[Reya & Fairchild] Patrolling the Rim World

Elyakim, always a corporate mess and usually an underworld one as well. Gangs and syndicates constantly circled around power, inevitably intertwined with whatever could be considered legitimate on the planet. To deal with such business was nothing short of a labyrinth, alliances always shifting and the pathways to trust tangling further every year that passed. At one time, Chorus had been a simple country, barely more than a colony on the outskirts of the galaxy, but now that was far from the case. Unfortunate, for it would save them more time in the present, but at the same time had it stayed a backwater a branch of IMG wouldn't even be located in its capital. The alternatives were... less than desirable, so at least Chorus had that going for it.

Other things, well, they had been asked to help deal with yet another couple of criminal factions threatening the position of the Thieves' Branch. Not that they ever took requests from the actual division, it was moreso that thieves weren't typically all that great at tasks that required at the very least negotiation, and usually more than a bit of violence. They were skilled at both, though the latter had some reservations compared to the past.

However, while Elyakim was not the largest city in the galaxy, far from it, there was still a lot of ground to cover. And so they had decided to divide and conquer. A tad bit more familiar with the area given his last outing there, Leo had turned to the lower sectors of the metropolis, while Eris had taken the opposite route. He held a coffee in his hand, somewhat reluctant to have gotten up so early though aside from a sparse few yawns it wasn't all that obvious. Well, his hair was a bit of a mess, but given its length it still didn't amount to much. Besides, the time meant not too many people were occupying the streets just yet, especially the farther he travelled from downtown.

Soon enough, he stood in one of the narrow cross-sections of alleys that were typically host to a plethora of illicit activities. It was devoid of most everything though, except for a few trash cans and a drug addict moaning in pain at the sunlight that had found purchase on the walls. Paying the man no mind, Leo continued down the street, drawing a few glances from some other patrons kicked to the curb, but he guessed it was most likely because he looked unfamiliar rather than out of place. Indeed, his attire of ripped, bleached jeans, old boots with their soles nearly worn out, and an old gray t-shirt was far from the usual quality of his clothing, but in such an environment it couldn't really be avoided. His favorite black jacket was thrown on top of the ensemble, hiding the revolver tucked into his waistband and blades found on his person.

The question on Leo's mind had little to do with fashion, however, he pondered what would be the easiest way to delve into the society found under the surface, previous attempts having the result of being more so dragged into the action. Yes, he had a severe lack of connections to Chorus, but what better time would it be to make some then when under some pressure? The saying was that opportunity could always be found around the corner, after all, even as he turned down another road to a gathering place, of sorts.

Chorus was definitely the closest place to home she had been in a long time. Most of her training had been in bases off the core worlds. They were remote in feel, but never far from the main bastions of civilization. The capital, though... it was a bit different than what she was used to.

It wasn't her first time here, by an means, but it was hard to tell that, by looks alone; Jak stood out like a sore thumb.

She had touched down almost half an hour ago, but her stomach still didn't feel quite right. Something about FTL just made her feel queasy. She had bought some random bit of skewered meat from a shitty roadside stall, and it seemed to be helping settle her stomach a little... but she still couldn't shake the feeling. The meat was stringy and dry, more jerky than a kabob... but it wasn't terrible. After ripping the last piece of meat off the skewer, she quickly snapped it with her thumb, tossing the stick onto a nearby, overflowing trash bin.

"Right... so where tha hell am I?" she resolved, trying to orient herself to the semi-familiar locale.

She hadn't been looking long, but reports from the area indicated that the local police didn't need any outside help, so... Checking up on family squabbles it was. Still, that meant that she actually would have to remember how to get to one of the Rousseau safe houses in the slums. She had only been to it a few times before, with Granpa Nox, so her memory was a bit fuzzy.

"It's named something stupid..." she murmured, "... was it... Dohlenstraße?"

She checked her commlink, searching for the name in the database. Nothing. After a few more Boscan names, pertaining to birds, she eventually found what she was looking for: Rabengasse, located in the so-called "lower quarter". Once she had her destination, it didn't take long to make her way there. A few people scarpered upon seeing her, though Jak didn't bother giving chase; she already knew that there were bigger fish to fry. She was approaching a familiar hovel when some movement caught her eye: a flash of purple, a shock of blond hair, and clothes far nicer than what most people around here were wearing.

