This Wasn't What I Wanted!

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by EquinoxSol, Nov 23, 2013.

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  1. Prologue
    (Vaguely based off of the intro to 'Fisheye Placebo')

    They had gathered there in the square, donned in their Guy Fawkes masks and bandanas wrapped around their faces. They stood at the military blockade, amongst friends and enemies both, their hearts beating against the insides of their chests as sweat slid down in drops down the sides of their faces.

    It was when the first shot rang out...

    ...that chaos erupted...

    ...and we realized...

    ...nothing would be the same again.


    Rory hadn't actually seen who shot the gun, whether or not is was one of them or not. He had heard it, but he'd really seen the aftermath. The throng of hackers, activists, and protesters that had come seethed, pushing forwards closer to the police with their riot shields, blood on the lips of those present.

    The voice of God boomed above their heads while a helicopter shone spotlights on them. "CEASE AND DESIST! DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY!"

    The girl next to Rory, who couldn't have been more than seven or eight, shouted back, "Never!" and raised her fist in defiance.

    Rory was pushed forwards by the group, closer and closer to the line of riot shields. Somewhere behind him, someone threw a Molotov over his head and those of the police, landing amidst a group of them. Shouts of anger and screams of pain were heard above the rage-filled yells of the protesters.

    Locking eyes with one of his own, Rory brought up his arm, yelling into the microphone hidden inside the sleeve of his jacket. "Everyone, get back to base, now! Be back by 0600 in the morning or I'll assume they've caught you!" Turning off the mic and his earpiece, he tried to push his way through the crowd, knowing that if they stayed any longer, they would probably start dropping tear gas or worse.

    More screams of agony were heard as the police directly in front of him began shooting blindly into the crowd. Those screams were backed by a bass line of fury, and the crowd surged forwards again. Rory brought up his arms, as if that would protect him if a bullet came his way, letting out a panicked shout.

    The girl next to him let out a shrill scream; she had been hit by one of the bullets, in her lower stomach, and fell down, but Rory was unable to help her up without tripping himself. In the end, he had to leave her, pushing a man with a bandana wrapped around his face that said, "99%" on it, his breath coming in ragged and heavy. As a police cruiser's gas tank exploded, sending up smoke and flames, the crowd seemed to back up a bit, giving Rory just the space he needed to get through them and into an alleyway.

    Beginning to make for his homebase, which also served as a home for him and his hacker crew, Rory quickly pulled his jacket and bandana off, hoping he could pass for a normal citizen.

    "Gotta get home," he muttered to himself, letting that be his mantra until he could no longer hear the screams of the injured and the shouts of the angry.

  2. It was just a whim of sating her curiosity that made Dizzy follow this angry mob of people out in such an open area and up against the police forces that had formed a blockade before them. She had thought that it would be an interesting experience to witness a revolt as it unfolds before her very eyes, and that definition did indeed become true…

    Until the authorities from high above started showering a hail of bullets towards them and screams started to fill the air. After that, all hell had broken loose and Dizzy had to duck and dive into the nearest alleyway that she could find in order to get out of the way of number of things; the raining bullets and the stampeding crowd being the first things to come into mind.

    She was only passing by this part of town around this time because of a prior appointment that she had made with an acquaintance, but now that things had to go and escalate to such level of conflict, she wouldn’t be surprised if her meeting would be postponed indefinitely.

    “Damn it, just my luck…” She groaned as she watched every person around her push each other around in their desire to flee to safety. It was quite an important meeting too and she’d hate to just give up on it, but the police would definitely assume that she’s part of their coup if she sticks around any longer. Since she does not intend to get locked up for no reason, she deemed that it would be best for her to start her escape as well.
  3. Rory ran down the alleyways, ignoring the homeless people who called out to him, bent on getting to safety. He only slowed when he reached the subway terminal. Normally, Rory wouldn't dare use the subway. They were filled with cameras and undercover cops alike, and the instant you swiped your card the government would know which subway you took, from what station, at what time, and where you got off at.

    Riding the subway was a huge risk, especially for someone as wanted as Rory. Of course, officials didn't know who the 'mastermind' behind some of the world's biggest hacks was. They just knew his handle: Emina. Everyone he interacted with, whether on or offline, knew him as Emina. It was how he stayed safe. And every time Emina did something on a public forum, the world freaked out, wanting to figure out who Emina was. It was fun, being known worldwide, but Rory hated that everyone he knew could never know him as Rory Oscar Richardson, his birth name.

    Swiping a fake ID, Rory got into the subway, keeping his head down so the cameras couldn't get a good shot at his face. Hopping onto a subway, he tried not to look in the eyes.of anyone else. A lot of people were from the protest. Some were nursing scrapes, others were looking fearful. A couple even had their Guy Fawkes masks on. That was daring. Police were probably going to pick them up as soon as they got off the subway.

    He stuck to the back, heart still beating at a million miles an hour. The protest had begun at one in the afternoon, with only a few people around, but as word spread through the internet, more and more people came. Soon, the protest became a full-flegded riot, and the police had arrived. 'Christ,' Rory thought. 'How many people died tonight?'
  4. It seems that luck has not completely abandoned Dizzy yet as she managed to push past the congested alleyways and out on the open plaza without much trouble. Sure, she did get shoved around for a bit and that some of the spare change she had stuffed in the pockets of her skirt got picked, but it was of little matter to her, since she’d take those two minor inconveniences any day than being thrown in the slammer.

