citylogs | [ OPEN ] want to be free

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[ OPEN ] want to be free

WHO: Kim Kitsuragi (

aceslow) & YOU
WHAT: Various July activities -- both for the event (happy to receive items/memories too!) and for every day activities.
WHERE: Throughout the City; bank, shopping centres, parks, etc.
WHEN: Through til the end of July.
WARNINGS: Probable discussions regarding racism, loss, and the diaspora.

[ EVENT ] a. in the vault.

[ The deserted bank is an eerie place as it is. On a Lieutenant's salary, Kim barely has enough money to put in the bank as it is, let alone frequent one as extravagantly wealthy as this one; the minute he steps foot in it with his grubby boots and worn - though well-maintained - jacket, he feels immediately out of place, a sense of unease dogging his steps. His footsteps are loud in the echo chamber that is the grand hall. Eventually, he makes his way back to where the keys are, name after name etched on the side of the keychain. It's a trap if he's ever seen one. He hesitates, hand hovering just over the keys, brow furrowed. ]

This is almost certainly a trap.

[ Then, decisively, he yanks it off the wall, then glances behind him towards whoever his companion may be. ]

But it's the best lead we've got. You coming?

[ OOC NOTE: The item I've chosen concerns racism & the diaspora, please only respond to this prompt if those are subjects you're comfortable with! ]

[ EVENT ] b. out and about.

[ After the whole messy incident with the vault, Kim's taken to keeping the toy plane with him, burning a hole in his pocket. In all honesty, it's not something that brings him any solace, any comfort; if anything he feels desperately uncomfortable about it. But after everything, it feels almost sacriligious to leave it in the apartment he's hunkered down in, unguarded, unprotected, the sole personal possession next to the rest of the nondescript apartment. It feels equally as wrong to leave it in the bank where he had found it, as though abandoning it again means --

God, he doesn't know. He's not one for analyzing his own thoughts and feelings. Straight ahead, down his narrow, narrow path. That's how he's always been, how he'll always be. So he puts it firmly out of mind for the time being as he goes along his daily business, pacing about the city, investigating every nook and cranny with a fine tooth comb, and largely trying to keep himself busy, whether that's in the park, in a store, or even roaming once more through City Hall. Whatever public place you can think of, he's there. ]

[ OOC NOTE: We can wrap the event into any of the other prompts as well, but this one is intended for sharing of objects/memories! Please feel free to have your character share theirs first (or have only them share it, without that reciprocation) if you like; I never mind a backstory dump. :) ]

c. daily life (shopping / exercising / a midnight smoke).

[ With little else at his disposal other than the grim dawning realization that if he truly has to start making a functional life for himself here, Kim can be seen during daily life in the City taking what he needs.

Perhaps you find him in the supermarket or convenience store, the handle of his shopping basket nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he stares at the shelves with a light frown on his face, combing the shelves for this and that: salt, cabbage, meat and onions rank chiefly among his purchases, but it looks like he's working his way towards a very bland meal -- that, and he seems to be pretty concerned about getting really badly injured, if the amount of painkillers, bandages, and other first-aid goods are of any indication.

Or perhaps you find him in the park, jogging around its perimeter again, and again, and again, and again... he'll periodically stop, huffing and puffing more than he'd care to fess up to. There's nothing better to do around here, after all, and he feels a certain compulsion to remain in shape (though all embarassing stretches take place in the privacy of his own bedroom; an old man he may be to some here, but he's not old enough to start congregating in the park with the other seniors) to face whatever dangers he's convinced have yet to come. If you catch his eye, he'll nod in greeting with a small smile, wiping the sweat off his brow, suddenly self-conscious. ] Afternoon. Pity there's no gym in this place.

[ Or maybe you're another night owl, coming across Kim leaning against a wall, silhouetted by the street lamps above, staring contemplatively off into the distance as he lights a cigarette. Before he takes a single drag, he takes a deep breath, as though even contemplating his cigarette brings some measure of serenity to his soul. He takes that first drag like an addict does; savouring it, hoping it never comes to an end. But as he blows out a large plume of smoke, he'll look your way, nodding in greeting. If you're clearly of age and look interested, he'll extend the cigarette carton in your direction, asking, ] Want one?

d. weapon creation.

