( open. )

[epiprocta]

WHO: Gen & OTA TO KENOMA.
WHAT: A Very Special Episode about how good and fun it is to stop smoking.
WHERE: Around the Citadel, Achamoth.
WHEN: Early-to-mid Visoseri, starting early during the Rise to the Challenge event.
WARNINGS: None at the moment!

i. training fields ( closed to LIEM )

[ It's not like he actually enjoys physical activity in any capacity, whether it be fighting or training or labor. The construction work he'd done back home and the training he does here are mostly the same to him -- just a job, a means to an end, and something "productive" he can do to vent his energy and keep himself occupied. Gen can't really imagine what kind of muscleheaded jock actually finds this shit fun or rewarding in its own right.

That said, the taste of a smoke right after a period of strenuous work almost makes it worth it.

Late in the afternoon, after one of the semi-regular group training sessions has wrapped up and the equipment's been mostly put away, with just a few stragglers still hanging behind to chit-chat and do final cool-downs. From where he's walking by, Liem might hear the sound of a soft click, a pause, then a deep sigh of contentment. Sensitive as he is to smells, it won't take him much effort to pinpoint the bitter tang of cigarette smoke; a plume of gray directs the eye to where Gen's leaning against one of the fences surrounding the training field, looking perfectly at home as he takes another deep drag.

And, feeling that glance directed his way, he looks over. Lucky for Liem, he's caught Gen before he could pocket his cigarettes once more, and since he's in a good mood he gives a cant of the head before holding out the pack in his direction. His words come slightly muffled around the cigarette in his mouth: ]

What, you want one?

ii. citadel grounds ( the sickly option )

[ It's a nice sunny afternoon, warm but not too warm, clear skies, etc. And anyone walking through the citadel grounds, might hear the sound of a low groan and a hoarse voice calling to them: ]

-- hey. [ It only takes a glance over to spot where Gen is slumped on a bench under the dappled shade of a tree, looking thoroughly pale and miserable and unwell. But more importantly, he gives a few shallow coughs before mumbling: ] Get this thing off me.

[ 'This thing' being a stray cat that's draped itself over his throat and chest, apparently having the best nap of its life, using him as a bed while it soaks up the sun. In typical cat fashion, of course it's made itself right at home on the place where it's least welcome at the moment. And while Gen really does look like he's having a rough time of it, and would appreciate being freed of that weight on his chest without having to unscrunch himself from the inglorious position he's huddled himself into ...

The cat looks really cute. And comfy. It's even purring a little! Maybe it'd be fine to just let it continue napping there. ]

iii. training fields ( the cranky option )

[ There's sounds of a commotion coming from the training field. Some sort of argument, it sounds like? And while the shouting and the snarling dies down by the time any concerned interlopers show up, one might spot the way several guards hurriedly exit the grounds, looking disgruntled and muttering something begrudging amongst themselves. One is nursing a bleeding nose leaving a trail of red spots on the ground.

And left on the otherwise-empty training circle is one (1) horrible teenager scuffing a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly roughed-up and irate. He's sporting a few scratches and a freshly-welling bruise on his cheek himself, but either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. Instead, the moment anyone even peeks into the training field, he's quick to turn on them with snarl. ]

-- the hell're you looking at.

iv. corridors ( the tired option )

[ Some stupid hour of the night finds the corridors of the Citadel largely quiet and empty. Almost peaceful. But well ... here he is, wide awake and dying for a smoke.

Anyone who glances down the corridor towards the balcony at its very end, illuminated by cold moonlight and framed by the swing of the door left open, might spot Gen where he's practically draped over the railing surrounding that little balcony, staring listlessly out at nothing.

This really would be a nice place to smoke and relax. But instead, here he is with his nerves rubbed raw by withdrawal, practically shivering from the way he can't quite calm down. Even the slightest noise coming from the corridor has him jerking around to glance over like a spooked dog ready to attack. Sorry not sorry if you were just trying to get to your room and instead find yourself being stared down by this incredibly tired but frazzled-looking youth. ]

v. wildcard

[ I'm open to just about anything! Please feel free to hit me with whatever, but otherwise I'm around at databomb, inktrashing#5307 on Discord, or right here on the event plotting post if you'd like to plot things first or want me to shotgun some ideas at you to see if anything piques your fancy! ]

Comments

[zauneyete]

[ That last comment drew a laugh out of him. ]

I suppose you could have called him an attack dog.

