"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
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He's alright. No scratches or bumps. ( jason made sure of that, ) Might need someone else to hold onto him.
( meaning: get the fuck up here, loki. a two means he's fine, a few cuts, but those'll heal fast enough. jason trusts him enough to open his mouth and say something if it was worse. for now, he keeps his eyes forward. watches the road. )
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he holds his bloody hand to the side by the hoodie, keeping it out of sight for the moment. there's a faint frown at the child, like he's not quite sure what to do with him now that he's saved him. ]
Come now, [ he tries to be careful. ] Why don't you come over here?
[ the kid rubs his eyes with tiny fists, reluctant to detach from Jason. oh no the child is crying. oh no. oh no what is he going to do?
especially when the kid uses another hand to grab his hoodie. he would die for this child but somehow that seems easier than comforting the small thing. ]
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but driving with an unpredictable, crying toddler pressed close to him probably isn't the safest way to go about this. and it'd be suspicious, if some stupid policeperson decided to actually do jack shit.
they haven't been, that's not the point. it's easy to hold him out, to drop the child into loki's arms, raise a hand up to pat against loki's shoulder before he's shifting back and putting both hands onto the wheel. )
Just don't jostle him around too much, he'll be fine.
( wishful thinking. a child left in a shower, parentless--the chances of that turning out alright? low. but jason can't do jack shit about that, either; he can barely take care of himself most days, let alone a small, needy child who won't know how to handle jason when he loses his shit. he remembers growing up with parents like that, wouldn't wish having to deal with it on anyone. )
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it's not seconds before he does that when the toddler curls small fists in his hoodie and starts to weep again. Loki's hands hover above him for a moment, back like the poor kid might be on fire. it takes a moment for him to figure out what to do with himself, to place a palm on his back and let out a sigh. mortals were so fragile, children moreso. it tugs something along his insides that's deliberately uncomfortable, but the stark reminder of a former incarnation fades as he steadies himself. ]
Will he? For now, I suppose. [ his voice gets quiet. ] I've seen and caused countless horrors, but this is monstrous.
no subject
jason saw a lot of fucked up shit as a child, and look how he turned out. no need to give this little guy even more reasons to need to go through therapy. )
We'll get them. ( quietly. voice low but steady. he'd yell, bitch and scream but the small shaking form that's clutched to loki's chest is enough to keep jason from losing his shit. ) All of 'em. Everyone who was behind this.
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they've got to do their best now. ]
There is something deep at the heart of this world. [ he says with a release of his shoulders. ] Something painful. I can't see it, but I know the feeling well enough.
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still plenty of people to save and other children they have to look out for too, right? )
This world's not the only one.
( his own's fucked up. maybe not as technologically advanced as this, as dead as this planet but it's still fucked. he's sure loki understands that, too. all things considered. ) C'mon, we're close.
no subject
[ with some reluctance, Loki gathers the child who makes a few noises that suspiciously sound like he may threaten to cry, before he opens the door and steps out. there's a murmur of come on now, you little beast as his boots step against the cement.
his own world is on the brink of it's own inevitable collapse, though he's only half-aware of the extremity to which the Illuminati have pushed their own reckoning. ]
And it's his to inherit.
[ that makes Loki frown a bit, as if he had just come to that realization.
there's a half-glance behind them to make sure they're not being watched. ]
no subject
just two dudes walking down the street after exiting a hover car with a toddler, nothing weird to see here. )
Might even be ours, if we can't find the door out.
( not a topic jason wants to really. stay on; the potential of being stuck here, but what getting a way out would mean, too. so he doesn't stay on that topic long at all, leads loki off towards the safehouse at an unhurried pace. )
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there's a brush of hair against Jason's chin that's longer now, and slimmer shoulders where they were wider. while certain they weren't watched, Loki preformed a shift of her own. the toddler is still curled in her arms, dozing and unaware of the change. they almost look like a proper family—stress on almost.
hopefully no one looks too closely. ]
Or the window, for that matter. Let's not think about that, eh? There's always a way out.
[ and she always manages to find the exits. ]
no subject
Or a window, or an airvent.
( he's not interested in looking too deep into it. leaving is another can of worms jason doesn't want to get into. )
Just a few more blocks, we'll drop him off with someone nice and get back to work.
no subject
she doesn't know what's worse—the UNA not taking the child, or the child being left alone.
the walk is short, and she has Jason cover her back as she takes the child into the safehouse. when she unloads him into the arms of someone else, she's both relieved and oddly at a loss. it's a discomfort she doesn't like when she trails outside, her lips slightly pursed. ]
Let's go.
[ there were more children to save. ]
If they're leaving kids alone, then we've certainly got our work cut out for us.