ph_logs | Suppression Request: Bad Habits

Suppression Request: Bad Habits

Who: Agent Jean & CR/YOU
What: Jean has returned from a trip
When: Starts March 17th
Where: Places
Warnings: Discussion of violence, mind alteration, and death

Work Order: Attachment | Closed to Zelda and/or Pomni

Jean left their sending stone behind with they left on their mission with Jon, out of concern that communications might be intercepted. When they get back with Jon, stepping off of a golden skiff, the first thing they ask is to borrow one from a dockworker to contact their partners. Their voice over it is...

Good. Better than they've sounded in awhile. The first solid few minutes of their message is an excited tour through variations on "I love you," "I'm back," "I'm safe," "I love you," and "I'm sorry," frequently lapsing into Korean. Once they manage to calm down something more coherent comes out:

"Going home to pick up my sending stone and rack Twilight. Don't touch Twilight, it's angry. I've got to take a piece of Intel to Neil straight away, it can't wait, I'm sorry. Please contact me as soon as you can, I'll have my stone in less than an hour. So glad to be back. Love you again."

Work Order: Insight | Closed to Neil and Elias

By sending stone, shortly after dropping off the sword, to Neil West:

"Doctor, I've got urgent intelligence. Please bring Comrade Coldwood, I'm on my way to your clinic immediately. Reasonable containment measures for a Page may need preparation."

Work Order: Instinct

Our little chicken nugget has some advice to heed. Friends with them? Even a little? They're being surprisingly socially active. They'd like you over for dinner, or they can come by to help out. They're looking for lessons in your crafts and passions ("I'm trying out new things, comrade!"), hell, they'll even go on walks through the woods.

Of potential note is a sharp increase in their interest in rum, here to include books on the subject, evening drinks trying it out at Oak & Iron, and staring in vague incomprehension at the selection of it at various shops.

Come get your chicken.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jean nods and paces to the bank of the river, giving Tayrey plenty of range. They crack their neck and settle into a fighting stance.

"Stop me from touching you," they call out. "And fire at will, comrade!"

She's had some practice with the revolver, so while she's not quite as swift or as accurate with it as she would be with her regular energy pistol, she's confident enough. She can hit a stationary target! Although she hopes it won't end in disaster, that thought won't stop her from doing her best.

Smooth and steady, she takes aim, cocks the hammer, and fires at Jean's chest.

For the briefest of moments, something cobalt and red seems to overlay Jean, and then they're moving, their lunge starting as the hammer is drawn back. They do not zig-zag or make an effort to dodge, but their hands whirl in a blur; the meaty impact of bullet on flesh is heard, yes, but no blood...

They're moving so fast, eating up the space between them with unholy alacrity. Each shot makes them slow down for split-up seconds to meet it with hands or feet. Humans shouldn't be able to react this quickly; they definitely shouldn't be giving off these many audio cues that they've been shot without bleeding or slowing down. As Ari makes the smart play, retreating and fanning the hammer, Jean leaps, and twists -

- third shot. Something connects with their furry boot and goes high into the air -

- and they twist, catching the fourth shot with a motion of their palm that disagrees with physics and wins -

- and puts them in a position to continue the motion, backhanding the fifth shot -

They land in arm's reach and take the sixth full in the chest without flinching. Now there is blood, a misting puff of it mixed with furs from their suit, and yet the smiling corporate soldier simply reaches out and taps Ari on the back of the hand while holding their other palm-up. Three bullets, crumpled from impact, are held in it already; the remaining two not in Jean's body fall into the pile with soft clinks, still smoking from the heat.

The sixth drops out from the inside of their suit as if pushed.

"A bear could do something quite similar," Jean says brightly. "As could the star-creatures! You'll need heavier firepower...but something that can transfer more force, like the halberds the levy uses, is simply indispensable for larger hostiles."

Tayrey holds her nerve. This was by no means guaranteed. The last time she had found herself shooting at something that would not stop, would not die, it had resulted in unimaginable terror and pain for her. No escape.

Here, she stands her ground. She doesn't panic, tries to make each shot count. None of them do. When Jean taps her hand she practically leaps backward, and has to tell herself, over and over, that there is no danger. That it wasn't a trap, that Jean isn't going to hurt her. Her conscious mind fighting desperately for control over her instincts, over the fear still rising in her body. This is a person to avoid, all those instincts scream. This is a person who could kill you with minimal effort and there's nothing you can do.