"Fuckin'..." she quickly bemoaned her poor luck, booking after the suspect as fast as she could. "HALT! Ich habe etwas zu fragen!"

She ducked into the alley just in time to see a line of trash cans being knocked to the floor, the rapid movement of hard-soled shoes resounding somewhere ahead of her. Jak didn't let it slow her down, following the sound, more than the routes that were available. A few moments went by, and the direction suddenly changed. A few more seconds, and he was somewhere behind her. Fucking teleportation magic. But after so many quick jumps, Jak figured his magical reserve would be about dry. Now she just had to find out where he was, and catch up to him.

"OUTTA THE WAY ASSHOLE! OFFICIAL BUSINESS!"

She hollered, knocking a wailing addict out of her path. She was gaining on the man in black. She could see that the sleeves of his coat were pushed up, revealing several bracelets, rings and tattoos. His head was almost entirely shaved, save for a tuft of dishwater blond hair that flopped into his face as he ran. He turned his attention to Jak, mocking her with a childish grin and a hyena-esque cackle. 

"You ain't neva' gonna catch me, Schmier!"

His laughter was cut short when he ran-full force into someone he hadn't noticed. The smell of fresh coffee filled the street.

---

((OoC: Who did he hit? Is it Leo? Is it not? IDK. That's up to you to decide!))

Boring, boring, boring, every person he ran across seemed mundane in their own twisted ways - bums, lackeys, not a single individual that struck the chord of importance. Of course, there were always facades, disguises, and false identities, but beneath them inevitably laid a key factor, motivation. Nigh impossible it was to wipe off one's face, and all those loitering in the sector seemed to lack it, or so he had surmised thus far. Quickly did he pick up the distant sound of clattering metal, followed by the yelling of a woman in which he picked up the word official over all others. Immediately, he jumped to the conclusion that she was either a member of a local gang or law enforcement, the latter of which made him groan internally. The chance of the former was too tantalizing, however, and so Leo did not walk away from the scene, pausing instead and turning about toward the direction of the ruckus.

Just in time to catch sight of a man unintentionally charging right at him, pursued by the woman he had heard before. Leo sidestepped, but it was too late, the man barreled into his shoulder full speed. While his personal reaction was little, he has been hit with far worse before, after all, from his hand did the cup he had been holding fly out of it, spilling its near scalding contents onto the hapless intruder of personal space. Irritated and just a tad bit irrational due the time of day, Leo drew his revolver and pointed it in the direction of the man, pulling back the hammer simultaneously.

"It's 7 o'clock in the morning and you just happened to spill my coffee," he spat, before continuing with a lower tone of voice. "If the chances weren't extremely likely that your friend is with the law, there would be a bullet embedded your skull right about now."

Of course, such threat was not entirely tactless, after all, the woman had been chasing him so therefore he had to have some value to her, perhaps someone a bit higher up on the echelons of the underworld than the multitude of eyes that had begun to focus on the scene. Certainly his clothing suggested such, even though he sported an absolutely horrendous hairdo the rest of his attire was a far cry above everything else in the slum.

"So, what's his crime other than atrociously bad insults and a terribly unfortunate spill?" Leo asked, directing his attention to the... elf? Yes, she had pointed ears like other members of the race, but her skin tone did seem just a tad off, as if she had decided to take a summer vacation and had stayed in the sun for a bit too long. Perhaps that was simply the case, although there was something else strange that he couldn't quite place. It didn't really matter to him, however, such would be more than hypocritical, and so he moved on in his analysis, to the clothing she wore.

Clothing wasn't really the right word for it, she wore metal plate that to a degree was a blast from the past for him, although it was still occasionally donned in the present. Indeed, his first thought when he had set his yellowed gaze upon her was that she was a knight, but it was quickly replaced with the proper term for the era, an ISC officer. Granted, the Knights of Fiore did still exist, but he had heard a touch of Boscan in her earliest echoed words which would be unlikely in the latter group. In any case, Leo offered a smile, glancing back at the man for a brief moment to ensure he had not tried to run off.