[ It's been long enough that Kim has gathered the fact that all of their weapons have been forcibly taken from them, right down to the blade attachment in his poor multi-tool. With just one glimpse of Kim, it's easy to see that he's not a man who's used to getting into physical altercations all-too often, preferring to rely on the security of his firearm, but it's not as though he can make a gun.

Besides, this isn't purely for self defense. Rather, it's an experiment: if weapons are so highly prohibited, then is the creation of them also prohibited? Will he wake cuffed like that fellow on the network behind him? It's a small punishment, as punishments go, so Kim decides to risk it, heading to park as the sun begins to wane, long shadows cast over the entire area. After gathering some of the natural resources around the park, as well as a few helpful items lifted from shops here and there, he sits cross-legged on the grass and gets to work, beginning by taking some kitchen utensils and industriously hacking away at a particularly sturdy branch to attempt to make a fine point.

From his grumbling, it's not going particularly well. He could really use a hand. ]

Ugh. I could really use my damn knife right about now.

e. wildcard!

[ Wildcard! Feel free to make up your own prompt - Kim can be found out and about the City at large - and I'm happy to roll with it! Feel free to brainstorm with me on my plotting post or hit me up on plurk! I'd be happy to write custom starters as well. ]

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Something like that. Partly old habit.

[ As a Fixer, she'd definitely do patrols at night, especially during the times where crime was just purposefully glanced away from. But it's true enough that having nightmares about getting her head caved in isn't really encouraging when it comes to trying to go to sleep in the first place.

Gebura pauses to inhale, a little appreciatively, letting the smoke settle and warm her from the inside before breathing out. ]

Less stupid conversations I have to have about maybe not blindly trusting everything here with people at this time of night.

[ Kim snorts quietly. ] I've been lucky. Most people I've met have been at least half as paranoid as I've been.

[ He could probably do with being more paranoid, frankly. He's made the deliberate decision to trust the other people here, not because he feels any deep kinship with them, but because to act otherwise would be an easy way to go mad. All they've got here is each other. For the time being, they have to maintain some semblance of societal norms, or else --

Well, or else people will go around killing each other, but apparently that's already begun. At least it was ostensibly consensual murder. Would wonders never cease. ]

Though we've been stripped of our choice to just not trust everything here, haven't we? We're reliant on what they give us for survival. If they decided to strip that away, that would be it. First couple of days, I didn't even want to eat.

I wonder if you could starve here. [ Thoughtfully. What a great topic to discuss, truly. ]

Think we've pretty much established that if you're killed here, you come back, but is that something that counts if you choose to starve to death? Or is it murder only?

... For the record, I'm not interested in testing that out. I've done my time. [ Dying?? ]

Me too, [ Kim says, perhaps mistakenly assuming the much more rational interpretation of having gone hungry. It has never gotten to the point of absolute desperation, but he's well acquainted with hunger pangs and counting pennies at the local market, staring glumly into empty cupboards and wondering how far he could stretch the rest of it. Those times are long past him now, and he's not particularly eager to repeat them. ]

It's a good theory. But fortunately, one that fewer people are willing to put to the test than more violent ends. [ Absolute madness. Kim still can't quite believe that someone had gone to those ends, much to the lasting trauma of several people. Still, a bigger part of him can't blame them; it's been two months already, and here they remain, no closer to being able to figure out what's going on. ] Though I'm a little surprised that they chose to test murder before suicide.

[ If Kim were desperate enough to test the theory, that's what he'd do. He doesn't like involving others in his business at the best of times. But he's not willing to go that far. He prefers a slower suicide -- like what he's smoking right now. Thoughtfully, he taps ash from its tip onto the pavement below. ]

Were you involved in that mess?

[ Gebura could honestly have meant both. She was a kid in the slums, after all. The reason she'd survived at all had been the kindness of strangers (and they had always disappeared or she'd tripped over their bodies the following morning) and her own realization that she had to start paying attention in order to survive. But she remembers what starving had felt like. Hell, the way her district treated people more like delicacies than living beings...

Well, anyway. ]

What, the murder test? I told her she was being an idiot but I went to see things through and she's definitely due for a harder lesson sooner rather than later. I learned something from it too and I'm not exactly thrilled about it.