She keeps her control, but for a long moment after Jean speaks there's nothing but a glassy stare on Tayrey's face.

'Congratulations,' she says at last. 'That was impressive.' That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Someone bests you in training, your simulation screen flashes up red or their target looks neater than yours, the worst thing you can do is act aggrieved about it. If Tayrey's awkward right now, if the words sound hollow, it's not dented spacer pride that lies behind it.

She tucks the revolver back through the belt loop where she keeps it, and straightens up again. 'I take your point,' she says. 'I won't sign up for shifts. You really should make your advertising clearer, set out your requirements, and then demonstrations won't be necessary.' Unless Jean enjoys that sort of thing, but she's not inclined to unpick that right now. She's back to being the girl in a new apprentice's uniform with her Cardalek braids still hanging down her back. What should you do if we're boarded? Hide in the chart room. At least then she'd been surrounded by people she could trust.

This island isn't a safe place. It isn't a place for Tayrey to relax. This is something else to endure and to survive until she can get home.

"Comrade..." Concern, genuine and innocent, almost childlike in how unpracticed they are in displaying it, crosses Jean's face. The expression hides most of those odd teeth. "My apologies, my intention wasn't to discourage. Most recorded hostiles haven't been able to match me for speed; mostly my concern is this."

They tap the bullet hole in their suit, which is already sealing over with new cloth and fur. There is no sign of blood.

"My offer to teach is in earnest, and if firearms are your preference a primary armament like a rifle may do you a lot of good! The point I was trying to make is not that you shouldn't fight, but that your personal safety is not served by specialization. My own training was..."

"...Unkind. I don't wish it on others."

Again she pauses, mental gears whirring. Tayrey knows that Jean's concern is real, and it's touching. It might be the one reason she doesn't make an excuse and bolt.

'I'm sorry for it,' she says. 'Training should be demanding, without unkindness. Mine was... supportive. And tailored to the needs of a trainee officer aboard a starship. To my particular strengths and skills.'

There's a little worried crease in her brow as she decides that honesty is called for. 'Then I was separated from all my comrades. I know we all died to get here, so it's nothing special, but mine? Came after I was firing an energy pistol on an intensity setting that would turn a regular human into red mist at this... monster. That hardly even slowed down. And I've got first-class Cardalek genetics, accelerated healing - not like yours. Milder. The sort that meant I took ten days to die. Of injuries I won't describe. My body fought against it, and lost again. So what you've proven to me is that if I care about my personal safety at all I need to stand well clear of unknown beings in this place, because my risk tolerance for being put in a situation like that ever again? It's approaching zero.'

She sighs. 'That's not a complaint against you. There are far worse ways I could have discovered it.'

"Oh, no, the healing isn't me!" Jean tugs at their lapels, careful not to drop the bullets. "That's Vah Midna here, protects well against damage solely to the body. The speed is me! Me and combat implants." Their voice lowers in vague embarrassment: "The laughing is um. Haha, it's a bit of a side effect."

Deep breath.

"My concern is that you may not be able to select your participation in such situations, but! Hahaha, ha...harsh as my teachings were, they have prepared me to help! I can offer more personal lessons, it might be of use! One fights differently with a team than alone, and if you prefer not to fight with the levy..."

An olive branch. A chance to negotiate.

'If I have no way to select not to participate in a fight that I haven't a flame's chance in vacuum of winning,' says Tayrey, in the same flat tone she'd used to describe her death, 'then this is another long nightmare and I'm calling breach of contract on Citizen Mortanne.'

That's the simple truth of it.

More animation returns to her voice as she adds: 'At least now I know you're not laughing at me. If I had a trial personal lesson, I'd have three conditions.' She ticks them off on her fingers, for precision. 'One, I pay for it. Two, it stays between us, no gossip. Three, if I call for a stop at any point, we stop. None of those lines about how the enemy won't. I've got to be able to trust you.'

"There are actionable objectives beyond victory," Jean says softly. "You'll never hear me complaining that someone lived to fight another day."

The conditions are listened to with great seriousness. They nod once at the end, and speak up: "We'll need to try a variety of weapons, but I was quite serious about heavier firepower. Luckily I know who can point the way! Comrade Leeds maintains an extensive collection of functional firearms and may even be able to assist in measurements for a proper rifle. I don't know if her collection is for sale, but surely her advice must be?"