The man in black was rolling on the ground, cussing and wiping the coffee out of his eyes. The man he ran into was stood over him, saying something before turning his attention towards Jak.

"So, what's his crime other than atrociously bad insults and a terribly unfortunate spill?"

“You forgot about his cheap cologne and just being a dick in general.” she responded, dryly, giving the man a sharp kick in the ass, “Give it up, Dalton. You know you could never outrun me.”

“Fuck off!”

Jak didn’t really pay him much attention, putting one boot down on his chest so he couldn’t run off, and turning her attention back to the man whose coffee was currently soaking through to Dalton’s tacky paisley dress shirt. Jak considered herself a pretty good judge of character, and, to her, it seemed like this guy was just a random dude who got caught up in something he didn't really care about. And that was fine. He had still been a tremendous help, even if he didn't expressly mean to be.

“Thanks for the assist, Citizen. Sorry about the coffee.” she introduced, reaching a hand out in greeting, “I’m Second Lieutenant Jacqueline Rousseau of the ISC.”

“This little asshole,” she said, digging her boot in, “Has some information I need about some criminal activity going on in this area.”

“Ain’t that right, Dalton?”

Dalton grumbled angrily for a bit, muttering something under his breath. Jak sighed, scooping him off the ground and into a standing position, holding a tight grip on the collar of both his shirt and jacket. She leaned in aggressively, getting right up in Dalton's face.

“What was that?”

“I said yer a bit-”

Dalton was cut off by a swift punch to the gut, the wannabe gangster giving a tiny yelp in response. After a few moments, he managed to compose himself enough to gasp out a retort.

“FUCK! If yer gonna kick my ass, least you can do is take it inside… I gotta reputation, man!”

Jak rolled her eyes, but didn’t really argue. It wasn’t like he was going to do any talking out in the middle of the street anyways. So instead, she let him go, far more roughly than Dalton would have liked, making him stumble backward a few steps before he regained his footing. She lowered her voice a bit, in an attempt to keep the random passerby from listening in.

“Fine. We’re going to your place. And you can let me know all about the big fish, been swimming ‘round this pond.”

Dalton turned, brushing off his sleeves and pants for a moment before looking at Jak with a sneer in his heart. Still, he knew that there wasn’t really much point in fighting her. Other than his portals, he was pretty much a one-trick pony and they both knew it. So, instead, Dalton reached in front of him, poking a finger into seemingly thin air. His hand changed as he did it, into some black, dessicated thing you’d see from a mummy or ghoul. With a quick motion, he dragged his finger downward, the interior of a small home visible through the portal he had just created.

“Dalton works for cash, Jackie” he scoffed, “You know the rules. You want info, you pony up the cash. No discounts. ‘specially not fer feds.”

”So, business as usual, then?”

Dalton sneered again, and stepped through the portal, with Jak moving to follow suit. However, before she could enter, a hand stopped her approach. It was Dalton, staying true to his reputation as a massive asshole. He gave a little 'tut tut', wagging his finger as Jak as he backed away from her.

“You can take the long way, Jackie. I don’t want a Nonner stinkin’ up my portals!”

With a cackling laugh and a snap of his fingers, the portal was closed, leaving Jak alone in the street with Coffee Man and a deeply-felt rage towards her little cousin. He was always such a little shit growing up, but ever since Jak joined the ISC he’s been a particular bastard. Jak wanted to scream: to get some kind of cathartic release after such a frustrating encounter… but in the end, she realized that it wouldn’t look great. Part of the reason she was even here was to help instill some confidence in the ISC. Seeing a lieutenant stomping and yelling in the street wasn’t likely to do that. Instead, she resolved that she’d just have to give him an earful later.

“God, I wanna kick his ass” she muttered under her breath.

However, it was about this time that she realized that Coffee Man was still nearby, quickly startling herself to attention.

“Sorry about that!” Jak fumbled, “I- well… It’s hard to explain, and I probably shouldn’t? But… Yeah. Hi. Sorry. What did you say your name was again?”