    She can’t relax yet, however, as the sirens of police patrol cars filled the air and everyone in the plaza is running around, some with confused faces as they wondered what was going on while others have a grim, fixated expression on, telling their utmost intent to keep moving as far away from this place as possible.

    But her attention didn’t linger on those people as she saw a few figures shuffling about towards what seems to be a subway terminal.

    Dizzy had to stare at them for a second as she recognized the mask that they are wearing to be similar to those who were a part of the riot earlier. She wondered if following them would be the best decision for her, since their current goal of escaping seems to coincide with hers as well.

    I shouldn’t waste time thinking about stuff like this. It’s only a matter of time until someone stops me while I stand around looking like this.

    Sadly, it was true. Nothing else would probably come into the mind of a law enforcer other than the words ‘suspicious’ upon running into someone donned in a full regalia of black-themed punk fashion clothing. With a dangerous-looking metal arm, no less. She uttered a little curse for her untimely choice of garments today as she hurried to follow the masked group.

    Despite her questionable appearance and her current situation, Dizzy is still, technically, a law-abiding citizen, so she didn’t go to any lengths of trouble getting aboard the train. As soon as she managed to squeeze herself in the subway car beside a tall man wearing one of the rioter’s mask, she let out a huge sigh of relief. Maybe now she can rest easy until she reaches her stop several stations away from this place.

    And then, I can just forget about this whole ordeal ever happened…

    … It was not to be, however, as the wheels of the train underneath suddenly started shrieking and slowing down to a complete stop. The lights inside the cars suddenly went out, making a number of people cry out in a mixture of fear and surprise, wondering what was going to happen now: Dizzy was one of them.

    A few minutes of confused and frantic mutterings went by when suddenly, rays of bright light started flashing from the front and back of the train, followed by a loud voice amplified by a megaphone.


    But he did not need to repeat his words any further, as his initial declaration was already enough to stir a hysteric uproar amongst the passengers, many of whom started to hit the glass doors and windows in a fleeting attempt to break them down while others held on to each other, wailing words that suggests their fearful doom.

    While Dizzy was also realizing that she placed herself in a hard place, she also knew that this is no time to shouting out in fear and resigning herself to fate’s hands. As she had made clear to herself earlier, she had no intention on getting mistakenly caught, and she does not intend to start thinking of it now.

    “Move aside!” She snapped at the tall masked man, who was pounding at the doors in a frenzied manner. When he didn’t comply, possibly because his panicked state of mind couldn’t hear her, she reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled him aside, hitting a number of people behind them in the process.

    Turning a deaf ear to the curses and swearwords that she earned from that, she reached out to the middle part of the closed doors. The metal fingers of her left arm felt through the rubber grooves of the door and soon, she managed to catch a firm grip on the door. With a deep breath, she pursed her lips, placed a foot on the seat next to it and started pulling with all her might.
  5. As the train screeched to a halt, Rory was thrown into the arms of a young man wearing all black and looking like he came from a gang. The man glared at him before growling something about, 'Fucking crackers,' and threw him back, so he was winded by the time he had stood up again.

    He blinked in the dark, trying to see what was happening. Some people were using their phones as flashlights, but most of the people coming from the rally knew that phones could be tracked easier than anything else. People were screaming, some letting out curses. Many were beating against the glass windows and doors.

    That was a bad idea. Of course, if they actually did get out, then the police would just shoot them, pepper spray them, or simply detain them. Besides, they were in a subway tunnel. Even if they got out, and somehow got past the police, then they would be in the tunnels dodging subway trains and electric rails. And when they found a station, there would be police there too. Everyone's best bet was to just stay in the train, wait for the police to come in, and pray that they take only the most suspicious looking.

    Hearing a commotion, he went to the doors, pushing past people as he saw where it was coming from. A girl was making a lot of headway with opening the door. "Shit," he cursed. "Wait!" This time, he shouted, so everyone could hear him and he had their attention.

    Pushing his way between the girl and the door, he threw his arms out, knowing he couldn't look very convincing; a tall, lanky man with black hair to his shoulders, wearing combat boots and skinny jeans. Still, he could bet that this would stop her for a few seconds.

    "Don't," he said, keeping his voice level. "Going out there means you get picked up by the cops. As soon as they can open these doors, they will probably fill this entire place with tear gas or pepper spray. You're Just helping them. Everyone's best bet is to just stay in here and hope they don't take you. Which means don't give them trouble, have your ID out and ready for them, act in a respectful, subdued manner, and hope everything checks out. Alright?" He fixed his hazel eyes on the girl, hoping she would see reason.
  6. Dizzy had already managed to pull the metal doors a couple of inches apart already; a feat that she couldn’t have accomplished if she didn’t have a mechanical limb in tow. And she would’ve made quite a lot more progress on that too, until she heard someone, a man older than her by a few years by the sound of it, shout loudly from somewhere behind her. Everyone else in the car fell silent, save for this man as he made his way beside Dizzy and started to talk her out of what she was doing.