[ Kim's brows rise in surprise. ] You knew her? [ He pauses, recalibrating. ] Know her. I'm still getting used to this whole coming-back-from-the-dead thing.

[ He doesn't think he likes it. Yes, there are a fair few people he wishes had magically come back from the dead, but the idea of people coming back like that just sits wrong in his gut. He's had enough nightmares about bodies he's investigating suddenly popping up to harangue him without it becoming a reality. ]

What else did you learn about it? I can't say that I commend the act itself, but we may as well use all the information we can get to our advantage.

I get it. It's not in a way I would've expected, either.

[ Probably more convenient than the method Gebura did know, but that's neither here nor there. ]

But yeah, it turns out she's from the same place back home, more or less. Heart's in the right place, head's about two blocks and bad traffic behind it.

So, apparently just witnessing it--or, I'm guessing, being there and doing nothing to stop it... might have caused something like a sympathetic nightmare. At least in my case, when I try to sleep, I relive her death like I was the one who got my head bashed in.

God.

[ Kim can't help but sympathetically wince, the most exaggerated expression anyone has seen from his otherwise inexpressive face since his arrival. He can't help it; even as a homicide detective, he's often plagued with dreams of the victims. What they've been through, what their last moments were, their wrath at their deaths. But even so, Kim's own imagination can only go so far; instead of filling in the gaps where death lays, Kim's dreams simply have him feel nothing.

This goes well beyond that. ]

That's horrible. [ He rubs his chin. ] And shouldn't be possible. I didn't know they could get into our heads like that.

[ It's a discomfiting thought. ]

I wonder if it's meant as a punishment. We know that there are punishments for such things, after all. How long have you been having these dreams for?

Close to a week now.

[ Would have been nice if she'd been back in her machine body where she hadn't needed to sleep at all, but it is what it is and she just has to put up with it. It's not like she doesn't know what it feels like to die, and technically, her own death had been far less merciful than Don Quixote's, but it's a difficult thing to feel grateful for when one considers the circumstances. ]

And yeah, I'd consider it a punishment. Maybe they're assuming witnesses meant no one tried to stop it from occurring and they're considering it being complicit instead.

Shit. You must be exhausted. No wonder you're smoking out here, [ Kim says, more openly sympathetic now. He taps some ash from off the tip of his cigarette as he contemplates this -- contemplates the fact that the last thing he did before coming here was take another man's life. A woman's life too. He doesn't regret it, but he's not proud of it either.

Still, what would he be dreaming right now? A bullet, whizzing towards his face, a crunch of skull, the scent of iron, and -- nothing. ]

I'd say that they consider you complicit, yes. There seems to be an odd preoccupation with punishment here. That other guy talked about waking up with his hands cuffed, though he never said what it is he actually did. [ Kim's lip twists. ] I can't help but wonder if that's what this whole place is about. Some sort of punishment. God knows must of us here have done something or another they'd deem worthy of it.

Oh, I wouldn't argue with that theory.

[ How could she? Gebura had suffered enough in two lives as it was, but this third life still required fights to the death to reach an end goal and even though she didn't like what she had to do, she followed through with it. If they consider witnessing a death a sin, they would most definitely have a thing or two to say about her job back home.

Her next exhalation is a little weary. ]

All the same, though, I can't say I like them imposing that kind of authority without even a warning. Not even bothering to show their faces just pisses me off.

See, that's what gets to me too. Yes, there's such thing as right or wrong, legal or illegal, but there's no sense in it without due process, or without even letting us know what laws we're to abide by. Especially here, where we all come from incredibly different backgrounds. [ Kim jabs his cigarette in mid-air for emphasis as he speaks, getting a little riled up now that he's been given the opportunity to complain about it. ] After someone woke up in handcuffs, I even visited those kiosks again to see if there was any information at all about the laws we're expected to abide by. Nothing. Not available at this time.

[ Kim prides himself on upholding the law. It's a thorny job, accompanied by a structure that's more corrupt than not, but still. He can abide by the rules. It's all he can do. ]

There's no such thing as common sense when you're dealing with this array of people. [ He glances over at Gebura. ] And being treated as accessory to murder by virtue of witnessing it doesn't sit well with me. Besides, you're right. They haven't so much as given us a written missive, let alone show their faces.