At the very least, the woman had a sense of humor, which although it wasn't necessarily enough for Leo to drop his guard typically law enforcers that possessed such a quality were a little more relaxed when it came to rules and regulations. He smirked for a moment, withdrawing as she pinned the man apparently known as Dalton down with her foot, flipping the hammer of Argentate back up and spinning the gun about his trigger finger before returning it to its previous location of concealment. "No worries," Leo answered the lieutenant, the ever slight tug of satisfaction flowing over him as his prediction had been affirmed by her words. Not that it was all that surprising, given that she was likely on duty and therefore informed to 'keep the peace', however often members of the ISC, along with other organizations, went undercover to investigate criminal activities, like she what she was attempting to draw out of Dalton now.

Rousseau, the surname sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place where from. Maybe an old acquaintance, a long dead student, or someone a little less desirable, but whoever they were clearly they had lived in a time far from the present. Such a sentiment was far from abnormal in his day-to-day life, a collection of vaguely important names disjointed from any true form had collected in his mind over the years, and occasionally Leo would meet an individual sharing one. In all likelihood, there was no relation, and any relation wouldn't matter anyway, after so many generations.

He accepted Jacqueline's handshake, though it was a bit delayed as he brought himself out of his thoughts. Before he could get a chance to reply, though, she had moved on to the man on the ground. Leo wasn't offended, however, it was clear as she spoke to Dalton that they likely had a common interest in the man. He was more than a bit apprehensive if it would come to working with the lieutenant, but it had more to do with his past experiences than anything about the woman in particular. For that reason he didn't simply walk away, after all he knew how to appeal to those on the side of law, it was just the matter that he really didn't like doing it.

It quickly became evident that Jacqueline had a personal connection to Dalton of some sort, beyond a run-in or two on the streets at that. Insults aside, she had clearly used him for information before, which likely meant he was at least a somewhat reliable source. The magic he exhibited was a bit strange, what with the transformation of his hand, yet neither party seemed in the least bit surprised. It was takeover magic, most likely, but there was an odd taint to it. No, it wasn't an entirely unusual occurrence, at least for him, but still something to note.

A bit perplexingly, the lieutenant soon let her captive go, an action Leo personally wouldn't have taken - threatening the man's life would have been much easier - but nonetheless Jacqueline seemed to be honor bound, or something. He soon chuckled, however, as she turned her attention back to him. "I never actually got around to saying it. Seeing as you went for the more formal side of introductions, Dr. Leonidas Aglaeca, member of IMG. Leo's fine, though."

He paused for a moment, then continued. "I think we may have a common interest, of sorts. I was hired to eliminate some of the criminal organizations down here by some of the more... morally upright businesses in the area, but I haven't had much luck as of yet. If it helps, I can pay whatever price he's asking for the intel." Hired wasn't exactly the right word, but it was close enough to the truth that explaining the latter would only be a waste of time.

For a moment, Jak felt a bit uneasy. While for the most part, the IMG had a pretty clean reputation, there were murmurs of a more sinister aspect of the organization. Let alone the fact that even when they were technically doing good, they often were… uncooperative. Apparently, this was because some contracts required very specific requirements to be met. Requirements that often didn’t fit in with most police forces’ definition of justice. Still, as far as Jak was concerned, since his contract was about taking down local criminal aspects… he could probably be trusted, though she would have to set some provisions. First of all, though, she needed to know what exactly he was looking for.

“Criminal organizations? By any chance do you have, uh… any names, or locations?”

Jak held her breath. Normally, her family wasn’t known by their real names: some sort of ancient superstition that most everyone in the Rousseau line held… But there were definitely a few favorite pseudonyms that she dreaded hearing. After hearing what Leo had to say, she let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, it seemed like Leo wasn't looking for anyone she knew directly. Even better, it seemed like no one in the family was likely at risk.

“Right… well. Here’s the deal: I’ve got contacts round this city. Not many, but they’ve got good information. If you want access, we can team up… but we do it my way.”

“Nothing major, just that we don’t escalate unless it’s absolutely necessary.” she explained, “And no excessive force. Sound good?”

