping back and tripping over his feet like he's been clotheslined.]
what the FUCK
why are you A FUCKING BRICK WALL
[Suffice to say he wasn't expecting to move someone over four-hundred pounds.]
no subject
Cain takes the lead and Loki follows after without complaint. well, maybe just a little complaint. the soldiers are quick despite their heavy armor, and Loki spits a few choice Asgardian curses that generally include both his father and descriptive word for shit.
with compliancy rather than defiance, Loki follows the first useless tug and squeezes into the closet with Cain. ]
You could have asked nicely.
[ nice, he says, wedged between a few technological cleaning gadgets. he's trying not to press buttons with his shoulder, but it's tight. ]
no subject
A few of the devices earn a glance, scrutinizing, as if to decide whether they might be useful in fending off their pursuers. Cain keeps his gun tucked and pointed well away from an accidental mishap between the two of them.]
didnt really have time
[He studies him as best he can in the shadow, wondering why it felt he'd tried to haul a concrete block. No one Loki's size should be so dense. It'll be useful to know:]
so whats your special power
no subject
ah—yes, the rest. they're in a closet. ]
I shapeshift- well, I used to shapeshift before, but this is a little, itty, bitty bit different.
But I can't exactly tell in what way.
Not exactly useful, unless you want a foxy distraction.
You?
[ there's still their own escape to think about. he wonders if Cain is too squishy to throw out of a four story window. ]
no subject
move things
like make em disappear and come back in a different place
[He wonders if it could be used here, but there's the constriction of size. So he amends:]
nothing big
not a person
why cant you tell how its different
no subject
Ah, I can, it's just better suited over a dark ale. The abridged, running-for-your-life version is sadly lacking.
[ he can hear the footsteps outside the door, the echoes off the stairwell as the UNA agents search for them. it won't be long until they're found. it's about time for a loose plan. ]
Hm, so- do you think you can you do it with bullets?
no subject
That question distracts Cain.]
uh what
like what do you mean
ive done it to their armor but if the bullets moving... thats probably too fast
i gotta concentrate
no subject
What about part of the staircase?
[ enough to cause issue so that they can get away. ]
I can take care of the rest.
[ that doesn't bode well, but ok Loki. ]
no subject
sure. easy
[Cain's eyes are on him, waiting for some signal.]
you first, sweetheart
no subject
Fine, fine!!!
[ leaning up against the door to stifle the noise, he pauses for dramatic effect. counting down the seconds to some indiscriminate amount of time, he swings it open with a lavish motion of his hand. he takes off running, not caring to check if Cain is behind him (if he's not, that's a different situation all together, but one he'll deal with if the time comes). there's a scramble up the stairs, and not long after that comes the clamor of heavy set boots. ]
Don't disappoint.