[ He had, after all, been called the Hound of the Underground, for a long, long time, back when they'd been children. Teenagers who wanted out from the oppressive mines. He drew in the smoke again. He was only telling a part of the story, of course, but what was it Gen had said? The most dangerous faded into the background? Silco couldn't do that, but he certainly wasn't going to give Gen the whole story about his betrayal and drowning -- even if it was on his mind since Venera. ]

But yes, I did. [ A curl of his smile, then. Smug and self-satisfied, with a hint of feral teeth to flash in the night. ]

He went out with... [ A whimper? No. Vander had at least given him the satisfaction of resurfacing for just a moment, being that violent man Silco knew he could be, that could effect change, and be the monster they needed to be. He'd even been desperate enough to reach for the Shimmer, after... ]

Let's just call it a bit of a bang.

[epiprocta]

[ Even if he weren't looking at Silco, he would have been able to hear that smirk. Smug pride practically drips from his words, and accompanied by the gleam of his damaged eye, he really does look like someone ripped him straight out off the screen of some shitty Hollywood action flick.

It really makes him wonder just what kind of place Silco hails from, to look like he does and not be aware of how ridiculous he must seem.

Also makes him wonder how Silco's brand of thinly-veiled treachery compares to his own father's. ... at this point, he almost wonders if they're perhaps on even standing, as opposed to his initial assessment, where he'd just considered the other man a big-talking, sleazy bartender of some sort. ]

Good for you, then.

[ Despite that noncommittal answer, he's still keeping his gaze fixed carefully on Silco. The tone of his voice is a little too deliberately flat for his pretense at carelessness to be convincing. ]

D'you do it with your own hands?

[ It's an important distinction, he thinks. ]

[zauneyete]

[ Ah, and that was more complicated. He'd certainly tried, after all. He'd planned it, down to the very details. He'd jumped him, in the alley, and Benzo -- oh poor, foolish Benzo -- had tried to launch himself at him. Silco had been quick to silence him of course -- or sent his goons to do so.

He had no powers, after all, and was diminutive compared to the two larger men, one could even say Silco had been dwarfed by them, even when they'd all been boys.

But Vander? Oh. ]

I stabbed him. [ He said, simply. In the back, and in the belly, twice, just to drive the point home, and in that last moment, he'd seen that hound resurface again. ] Then I left him to his fate.

[ Or shimmer. He might have taken too much, too angry and hurt, and needing power, and why wouldn't he? They'd all needed it in Zaun, Vander had been no different in the end. Willing to be a monster to get a leg up. ]

After that, someone decided to... set a bomb off in my warehouse. Very final, but not what I'd intended.

[ But it was the nail in the coffin. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Stabbed a guy, left him for dead, where he was blown up afterward. Yeah, that sure sounds like a normal way of getting back at someone who happened to cause you a permanent injury -- personally, he thinks his father's ilk back home would have settled for all the money that could be squeezed out of them, followed by breaking all four limbs and half their ribs. But different strokes for different folks, huh.

Gen is quiet for a moment as he lets Silco's answer hang in the air. Then he speaks abruptly. ]

What are you, really.

[ Is it unwise to probe for answers like this from a man who just confessed to having stabbed a man to death? Probably. But Gen forges on regardless; despite the lazy way he slouches back against the railing, head tipped against his shoulder, his gaze has a surprising amount of focus to it. ]

Not that I really believed your story about just being a bar owner in the first place, but -- listen to yourself. And we're supposed to be 'allies' and all. [ He can't help sounding a little derisive as he says that word. 'Allies.' He trusts most people here about as far as he could throw them. But still. ] You wanna drop that bullshit already and just spill, already? What were you, before you ended up here.

[zauneyete]

[ It's a moment where Silco considers. What does he say? It isn't easy to describe the wealth of roles that someone like Silco held, after all. He paused, before he ashed his cigar over the ledge, and took another long, slow inhale. ]

Mm, I suppose calling myself a bar owner is a bit of a shorthand. I did own one, you know. [ Well, stole it from Vander's still warm corpse, but... ]

I suppose it's difficult, beyond that. We don't have a government, beyond the Chembarons, and really, that's loose, at best. I suppose you could say, if the Chembarons run their little fiefdoms in the city, then they... [ mostly ] answer to me, and I to them.

I wouldn't say I run the place I'm from — Zaun is far too uncontrollable to be controlled — but I am the closest we have to it.

[ Oh, and also he developed and sold a lot of drugs. ]

[epiprocta]

[ ... so he's a kingpin, basically. Some sort of drug kingpin who basically runs whatever crime-riddled city it is he's from, if not by law, then by force. -- almost certainly by force.

Gen's quiet for a moment as he mulls that over before abruptly giving a low exhale, not quite an incredulous laugh. ]

So you are just a movie villain. [ Great. Whenver he thinks he's gotten used to all the bullshit this place throws at him, there's always just one more thing to catch him off-guard. ] Guess I shouldn't be giving you shit for how you look, then. If it's appropriate for the part.

