tushanshu | Entries tagged with † chase young

[with all the fighting, the chaos, and the numerous opportunities therein, chase has been busy - and thus hasn't had the opportunity to make his opinions on the whole affair known. because, clearly, they are the best opinions, and everyone needs to know them.

he's in his suite, looking no worse for wear despite his involvement in fighting off the gangs in the metal sector those days ago. his attention is half on the video and half on the slim journal he's writing in.

he starts with his eyes on the journal after making sure the feed is on.]

It has been an exciting few weeks, hasn't it. My commendations to the local militia and to the temporarily-deputized - the former for their stellar work keeping the peace, the latter for somehow managing to decimate a more numerous foe while simultaneously keeping us all from drowning.

[or so he assumes would have been the case if the turtle lost a flipper. there's a brief, unpleasant smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth.]

And now that we've all had the chance to be suitably heroic ... what happens next? We've already been stripped of any rank and paid to someone else's standard. I can only wonder if they think we can be called up at will to defend a land that's decidedly against us.

[he flips his brush around and taps the end of it against the page, like he's thinking, before glancing up at the screen with a condescending raise of an eyebrow.]

Then again, I'm sure plenty of you find it all suitably rewarding already. In a ... moral way.

[spoken like morality is some sort of disease. his disdain is evident as he reaches to cut the feed - but he stops, suddenly, remembering something. and because what is technology, he doesn't ~~know how to~~ bother to filter the rest.]

Ah, yes ... old monk. [by which he means shifu, since he never got the name.] Now that the fun's over, I suggest we actually see which one of us is the better combatant. Fighting side-by-side is only much to go by.

[and then it's off.]

flawedgoods

[Favrielle, wearing a blue linen dress of her own design that's paired with a complementary Keeliai scarf draped over her arms, is sitting at the console in her suite. Behind her, the decor of the room clearly indicate that she's in the Water sector. At "home" it's clear she's at ease, and with it more confidence in the way she holds herself. She feels more herself now than she has since being displaced from Terre d'Ange, though perhaps that has more to do with the subject she plans to address.

She manages a bare, more professional smile which pulls the scar at her lip slightly.]

Good afternoon, everyone, my name is Favrielle nó Eglantine. I've been working in clothing district of the Earth sector for some weeks now, and have noticed that while of course their clothing appears to differ a great deal from what many of us came with, few of us appear to share a single style of dress amongst ourselves.

Being considerably skilled with more complicated design and construction, it would be simple enough for me to recreate garments in styles shown, sketched, or even described to me. This includes but is not limited to everyday clothing, undergarments, accessories, outerwear, formal wear, as well as costumes from the simplest design to the most complex and elaborate. So, as of this moment you may consider my services available to anyone who wishes to contract me.

[Cost of course will adjust depending on the complexity of the garment, cost of materials, as well as the labor involved.]

Those who wish to dress in the D'Angeline style, found in my world, may do so at a discounted cost. Also, any who wish to keep their current clothes in good repair may bring them to me for mending for a minimal fee.

Finally, I am willing to take on assistants if anyone would care to further line their purse. Those capable of tracing and cutting patterns or stitching in a straight line, or in possession of more advanced skills may contact me about a position at any time.

[Favrielle doesn't mention pricing, though it will be fair for what she's offering, nor does she note that she isn't always an easy person to work for. No point in scaring anyone off.]

My thanks for your time.

notpredictable

GREETINGS CITIZENS OF -- [Pause, squint - what was it again? Ah -- yes.] Keeliai! [YES THAT'S RIGHT. Looking triumphant in his little metal palace, he straightens, looking gleeful.]

It is I - MEGAMIND, and -- well.

[Looking terribly smug, he brushes an imaginary speck from his suit.]

I am the current and still very active villain of Metrocity though it appears I am taking a brief hiatus - much to my chargrin, Trust me I had no damned intentions of it BUT - gracing you lot with my magnificent and glorious presence. [Hands up.]

I know, I know. Shock and awe, amiright? [Chuckle. Oh God he's so hilaaaarious isn't he?]

NOW – let’s get down to business, shall we? All of us have been…displaced, as it were, and if I am correct – and I generally am - we all have needs and wants and desires from back home. [Regardless of if they’re dead or not, people still want their THINGS.] As…such…

I am willing to attempt to recreate some of these small luxuries from home depending on what it might be, and if parts and such are available. Considering this place is sorely lacking in up to date and up to par technology, not all things are going to be possible despite my massive and prodigious intellect, I cannot, unfortunately, make mountains of molehills.

Unless I’m home, and I have the Earth Shaker 3000. Then I probably could.

BUT I DIGRESS. Yes, good and services, yadda yadda… [Flipping through a clipboard.] Right. Done for a fee. Nothing is free, my soft headed lemmings! Remember that. There’s always a price.

Miss Lane, do be a dear and send me your precise coordinates and communications device frequencies. It was a bit beastly locating you last time.

[Stalk stalk stalk.]

Ciao ciao, all~!

[Feed cut.]

((ooc: also feel free to note that these flyers are currently being posted all over each sector :3))

alderwood

[The video comes up on a sparse office with three sheets of paper on the desk and, standing behind it, the Alderwood Commander in uniform. The wear-and-tear of the past month show minimally, but those that saw him at the festival may note slight shadows under the eyes from pulling overtime the likes of which you wouldn't believe. He rests his hands on the desk and addresses all console users with clipped words and a clear tone.]

Those of you that haven't stuck your heads out the door in a month might be surprised to hear we've got trouble on the rise. My officers are tasked to the breaking point handling it and there's intel to say more breach attempts are incoming.