Tayrey points a finger at Jean. 'That'd be an immediate breach of condition two,' she says, but it's more of a faintly amused remark than an accusation. 'I'll talk to my contacts at Lockwood Security if I need to source more weaponry. Say it's for work purposes, which is mostly true and doesn't invite questions I don't want.'

Then she tilts her head, looking Jean over again. 'Your clothing - you call it vah midna? What's it made of? I'd been looking at the possibility of layered silk for body armor, since I doubt I'll get the composite polymers we had back home.'

"My apologies, comrade, I'd envisioned that you would approach her yourself." Jean looks genuinely contrite there; perhaps they're sensitive to social faux pas.

Luckily there's another topic!

"Vah Midna, yes, that's his name." Jean tugs the lapels proudly. "This suit is the product of Cognito technology, and both is and isn't a part of my friend Vah Midna, whom I've worked with in the past! The specifics are a little beyond me but it affords some protection to my body and mind, though mostly the body. Other such equipment has different protection but a similar function..."

A look flickers across their face. "If you find clothing that puts you in contact with another entity, please inform me. It can be dangerous to the user without proper...resonance. Conflict with the entity can be mutagenic."

Jean isn't to know that Tayrey is intensely private about her weaknesses, and that involving a total stranger, much less one with the social standing of the Leeds family, isn't something she'd be willing to do. Not wanting to debate that, she just gives Jean a reassuring look, a quick nod, acceptance of that apology.

She clearly struggles with the notion that a suit can be part of a person, but Tayrey has lived through so much peculiarity that she doesn't interrupt, just accepts that in Jean's home universe this is a thing that can happen.

Her response is a considered one. 'If it can happen simply by touching the clothing, I'll break contact at once and find a safe way to transport it to you. But it's unlikely.' She indicates her own blue and silver outfit. 'I'm representing the Tradelines, and looking the part matters to me, even if there's nobody else to care about it. It's a symbol of not losing sight of who I am, yes?'

An eager nod; when Jean's genuinely smiling, they show a lot less of those pointed teeth. "I understand, comrade. Luckily, mere contact is insufficient. Most such clothing manifests in a form like this one - a layer of business formal," here they touch the tie on the inside of Cobalt Scar, the suit vest under the furred jacket, "that has been altered with some outwardly fantastical element. Touching, transporting, even laundering the clothing is perfectly safe, but depending on the strength of the entity or the presence or absence of conflict, side effects can become permanent on a scale from weeks to hours. Mister Calloway and I have an understanding that these E.G.O. armors and weapons will be kept aside for me, for the general safety of the public. Even if they don't see use...I shudder to think of what might happen in improper hands."

They frown in thought. "...Though a few that may be useful to you present themselves to me, if they appear. I'd, hahaha, HAHAHAH, ha...need to know you a bit better before jumping to conclusions, but...hrm...well, cross that bridge when we come to it!"

'I understand,' says Tayrey quietly. She's still taking it all in. The critical information about the danger the suits present, yes, but also smaller scraps. That's what passes for business formal on Jean's homeworld, for instance. Not the buttoned shirts and long robes favored by Cardalek's Directors.

'I intend to keep a safe distance from any entity I can't either do fair and reasonable business with, or fight,' she adds, that firm and definite tone creeping back into her voice. 'But there's no sense in fretting over distant probabilities. What I will tell you-' she leans forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. 'Be careful with that Citizen Calloway. He overcharges to the point of absurdity. He has my papers in there for sale - on plastic, all written in Sector Standard, and he's trying to charge nearly a month's wages for them, as some sort of mystery artifact.' He wouldn't be negotiated down, which had irritated Tayrey even more.

"...Yes, he does that," Jean says with a sigh. "But I am unwilling to escalate my access to this technology to the point of violence, so I'm afraid business must be done. We'll meet again to discuss the details of your training?"

'Very sensible,' Tayrey agrees. 'Yes, we'll meet again to negotiate contract properly.' Once they've both had time to think it over. 'I hope we'll work well together.'

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Suppression Request: Bad Habits

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Description done with plotting via Discord

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Wrap so we can focus on the other one?

sure! wrap <3