    As he was speaking, though, she started to feel more and more infuriated. Not only because he is taking up her precious time of opening the door nor was it proving to be difficult for her to keep the gap she made open with her grasp, but also because she knew that what the man was saying made sense. Like what he said, Dizzy didn’t really have a sound plan to rely on once she finally makes it outside the car and could probably just be risking her life unnecessarily in the process.

    Admittedly, she got caught up in the moment of trying to escape as well, but that doesn’t mean that she’s going to meekly accept the man’s words, no matter how sensible they are.

    “And then what? We cut off our only opportunity to escape, to move out, just for the chance that they would look over us?” She replied heatedly. “You probably saw how those police were willing enough to open fire to a group of people? What makes you think that they’d be content nabbing a bunch of people and letting everyone else go?”

    The flashes of light outside were getting closer. As much as Dizzy wanted to argue more in defense of her point, she knew she didn’t have the luxury of time to do so. Things can only end one way or the other and she has to make a decision now on what she’s going to do.

    Thud goes the door that she had been so desperately prying open a few seconds ago as she let go of it and it slid shut promptly afterwards. Even though she couldn’t see really him in the dark, she still threw a nasty glare towards the source of the man’s voice beside her.

    “I hope you know what you’re getting us all into, because you’re going to be responsible for all of us as of right now.” Dizzy whispered vehemently before she flipped up the hood of her black vest. She could do without the whole train car staring at her and a small piece of cloth could only do so much as to hide her anxiety.
  7. The moment the police outside had gotten the doors opened, pepper spray bombs were thrown in. Rory was halfway ready for this. He had his hood pulled up, and had tied his bandana around his mouth and nose, wishing he had water to soak it in so less spray could get to him. The moment the pepper spray bombs started spewing their contents to the train, those nearest began choking and coughing, some falling to the ground.

    Trying not to breathe, Rory squinted his eyes, trying to push past people. Seeing cops with gas masks on, guns out, he raised his hands, wincing at how he must look with a bandana on, which had the words, "You are free," written on it in Sharpie.

    Tears were streaming from his eyes, and now he was doubled over, choking and wheezing as he inhaled pepper spray. A cop tore off his bandana, feeling around in his pockets for weapons. Rory had none; he was a pacifist at the best of times.

    When the officer was certain he wasn't going to take out a machine gun from his pockets and get away, he was manhandled out of the train and laid out on the nearest platform to writhe in unimaginable pain. He had been gassed before, after a particularly violent protest where he had nearly been arrested...this was worse. They must have changed their formula, or else Rory was forgetting, but he couldn't even bring up his hands to rub at his eyes. Those they brought out after him were in similar conditions.

    He saw one of the people in Guy Fawkes masks being carried out, but he wasn't moving or anything. A pit formed in Rory's stomach. Everyone always heard of how you could die if you wore the mask when choking from pepper spray. You always couldn't get enough air to your lungs, mixed with the gas, and every protest where the police used spray would have one person dead from those stupid masks.

    Still writhing, Rory tried to find the girl from earlier, but couldn't, his vision too blurred. "Fuck," he got out, as a police began rooting through hihis pockets to find an ID. After checking him with his picture, the cop nodded and tossed him his wallet and ID, calling to the commanding officer, "He checks out. Don't need to take him in. Seems like the kinda guy you can just hand a fifty and tell them to forget about getting gassed."

    That was true; Rory needed all the money he could get for food and clothing. Even then, his jacket was threadbare and would now smell of pepper spray.

    The police continued on. Those that didn't check out he had plastic handcuffs put on their wrists, and were soon loaded into a large police van. All the while, Rory was writhing on the ground, wanting the pain to go away.
  8. As the wizened old men would crack in this certain type of scenarios, there would always be a ‘first time for everything’. For Dizzy, who has never been caught in a miasma of pepper spray before, she could only wish that she didn’t have to experience it.

    A few seconds after the police outside pried the doors open, metal canisters were hurled inside the opening. Most bounced on the surface of the floors and windows while a few, to the dismay of some, squarely hit the cowering passengers. Almost immediately, these containers started to whistle loudly as some sort of gas started escaping from them.

    Even though she was forewarned by the man earlier that this sort of thing would happen, there was nothing that Dizzy could’ve done to prepare herself. Receiving a full blast from gas, her eyes started to water and she started to cough uncontrollably. Her chest started to feel like it was lit on fire and her skin was felt like it’s submerged in bubbling oil. So many painful sensations was running all through her body that she soon collapsed on her knees, her hands cupped over her mouth and her brain feeling like it's about to split in pain along with her lungs.

    Having been effectively subdued by the gas, it was no surprise that Dizzy didn’t even notice the police managing to open the train door next to her. With a pair of strong hands and the fact that she’s in no condition to put up any resistance, she was taken away from the train and was dragged to the nearest platform, where she was thrown to the ground.

    There, in her half-conscious state, she felt someone’s hands running all over her body, as the police frisked her for any armament that she might be carrying. Although it is supposed to be an inspection only, the one handling it sure didn't feel like there was any need to hold back on his examination. If only she could muster any amount of strength, she would’ve given whoever it was on top of her a good slap from her metal hand. But instead, all she could do was lie there, disoriented and writhe in spasms of pain.