[ He can't quite suppress a weary groan as he slowly hauls himself onto his feet; the compounding exhaustion of multiple nights of poor sleep are really getting to him. ]

Dunno what you got out of just putting on that act of just being a 'bar owner.' Not like I really bought it in the first place. But s'good to clear things up for myself, I guess.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco is a man of habits, and routines. Even now, he's smoking a last cigar, after being awash in the drug-filled haze that was Achamoth's Entertainment District. Silco didn't indulge, but he didn't have to. All he had to do was simply...be there, and it was just a little bit like being in Zaun, albeit one he didn't run. ]

I'm not a villain, boy. [ He said, his tone a touch derisive. ] There's no such things as "Heroes" or "Villains", when one only has to look up, and see the boot of an Enforcer stepping down on my city, when we so much as ask for a pittance.

[ They only asked for a penny, as the song went. ]

However, if you must know... I am a bar owner. It was successful, too. How else do you think I could afford so many cigars? I didn't exactly have the means when I was young.

[ Silco had no trouble weaponizing his childhood poverty for points. ]

[epiprocta]

[ He'd just been stretching out his back and hearing his spine pop, but Gen looks over with an eyebrow raised. ]

... not like I meant anything bad by that. Saying you're a villain.

[ Gen's actually being honest -- in this context, calling Silco a villain really had been more of a neutral (if sardonic) observation from him, rather than a condemnation. But all the same, he can't quite keep the trace of dry amusement out of his tone of voice. Somehow, he hadn't expected a man who looks like Silco to make any protests of being sympathetic.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Gen looks Silco over like a curious puzzle for a moment before speaking again. ]

Relax. My old man back home was in the same line of work as you, it sounds like. [ His withdrawal symptoms have definitely loosened his tongue; it isn't in his nature to speak so much about these things. But what does it matter, really? Not like his father or his hometown exist any more. Gen huffs softly before continuing. ] Nowhere near the same scale, but -- same vibe. He was a scumbag, and he knew it, and I got where he was coming from. I figured you'd be the same.

[zauneyete]

Hm. [ He grunted. Gen might not think of Silco as being the type to be sympathetic, but what was the man, without his justifications for all the things he'd done? Zaun, and by extension Jinx, were the only things he had, beyond spite. ]

When one comes from the Sump, we have little ability to be more than a scumbag. [ He said, finally, with a sardonic twist, and yes, he did mean from that kind of sump level. ]

Don't worry, I'm not... hiding anything. From you, or the rest of our companions. However, unlike some others... I don't choose to wield my former station as a cudgel to demand respect, that's all. It's irrelevant to what we're doing here. Just like your father, or my Zaun is irrelevant, given that they are gone.

[ He says it, but Zaun was too important to Silco to entirely give up, even if the Entertainment District is close. He also, predictably, does not mention Jinx. Still close-lipped about that. ]

[epiprocta]

[ 'Companions.' Somehow, he hadn't expected a man who looks like Silco, who seems like he'd casually consider any of his other fellow Aions as a mere pawn to be used, to bother using a word like that at all. And while Gen's hardly about to amend his (perhaps slightly hasty) assessment of Silco as a 'villain' ... maybe he's at least a 'villain' with some nuance. ]

I never said I think you're hiding anything.

[ He says that a touch slyly after a moment, as if to say, 'So are you hiding something, to bring the subject up?' But they both know Gen's treating Silco with a cautious touch. It's really more of a barb he's throwing out just to be his usual petulant self, rather than a point with any real bite. Case in point, his wording remains as needling as ever when he goes on, even if his tone of voice is casual, almost friendly by the standards of shitty back-alley talk. ]

It's cool if you're fine with lowering yourself to the level of us non-mob-bosses, though. Real generous of you. [ The corner of his lips quirk in a lazy smirk. ] Looking forward to keep working with you, I guess.

[ And with one last upwards nod to accompany that sardonic comment, Gen turns away to slink off back indoors. Mostly because he's not sure he can tolerate the waft of cigar smoke any longer without losing his temper. Fuck, this really is harder than he'd expected. ]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco may be using words he thinks Gen will like, particularly with "Companions"... But well, he was a liar.

Silco watched him turn to leave, and smiled. ]

Oh yes. Looking forward to working with you. Don't... hesitate, if you need something.

[ It's with a touch of sarcasm, but he doesn't move. He has no need to rush, so he doesn't. Not at this moment, and not with the last of his cigar wafting the cloying, thick smoke into the air. He pulled out his flask, once Gen turned his back, and turned to look over the city, and imbibe further. ]