Since they're using you Foreigners to take exception, it's about time you got the chance to do something about it. [A terse grin.] Effective immediately, I am authorising all Foreigners to act as enforcers to uphold the laws of Keeliai.

But don't go sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. Each precinct's got a stack of cases that need follow-up, most of them arrests. Those of you community-minded enough to help can head to the nearest precinct and get your orders. Report back when you're done and a note will be made. Lieuen's agreed to pay five juulan per successful job once the troublemakers are all rounded up, so trust that it'll be worth your time.

[He stops and refers to a sheet at his left, scanning the data on it.]

I also need crisis response teams, three of them. You'll be on standby to move out at my order in the event of a breach. Teams will be briefed as activated. It's not a voluntary deal either. I know what you can do and if you're needed, you'll be there. You lucky souls-turned-soldiers are ID'd at the end of this message.

And you mercenary types are wise not to tune this out. Lieuen's chipped in danger pay for each deployment of the CRTs, fifteen juulan per head. That sweeten the deal enough?

[A pause for the information to sink in.]

This isn't about pride or falls, people. It's about whatever you need it to be, as long as that need gets you moving when you're needed. Good kedan are dying out there and there's no way to remedy your situation as long as all hell's broken loose. The sooner this is sorted, the better.

Any questions? Ask them now.

[The video ends for those not assigned to a crisis response team; to each of these, an encrypted segment is included.]

( messages: teams 01-03 )

oneandonly

[Jill sits at her console for a few moments before turning it on. After a couple weeks here on the turtle, she's gotten some much needed rest, but not really paid as much attention to the network as she should have. The wounds on her chest are bandaged and the battlesuit off and hidden away where she doesn't have to sees it. So, instead she'd dressed in a dark blue Tangzhuang, the lightly colored collar visible near the bottom of the frame. She's still looking a little on the pale side as she speaks,]

My name is Jill Valentine, I'm with the BSAA--- I'm looking for my partner, Chris Redfield. Or Josh Stone, also BSAA. I... maybe they came with me. [She pauses, considering that that would mean that they too were between life and death. No. That would be worse. Taking another moment, Jill breathes, composes herself and offers,]

I guess I didn't think the afterlife would be so bright and cheerful. Sure is a good way to throw off the bad vibes.

repelled

[the video comes on in his own suite, very evidently in the fire sector by the blue glows flickering in through the open windows. dressed in simple and casual - if nice - city clothing, chase is watching the video feed with a bored expression, one gloved hand supporting his chin, the other wrapped idly around a cup of tea on the desk.]

Aren't there just so many ... interesting people here, now. [the significant pause indicating that 'interesting' was a few dictionaries away from the word he probably intended to use.] And so many so young, too.

[there's a flicker of a sneer there.]

I'm sure everyone's had their fair share of time trying to figure out precisely what this place is and how you got here, but undoubtedly we've all heard the suggestion that this is, in one way or another, the afterlife. Not an idea I'm entirely fond of, but without any evidence otherwise, I'm forced to consider it a possibility. [very grudgingly, if his tone is anything to go by.]

So - a question. How many of you actually remember dying before your arrival here? A simple yes or no is enough, unless you had a particularly interesting death, in which case feel free to elaborate.

cowled

[Enter 'Professor Craig'. He's a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed goatee, glasses, salt-and-pepper black hair and the accent of a British foreign national that's spent several decades in America. Of Bruce Wayne, there is absolutely nothing, not the voice or the poise or the bearing. Even his eyes are another colour, and the structure of his face is altogether different.

This post goes up several hours past the executions, and Bruce is basically waiting on the results of his blood samples and fabric analyses from the three dead kedan. So, the Network gets his attention for now, and his primary cover persona on Keeliai gets some exercise.]

Is everyone all right? God, I can't even imagine-- if anyone needs anything, please ask. We're all in this together.

redjay

[He won't even bother wasting his time showing his face or voice. Text is a lot faster, gets the message through without revealing himself.]

I hope you're all enjoying your stay on Fantasy Island as much as I am. I still haven't gotten my wish for the largest whirlpool bathtub and all the chili dogs I can eat. I'm hanging in there but I'm starting to lose my patience.

Got some questions and having them answered would really boost my mood.
How high does the tech run here?
Who else is kind of freaked out by the locals?

ironwood

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shifu_sifu

[The backdrop? One of the console cafés private rooms, with the door open to show a hall crowded with locals, but this particular room seems empty save a pair of large, rounded ears that are twitching minutely to catch the many sounds going around him. Seconds later, half a head peers into the video and a furry brow furrows.]

This is not anything like what I expected once my time came. There is much and everything is complex and-- No one can see me, can they. [A mutter as one elderly red panda holds onto the edge of the console and tries to look at the camera.

This? Is not working. He abandons that technique and kicks back the chair, performing a perfect flip to land balanced on the crux of his staff, the base of which is resting on the floor. Now centered in the video, he smoothes out his robes and clears his throat.]

I understand this is a realm for those who have completed their journeys. [A pause, a steady breath, and a nod.] I am at peace with this.

[The murmur of crowd in the background surges briefly and an ear flicks in irritation. Shifu decides it is better to finish his message before more people arrive.]

If you can just direct me to Master Oogway, I... [A pause as he glances around, borderline frazzled by all the people here.] -ah, I will confer with him and resume my meditations.

[A marginally graceful nod to the camera, then he descends the staff onto the console, searching for the command to kill the feed.]

There are many, many more people than I expected to have achieved the inner peace necessary to attain this state.

[It's one more perplexed mutter before he finds the command and ends it.]

Tu Shanshu

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