    She probably blacked out for a minute or so, because she couldn’t remember what else happened after that. When she came to, she could see the blurred outline of a gas-masked cop standing in front of her fallen form and holding what seems to be her identification cards.

    “Well, what do you know? Despite how she looks, she seems legit.” He remarked in a disturbingly casual manner as he finished inspecting the Dizzy’s ID. She tried to mutter something to express her anger, but all she could come up with was some sort of exhausted groan. Upon hearing her, the cop then flicked the cards in his hand towards her and walked away without so much as a second look.

    “Are you sure we couldn’t take her?” Another one called out from somewhere on her right; she could tell because she felt something hard nudge on her sharply on her ribs, making her cough and wheeze even more convulsively. “I wouldn’t mind giving her a more thorough observation once we reach downtown.”

    “I said leave her. And, for Christ’s sake, you’re still an officer on duty! Act like one!” The other policeman, probably a superior of his, barked sternly to his cohort. Dizzy heard the second cop click his tongue in disappointment before he stalked away from her.

    And then she was left alone. Well, not literally, as she can still hear the groans and gasps of the other passengers all around her. They’re probably all lying on their backs as well, trying to cope with what they had just been put through.

    … I definitely should’ve escaped back there. was the only thought that was running across her mind as she clutched the area of her ribs where the man had kicked her.
    #8 DoS, Nov 27, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 27, 2013
  9. When the intense burning in his eyes lessened to a bearable extent, Rory, eyes still red and teary, sat up. The nearest officer noticed and helped him to his feet, shoving a few twenties into his jacket pocket. He was pointed towards the stairs up and out of the subway, and told to shove off.

    Glancing around, he saw the girl from earlier. Rooting around in his backpack, he walked over to her, taking out a water bottle. Seeing that she was still in extreme pain, he opened the bottle and poured most of the water over her eyes, trying to flush the pepper spray out of her eyes. "Come on..." he said afterwards, trying to get her to her feet. "I'm gonna get you out of here before they decide that you're suspicious after all..."

    Once she was on her feet, he walked her out of the terminal, seeing police cars everywhere. "Where do you live?" he asked as he walked along the sidewalk, keeping an eye out for a taxi. "Look," he continued, scanning the road, "I'm sorry...I just thought they were going to come in and take out anyone whose ID was obviously fake...didn't know they were going to gas us..."

    He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before stopping. He stuck his hand out and said, "I'm Enima. I...only wish we could've met under better circumstances, you know?" He smiled, or at least tried to, though it came out strained. He just wanted to go home and sleep the night away, after getting rid of the clothes he was wearing, which smelled strongly of pepper spray.

    He brushed the black hair out of his eyes, wishing he had a tie so he could keep it out of his eyes. "I, pay for hospital bills if you need to go there... that spray they used was worse than usual."
  10. Dizzy wasn’t exactly having the best of her days, having been gassed, thrown and practically molested by the police before they left her half-conscious on the train platform’s cold floor. It was only when someone poured cold water over her burning eyes, bringing it some much welcomed relief, and help her get back on her feet did she start to feel less grumpy about everything that has happened, despite choking on some of the droplets that she accidentally ingested and on the smell of pepper spray still lingering around them.

    As she was led to what seems to be the outside of the terminal, given the tremendous amount of noise coming from sirens and car horns that entered within her earshot, she recognized the voice speaking alongside her to belong to the same man who had stopped her from breaking out of the train earlier. While she did have half a mind to air out her grievances and blame him for everything, she knew that nothing good will come about in such a childish tantrum. So she just remained silent, half-listening to the man while she rubbed her eyes sore.

    It was only when he said something that somewhat resembled a name did she actually open her eyes again. Although they stung for a bit, she kept blinking them repeatedly until her blurred vision could regain focus.

    The first thing she saw then in front of her was the outstretched hand of a messy-haired man standing in front of her.

    “Emina, huh? What an androgynous name…” She wondered aloud, as hearing that name struck a familiar note in her mind, although she couldn’t exactly point out what it is, thanks to the recent turn of events that she had to go through. She didn’t say it loud anyway, as she was sure that she would remember it sooner or later. Instead, she decided to just return his introduction with her own.

    “You can call me… Dizzy.” She answered, pausing slightly halfway through her sentence as she contemplated whether she would give him her real name or the handle that her friend came up for her. Needless to say, she chose the latter.

    “And no, you don’t have to bother sending me to a hospital. I think I can manage on my own.” She continued, addressing to the last part of Emina’s words. “Although…”

    She would’ve finished speaking by that point, if she didn’t suddenly trip upon an afterthought. Without thinking, she reached out with her metal hand and grabbed the man by his wrist.

    “… This may come out as a selfish request, but could you take me somewhere else? I feel like home’s not going to be the place for me tonight…”
  11. Jumping when he felt cold metal fingers grab his wrist, Rory turned and looked at the girl, the metal sending chills up his arm. As she spoke, he sort of understood. "Alright," he said. "If you want, you can sleep at my place. There's a nice bed you can sleep on...I'll take my couch."

    He changed his directions, taking a left at the corner and heading to his apartment. It wasn't much, but it was big enenough for him. This girl, Dizzy, she would be alright in his bedroom.