After getting an answer that was… good enough… Jak beckoned Leo along, explaining that Dalton’s safehouse wasn’t far from here. When he had seen her approaching, he had ran, partly because they had some bad blood, but partly because of appearances. After all, it wouldn’t look very good for any self-respecting “crim” to be casually inviting a fed into his home. So, partly because of that, and partly because they kind of hated one another, a strange sort of pageantry started to develop every time they met. And it still wasn’t over. So they would have to do a little bit of... acting. In order to protect her source. After a few more minutes of walking and talking, they arrived back at the ramshackle two-level apartment, one of only a few which the Rousseau family used when operating in Elyakim.

“This is the place.” Jak announced, loudly, “I saw him run off from here before I lost sight of him.”

Jak peeked into the window, seeing the first floor entirely dark, save for a few blinking lights. Jak got down on one knee, pulling a set of lockpicks from a hidden pouch on her waist.

“Hey, keep an eye out,” she asked, “Don’t want him sneaking up on us breaking into his place.”

The door wasn’t locked, Jak knew as much, but she still made an effort to make it look like she was having difficulty picking the lock. After a few moments, she let out an exaggerated, exasperated sigh, rising to her feet and putting the lockpicks back where they came from. After a quick set of glances around, Jak smashed the door’s frame with a powerful kick, the door swinging open with a crash. A few people looked up, but most were smart enough to ignore something that wasn’t their problem.

“C’mon, let’s get inside.”

Jak hit a switch on the wall, and the room exploded with light and sound. A radio blared to life in one corner of the room as the small blinking lights were joined by harsh, incandescent bulbs from above. She closed the door as soon as she could, drawing the shades almost immediately after. Once the radio was turned down to half volume, steps could be heard coming down the small staircase in the corner of the room.

“Didja hafta fuck my door, Jak?” Dalton whined, “I mean really I-”

When Dalton saw who was accompanying Jak, he startled back, nearly falling down the stairs when he did.

“You-ah-fuck! The Fuck is he doin’ here???”

---

((OoC: So, there we go. We have our little shit weasel, in a sufficiently scared state that he will more or less tell Leo anything that he wants to know. Of course, if he fears for his life, he's probably gonna portal the fuck outta there with the magic he used before, so... Obviously you'll have to play it a little less harsh than the first time you spoke to him, but... there you go


On a different note, obviously you don't have to agree to Jak's terms, but so long as you don't start talking about how you wanna kill all the crims, she'd probably think that answer was "good enough"))

"Unfortunately no, I'm not all that familiar with Chorus and its inner workings, and the job description wasn't terribly specific. I'm guessing the businesses didn't even want to spare the chance of ruining their image for more details," Leo replied, noting how the officer seemed to be relieved by his answer rather than troubled. Was she simply trying to protect her quote-on-quote sources, or was there something else to it? The one good thing about her being a member of the ISC meant it was likely any criminal ties she had were of the more stable type, the families and syndicates that would be unlikely to try to uproot an established organization such as the branch of IMG on the planet. No, the Thieves' Branch was not nearly as old as some of its counterparts, however for the lifespan of humanity it was not new, either. Event when dealing with the underworld, security was still key, no matter how much Leo sometimes wished it wasn't so.

As Jacqueline explained her terms, he smiled, nodding. "Of course, Lieutenant. It wouldn't do either of us good if I went about committing manslaughter, would it? In my experience, prison is not a very pleasant place, and I've heard there's a lot of paperwork involved, for you." There was not a trace of remorse in his voice; Leo spoke as if the only reason lethal force wasn't a possibility was because she was present. Which was true, he held little regard for those who decided to make things more... complicated than necessary. And there were more than a few people in the galaxy who just wouldn't shut up unless their throats happened to be ripped out, it was just the reality that society refused to acknowledge. Locked away, hate only festered until it was bound to overflow, spilling its contents abroad.

Well, that was half the reason. Not even half, really, if he was being honest with himself he just really didn't fucking care. Plus, there was the other aspect, but he pushed that thought away for the moment. They were nearing their destination anyway, so it didn't really matter. "Is that so...." Leo muttered as the lieutenant spoke louder than before. He then dropped his voice so that only she would be able to hear. "If you're putting up a front for those watching, actions tend to speak louder than words, and purposely being more audible is only going to draw more suspicious attention. The key is to explain - without actually doing so. People will fantasize their own stories well enough"

Jacqueline instructed him to watch the window, in which he did, sort of. "Sure. He's upstairs right now," Leo said, however his back was instead leaned up against the pane, cleaning dirt from under his nails in a bored fashion. Of course, he could pinpoint Dalton's location, to a degree, by the living presence he gave off. No, it certainly was not exact enough to be able fire a bullet at the man, but it was easy to tell that he was above them, and not really moving, either, until Jacqueline opened the door. Leo followed her inside, and watched as the house owner stumbled down his steps, as pathetic as before.