[ Either this man has not had the opportunity to rant until now (poor guy) or this is just a topic he feels powerfully about. Or both. Either way, it's easy enough to pick up that he's got strong opinions about this topic in particular, so Gebura hears him out in relatively sympathetic silence.

There's no such thing as common sense, he says, and this is also familiar to home. Assuming everyone was going to follow the same kind of logic or even common decency was just asking to end up on the serving plate at the diner down the street or robbed on your way home or some other problem. No one had dreams in the City and usually the only desire was just to put yourself first.

She shouldn't find this strange and she doesn't, but she does still find it aggravating. ]

At this point, I think it's more likely that they're going to stick with that plan of action. Which I'd rather kick down, honestly. Trust me, once I figure out where they're hiding, they're gonna wish they'd showed their faces a hell of a lot sooner.

They're not planning on doing anything differently, and they hold all the cards here. You're right -- it doesn't look promising for us.

[ With a smooth gesture that gives away the sheer habitual nature of the act, he butts his cigarette out on the heel of his boot and tosses it off to the side, exhaling one last, treasured, plume of smoke. ]

If we do find them, then it's time for answers. [ He purses his lips. ] Honestly, I don't know about subduing them without any weapons at our disposal. Unless you happen to be a master at hand-to-hand?

Not a master, no. I can hold my own, but it'd be nice to have more weapons around.

[ She misses her sword!! ]

Then again, I guess it's a matter of just making use of what we have on hand, like the baseball bats in the sports equipment place.

You know, I've been experimenting with trying to make my own. Nothing grand -- I'm not exactly trained in doing much more than cobbling things together. But being that they confiscated our weaponry and punish us arbitrarily, as you yourself have experienced, I thought it was a good experiment. To see if they would punish us for it. [ He shrugs. ] It may be my shoddy craftmanship to blame, but so far I haven't been penalized.

[ Not that he can make a gun for himself. God, what he wouldn't give. ]

What did you do back home, to have that sort of training?

Hell, I'd try out one of your cobbled whatevers anytime.

[ Listen, it's still an improvement over seeing if you can just use a kitchen knife swiftly enough. ]

But I used to be a Fixer--think something like a mercenary, though in my case, it was taking on all kinds of jobs and protecting people when they needed it. You end up seeing a lot of combat and if you don't die from it, you learn from it.

[ He shoots her a wry grin. ] I don't think you actually want to. Most of them are just sharp rocks and knives stuck to long sticks. I had something like a spear in mind, but it all went a bit awry. If I really need a weapon, I'm sticking with my crowbar.

[ That can do some hefty damage on its own, he knows. But it's not the sort of thing you use if you don't want the other guy dead. There's gotta be some in-between, somewhere.

His eyes brighten with recognition at her words after that, though. ]

You're the second Fixer I've met. There seems to be quite a few people from your world around here, isn't there? Unusually so. [ The implications of that... well, Kim doesn't know, save for the fact that the people here seem to be from tumultuous backgrounds, and people from their world seem to be very tumultuous indeed. ] The other fellow was more of a security guard than a personal guard, though. I suppose that must be one of the perks of mercenary work -- I imagine you more or less get to choose your own assignments. Unless you all work underneath a greater organization, of course.

I'm pretty fond of tire irons myself right now. Can't make up for my original weapon, but as you know, improvising is pretty much a necessity for survival, no matter where you are.

[ ... But she doesn't look too surprised to hear this, nodding. Yeah. A few, which will increase a strange amount in the future, but Present Gebura doesn't know that yet. ]

Most Fixers will work for an Office and only handle requests formally processed and approved through that particular office. The lower the Grade, the more independence you're afforded, and Color Fixers don't tend to associate with an Office and take only the requests they want to. It's all about rank and title, in the City--some parts of it more than others, but pretty much present everywhere.

It's all very bureaucratic. I had quite a lengthy conversation with Don Quixote myself, before she... well. She was quite effusive about the position, and very knowledgable about the general workings of her area.

[ And that terrifying train that Kim is convinced is killing people. ]

I'm well used to bureaucracy. [ He hooks his thumb into his pocket, gazing contemplatively out at the street before them. ] Rank and title being meaningful is universal, after all. But the place you're from sounds particularly stratified to me. It must be odd to come to a place like this. None of that exists here.

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[ OPEN ] want to be free

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cw suicide mentions

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