    Still, it was weird that she hardly reacted when he introduced himself. To him, such a thing was nearly impossible. Deeming it to have been her playing it cool or just not remembering, he focused on getting home. The apartment building they entered wasn't anything fancy; Rory didn't believe in living outside of what you truly needed to survive. But it was home to him, and he could hook up to the internet easily.

    Walking inside the main lobby, he nodded at one of the tenants, who was milling about. Then, he took her to the elevator, calling it down. After waiting a couple seconds, it arrived, and he stepped inside with her. He pushed the button for the sixth floor, and soon they were in the hallway, Rory leading Dizzy to his apartment, number 624. Unlocking the door, he let her in before following, shutting the door behind him.

    He looked around at his rather messy living room. What could he say? It was a single man's home, and he didn't have anyone he tried to impress. There was only one spot that wasn't dirty; his computer area. " we are," he said somewhat awkwardly. "The bedroom is the last door down the hallway, the bathroom right next to it. There's hot water and a running shower if you want to use it, too." He wasn't normally this weird, but he understokd wwhat having a woman in your house typically meant, and he wanted his neighbors to not have anything new to gossip about him come tomorrow.

    "I'm...just gonna grab some clothes. There should be food in the fridge or the pantry. Help yourself." Rory retreated to his bedroom, and made a mad dash to clean it, picking up old t-shirts and boxes and finding places for them. Then, he changed, pulling on a black shirt and his favorite pair of jeans. Returning to the living room, he smiled slightly at Dizzy before leaning across the breakfast bar and asking, "So...any particular reason you were in the subway? Were you at the protest?" He didn't want to seem nosy or anything, but he was truly curious. She seemed like the type of girl who would be working for the government, not against them.

    "Um, you hungry? I can make something...or maybe run out to the gas station nearby and bring back chips and stuff..."
  12. Going home with utmost urgency was definitely one of Dizzy’s priorities half an hour ago, but that option isn’t really feasible anymore as she lives quite a distance away and she’s afraid that she might run into a couple of police checkpoints along the way. After all that she had to go through today, it’s only natural that she’d want nothing else to do concerning the authorities by now. So she really lucked out when this man, Emina, offered his place for her to stay. At least then, she’d be able to rest without much worry.

    Nothing much eventful happened as she followed him to his place, which turned out to be a single-person apartment unit conveniently situated in the sixth floor of a building nearby. Not that she minds it at all, since she wasn’t expecting anything fancy in the first place. In fact, she prefers it to be this way; if she found out instead that he was some sort of an heir to a multi-million company and is living in a grandiose mansion, there was no way she’d feel at ease in such a place, so stepping inside the rather messy room felt like a breath of fresh air to her. Figuratively, of course.

    As soon as the two of them stepped inside, Emina then started to give her directions as to where each she could crash in and where each and every room is while he ran back and forth in a bid to find a change of clothes. Dizzy could sense a faint hint of nervousness cracking in the tone of his voice as he spoke, making her let out a small chuckle. She kept her glee to herself, however, as she headed further in the living room, towards the couch. She then unzipped the black vest that she has on, leaving the skull designed T-shirt she has on underneath as her top.

    I really should’ve worn something else today. She grumbled as she wrapped her vest, which still smelled strongly of pepper spray, around her metallic arm and plopped down on the couch. Emina then appeared once again, wearing a new set of clothes and, along with him, a fresh set of questions in which he directly aimed towards her.

    Not that she’s finding his flurry of queries to be bothersome to answer, but she is finding his barrage to be a little too fast for her.

    “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t to be that much of a bother.” She said in regards to his offer of getting her something to eat. Actually, the reason why she would reject such his act of goodwill is because she’s still feeling a bit disoriented and that she’s afraid that she might accidentally throw up whatever food she ingests right now.

    Dizzy then pondered on his other questions. “And no, I wasn’t part of the revolt earlier. I just kind of… got caught up in it.”

    Which was true. Although she did leave out the part about her meeting up with a friend in the same exact venue as where the revolt was, she decided that Emina didn’t have to learn about that.

    Before her host could launch another set of questions, she decided that it was her turn now. “What about you? You live here, right? What do you do around here?”

    She kind of knew what the answer is going to be already, but she decided to ask it anyway. It’d make a good conversation material too.
  13. He was caught off guard when she asked him what he did. "" he flustered. "I work with computers. Software, mostly. I used to check websites for security flaws, but now I just sort of freelance." He chose not to add that in his freelance jobs, he would sometimes put a small little break in the security for him to get through whenever he wanted, just in case he needed to do a hack.

    "But yeah...I mean, those Anon guys...I saw one of them carried out, and I'm pretty sure he was dead..." It had been a long time since Anonymous had been a truly serious, viable threat to world governments, but Rory remembered his parents, who had been in the group when he was growing up. Still, there were people who were in the group now, though they weren't nearly as powerful as they once were.

    ", what do you do?" he asked, sitting on his couch, which was a faded purple color and had a shirt of his draped over the back. "Um...sorry. About the mess. I don't normally have company, and wasn't really expecting you...if I'd known I'd be having a lady over, I'd've cleaned up a bit..." He shrugged, wondering how he must seem to her: an untidy, lanky, not-too-bright guy, who was trying his best to be cordial.