"I'm here to exact my revenge for the coffee you destroyed," Leo joked, although clearly Dalton didn't really take it as such, which was more than a bit amusing. "Information, obviously. What's your price?" He removed his wallet from his pocket, flipping through its contents once before looking back up at the man.

After Dalton responded, he would elaborate. "I work with IMG, and there have been some particular groups causing trouble in the area, as of late. Needless to say, any threats to stability will have to eliminated, but there hasn't been much chat as to who exactly is causing these... disturbances of the pecking order. Which, of course, is where you come in." Indirectly, he was speaking about IMG itself, hoping that the man would pick up on such and the lieutenant would not, although it didn't concern him too much if she were to find out. He hadn't exactly lied in the first place, after all.

Dalton starts chuckling nervously, backing up against the wall.

“Hey, buddy, we’re friends, yeah? How ‘bout we jus’ call it even, eh?” he bargained, clearly worried, “Whaddya need ta know, eh?”

Jak raised an eyebrow at this: normally Dalton wasn’t so quick to skip out on a payday, especially not for the cost of a cup of coffee. Her eyes shifted from her cousin, then back to Leo, wondering why he would have struck such fear into the delinquent’s heart. In the end, she supposed, it didn’t matter. After all, he had made it fairly clear that even though he wasn’t averse to violence, but at the same time, he seemed intent on staying on the right side of the law… for now. On the flipside, once Dalton learned what it was that Leo was looking for, his entire body relaxed, realizing that the ball might actually be in his court for once. He rubbed his hands together, excitedly, as he practically skipped down the stairs.

“Oh!” Dalton beamed, “Oh ho ho! I think yer gonna like this’n, then!”

“Check it out, right? Turns out, we’re all part'a tha same cause, as it were. The Big Guy wanted me ta come down ‘n check out someone who’s been cuttin’ in on our turf. No honor, these lustmolchen. And worse, they ain’t made the right allies.”

“They got a warehouse in the industrial district. Movin’... product. Nuffin’ we normally run wif, but it’s still in our best int’rest to make sure they don’t stick around too long. In case they start gettin’ ideas to expand, yeah?”

“But, uh… remember. You ain’t heard it from me. Can’t have word get out that ol’ Dalt’s a tratschtant, ya know?”

“We get it. If word gets out that you’re a snitch, you’ll be mistrusted… or worse. Some days, Dolly, I think that might be worth losing the family’s support.”

“Whatever, Nonner. I know your weak spot. You wouldn’t rat me out any sooner than you’d turn on Uncle Nox.”

Jak suddenly got very silent. Clearly, Dalton had struck a nerve, though exactly what it was, was hard to tell. She looked over a few of the items strewn about the room, knocking something familiar onto the floor. It was a small, solid glass statue of a magpie, dyed the same color as Dalton’s magic. When it hit the floor, the head snapped off, rolling under the desk it was seated on. Dalton looked horrified, while Jak looked as satisfied as she could possibly be, in any time she was forced to deal with her shittiest relative.

“Oops.” Jak mocked, “As a ‘nonner’ I wouldn’t know… was that special to you?”

“YOU LITTLE FUCKIN’-! I’LL ‘AVE YER HEAD FER THA-”

“How bout ya take it up wif Nox, eh, Dalt!?" Jak snapped, then taking a moment to compose herself, “... Now give us the address, so we can leave this shithole.”

Dalton growled, saying something under his breath before pulling out a notebook from one of the shelves behind him. After going through a few pages, he tore one out of the book, crumpling it up and throwing it on the floor at Jak’s feet.

“You got what ya want.” he snarled, “... Now get tha fuck out. You ain't been welcome 'ere a long time."