    "...In the morning, I have an appointment to fulfill. It's at six, and if you want you can come along. You can sort of meet the people I associate with. Might help, understanding." He chose his words carefully. Most of the normal people in the world thought him and his group a bunch of anarchists, or just hooligans. Still, he thought, dizzy might be cool, and might not care about what he did. They might need a new member though...

    He smiled again, trying to appear friendly and approachable. He ran a hand through his hair before adding, "It'll be worth it to go...I think if you survived the pepper spray, then you're golden go know what we do...sound good?" He smiled again, adding, "but you don't have to. I can drop you off somewhere in the morning if you like."
  14. “Oh, um, I don’t really mind the mess that much. I’d hate to impose on you after all.” Was what Dizzy replied to the extent of her courtesy as Emina made a comment about how tidy his place is right now. The way she handles her own room is not so far off as the way he does anyway so if nothing else, the room’s current state makes her feel a bit relaxed.

    Although there is still that small degree of awkwardness between them as they sat on each side of the sofa. She could tell that her presence right now is making Emina uncomfortable, as possibly evidenced by his constant attempt to strike common ground with her. Whatever leader-like impression he instilled in her mind when they were back in the train, she could no longer see that resurfacing now. Not that she could put any blame on him for that, since she’s not exactly the shining example of a conversationalist either.

    Can’t be helped, I suppose. We were only just strangers to each other until a while ago...

    “Well, let’s see, what do I do, huh?” She repeated his question airily, contemplating whether she would tell him the truth of who she really is. You can never be too cautious, after all.

    “I… used to work as an accountant-for-hire for a few years but then, one thing led to another and now I perform as the vocalist for this band that my friends had started. We’re really not that well-known, though.”

    She put in that last part hastily, since the last thing she needs is yet another person having the impression of her as an arrogant braggart. She’s had her fair share of those moments with people misunderstanding the intent of her words and she doesn’t intend to relive them any time soon.

    And then Emina mentioned something about having to go somewhere early next morning and invited her to come with him. While she has no inkling as to what kind of a meeting he’s going to, there’s really no reason for her to say no to him. She has nothing else to do anyway other than avoid the cops for a while.

    “Sure, I don’t mind tagging along if you’d have me.” She said, returning a smile back to her gracious host. As she stared back at him, though, she is reminded of someone else with the same kind of attitude and mannerism…

    Someone important to her…

    “Oh!” She began all of the sudden as she remembered something. Perhaps it was the sharp smell emanating from her clothing that reminded her as she stood back up from the couch and looked down on her black-colored garment, a faint hint of disgust appearing on her face.

    “Since we’re going to leave so early in the morning, maybe I should freshen up now then?” She muttered wonderingly. But then again, she has to address her dilemma of where she’s going to nab a spare set of clothing first if she’s planning to do anything of the like.
  15. "Sure. If you want to get out if those clothes, I can lend you some pajama pants and a t-shirt if you'd like. If you want, I can also run your clothes through the wash, of you want. It takes a couple times for the smell to come out, but it'd be bearable. I need to wash my clothes, anyways, so it's not a problem," he added, trying to feel more normal around her. Brushing a hand through his hair, be caught a whiff of the spicy, strong scent of pepper spray, which was now permeating his skin and hair. He would need a shower, too, but he could wait.

    "You can take as long as you want. I don't mind." He smiled again, before walking to the kitchen, deciding that he might as well eat something while Dizzy was in the bathroom. Making himself a sandwich, he devoured it before quickly cleaning the living room, finding places for his things and moving all of the clothes into his bedroom, doing his best to get everything into the dresser and closet. Throwing away the strewn papers of a failed project which lay nearly everywhere, he sighed as he looked at one of them, wishing he could do work like that again.

    He tossed the papers away, before gazing at his handiwork. It seemed a few minutes of cleaning actually worked. Looking around the living room, he went to the linens closet and took out an extra blanket, setting it on the couch for himself. Sitting down, he took off his boots, sighing softly. Stretching, he yawned, his muscles aching and his body drained from the collective energy of the rally.

    Lying down on the couch, he sighed, gazing up at his ceiling and praying that everyone of his friends had made it out of the protest, and would be safe at the meeting place tomorrow morning. He couldn't lose another friend. Not again.
  16. “Oh, that’d be nice. Thanks.” Dizzy said in response to the kind offers of her host. She then headed towards the door that Emina had indicated earlier as the one heading to the bathroom, pushed it open and felt for the light switch inside.

    As soon as she managed to hit the lights, the first thing she found was… well, a bathroom. Nothing less, nothing special; just a small square room surrounded with tiled walls and with a toilet, sink and shower all crammed inside. She didn’t really expect to find anything aside from those three, not that finding anything else different would matter to her, as long as she can get some running water from it.

    With the door firmly shut behind her, Dizzy pulled a lock from her hair, releasing it from the bun that it was tied into as it unfurled into a flow of long black hair that goes down just above her midsection. Taking a moment to look at her own reflection in front of the mirror hanging by the wall, she wondered about the last time she let her hair down like this. It’s not that it looks bad as it is, but she’s kind of gotten the habit to unnecessarily stylize her hair into a wide variation of different looks, just to see if they would work.

    Maybe I should try another style for tomorrow? She thought idly as she began to undress. Everything that can be taken off, she tossed on one corner of the room. She would’ve done the same too with the skirt she’s wearing until she felt something heavy weigh down inside. Curious, she rummaged through its pockets to find her black smartphone hiding inside.

    “Oh, I thought the police confiscated this or something.” She muttered, clicking a button on its side. The phone then revealed a close-up picture of a flower with white petals: a cosmos, which serves as her avatar. She played with it for a bit and, after making sure that it’s working fine and she received no messages from anyone, she carefully placed it on the space beside the sink and then jumped the shower.

    Contrary as to what many might think, bathing with a metal arm isn’t that difficult. Of course, it did feel weird to have something metallic running all around your body and the fact that you can’t actually use anything to clean it makes it all the more stranger. You also have to keep yourself from scrubbing too much; otherwise you’d find yourself scratched up all of the sudden; Dizzy learned that the hard way a couple of times.

    After several minutes of much deserved self-care, Dizzy then stepped out from shower. Finding a towel and a set of spare home clothes hanging by a hook behind the door, she proceeded to wipe her body clean and donned on the white shirt and cargo pants that are both evidently too large for her. She then started attacking her long hair with the towel, which made her stay in there even longer. She made a mental apology to Emina for hogging the bathroom so much.

    Her hair half-dry now, she took her phone from the sink’s countertop and opened the door. Finding that the living room is quiet now, she deduced that Emina had fallen asleep already. As quietly as she can, she made her way inside his bedroom, entered it and immediately fell on top of the bed mattress.

    The moment that her body hit the cushion, she almost got knocked out unconscious. Her exhaustion from her travels up to her most recent experiences at the train had only settled in now and she was feeling dead tired all of the sudden. Slowly, she could feel her consciousness slipping as she lay facedown on top of the bed…

    Until her phone started ringing a medley of random piano notes, effectively knocking out whatever sleepiness that was in her system. Disgruntled, she snatched the phone from the wooden bedside table and swiped across its screen to unlock it.

    … A text message? Who could be sending me one now?

    … Maybe she shouldn’t have asked so soon.

    tomorrow 6am. follow emina

    -- Ami
  17. After a while, Rory fell asleep, his lips slightly parted. He was a deep sleeper, and was oblivious to Dizzy as she went to the bedroom, too tired to care. The day, and the night, had all tired him out. His body only wanted to sleep, damn the consequences. He didn't dream, or if he did, they weren't of any significance.

    When five o'clock rolled around, his internal clock woke him up, and soon he was stretching and yawning. Turning on the coffee maker, he rolled his shoulders, trying not to catch a whiff of the pepper spray. Jumping into the shower, he let the hot water wake him up, his blue eyes bright in the morning. One thing was certain: Rory was a morning person.

    Once he was done with his shower, feeling clean and happy, he knocked on the door to his bedroom, a towel around his waist. "Excuse me, um, Dizzy," he said. "I kinda need to get some clothes, if you wouldn't mind." One way or another, he got dressed, and was soon checking his computer for any emails. Nothing new had come in, which he took as a good sign.

    Back on the couch, he tugged on his boots, lacing up as quickly as he could. Afterwards, he popped a bagel into the toaster, his stomach growling. Making one for Dizzy as well, he got out the jam, butter, and cream cheese, not sure how she wanted it. Spreading the cream cheese on his with a knife, he took a bite before pouring coffee into his cup, mixing in some cinnamon, honey, and sugar. Stirring everything, he took a sip, made a face, and added some more cinnamon.

    Once he saw Dizzy, he asked, "Want some breakfast? I made bagels and coffee." He was proud of his work. On normal days, he would get by on chips and salsa, a staple food in his apartment, but he was mildly surprised to find the bagels. When he was working, food came second, so it was rare when he cooked something, even if it was just putting a bagel in the toaster.

    Drinking down his coffee, he wolfed down his bagel, feeling like he was starving. "We'll have to walk a part of the way, I hope that's not too much trouble..."
  18. Waking up isn’t exactly one of Dizzy’s strongest suits, and this was evidenced by the fact of her not budging an inch as Emina entered the room to search for clothing. While he didn’t stay too long trying to fit in his clothes, he did end up bringing Dizzy’s mind back to the land of the conscious. She remained lying on his bed, completely motionless and trying to keep her mind blank, for a couple more minutes before she finally gave up attempting to fall asleep again. Pushing herself up from the mattress, she aimlessly made her way outside the room.

    She didn’t even bother ironing out the horrendous bed hair wilting from her head as she wandered to where the aroma of coffee was coming from. She heard Emina saying something when he caught sight of her, but she was still too groggy to even pay attention. When the piping hot mug got within her reach, she held on to it with both hands, like it was some sort of highly delicate relic, and brought it up to her lips.

    The moment she did, however, she almost spat out what she sipped. Putting on a disgusted face, she grabbed the sugar-filled container and dumped a huge chunk of its content in her drink. As for the bagel, she didn’t bother putting any spread on it. She immediately started munching on it as the mere sight of it only reminded her that she didn’t take any supper the day before and how deathly starved she’s feeling right now.

    When she was starting to feel more like herself, she looked up to see Emina almost finished in fixing himself up by the couch. “I don’t mind the walk, but what kind of meeting is it going to be?” She asked, as curiosity got the better of her at that very moment. She is going to meet up with a bunch of people that she has never met before, so knowing a bit more about them would definitely help clear the uncertainty in her head.
  19. "Some of the guys I work with. A lot of them were at the rally last night, and I told them to be there at six. It's just to make sure no one got arrested. But I think you'll like them. They're a good group of people," Rory explained.

    Once they were both ready, Rory grabbed his backpack, keys, and wallet and left, heading out onto the street again. Rory took a long, winding path through the city's alleys in order to not be followed or ID'd by anyone, making the five minute stroll become fifteen minutes.

    Still, they got to his crew's base: an old warehouse on the bank of the winding river that ran through town. On the outside, it didn't look like much, but on the inside it was their Nirvana, the only place they were certain no one was watching, government or otherwise. The homeless knew not to enter it either, having started calling it the 'police raid waiting to happen.' All of them were certain that Rory and his friends would all be taken away soon.

    Maybe so, but Rory had been planning for that for nearly half a year.

    Leading Dizzy to the side door, he opened it and revealed a large lounge area. Rory's group of friends had converted the inside of the derelict warehouse into their playpen. In the center of the warehouse floor was a common room of sorts, where everyone hung out and talked or watched television. On the sides were makeshift cubicles made of anything resembling a wall: chain link fence, sheets of cardboard, you name it. Each cubicle also had a name near the entrance, labeling whoever owned it. Upstairs, on the catwalks, were four offices, which had been converted into bedrooms for whenever they needed a place to stay.

    "Welcome to our little Nirvana," Rory said, leading Dizzy in. Passing the stairs up, he entered the commons area, where someone was playing music off of a device that must have been twenty or thirty years old. It had an apple on the back, and had hours worth of music on it, most of which was banned.

    "Hey," Rory said, once he saw them. Everyone was sitting on the couches arranged in the room, some holding each other, others crying. This was a rare occurrence, everyone sitting in the commons area. Normally, at least one person would be off skulking or working. In fact...

    "Where's Vira?" Rory asked. Vira was his girlfriend, and his best friend. To have her gone...something must be up.

    "During the rally," said Aech, a blonde young man holding close a slightly younger one, his boyfriend, "Vira, Fal, and I were on the left side of the square. When shots began getting fired, she went right up to the riot shields and they let her through. Vira's fucking one of them!" The last sentence was shouted.

    Rory was floored. of them?!

    ((Sorry I haven't posted. I haven't really been up to it lately...))
  20. While the music player played some upbeat pop song, the atmosphere in the whole room remained in the complete opposite as one of its male occupants, a blondie, shouted the last part of his sentence. And from the sounds of it, it didn't seem like it's news worth cheering about. Even Emina, who had been cheerful and talkative around Dizzy, didn't make any sound as he heard the blonde's words, so it's safe to assume that this... Vira is an important person of his.

    However important though, she couldn't tell from his expression as Dizzy had opted to put a several feet distance between them. The reason is because, from the very moment she stepped inside the room, she got subjected into enduring a plethora of stares, some which are curious, others out of suspicion. She couldn't blame them for their outright display of coldness though; after all they've been through the past twenty-four hours, it'd only be natural for them to be feeling uncomfortable being in a room with someone who could potentially become a thorn to their side.

    Little do they know, she's still pretty much undecided on what she's going to do next. She doesn't even know what is it that they are fighting to police for, nor does she think that it'd make any sense for her to know right now. She's here for another reason, after all.

    And come to think of it, she still couldn't shake off that feeling of being watched after she had been standing motionless for a few minutes now. Normally, people who had no connections with her would be disinterested by this point, so it's either this person is really that wary of her or...

    “Wow, it really is you. I could swear I saw you wearing less baggy clothes when I saw you yesterday...”

    This voice! Dizzy thought to herself, her heart jumping as she heard the quiet muttering of a woman coming from somewhere behind her. As she made to turn around, though...

    “Don't look; I don't want to look any more suspicious as you do.” The voice said, sounding a bit distressed. Feeling restrained, Dizzy kept her gaze straight at everyone else sitting by the couches in the middle of the room.

    “... So that message from last night and the one that made me cross half the country for this city... Ami wasn't the one who sent them, huh?” She said slowly as she realized something. “You're the one who sent them. Right, Chelle?”

    A small chuckle came before Chelle made her reply, “I'm actually known as Nex over here. And don't worry about that; I'm just here to pass something for her. I at least owe her that much.”

    With that, she felt something small and rectangular being pressed into her non-artificial hand. Judging from its size, it's probably a memory card. Dizzy wondered what could be inside it, but decided that there's a more pressing issue that she must inquire about.

    “Where is she right now?”

    She could hear Chelle click her tongue, as if she's contemplating on what her answer will be. It seems like an indirect and cryptic answer is imminent.

    “That, I can't say for certain right now. However, I could tell you that our key in finding her would be in helping Emina in his little revolution.”
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