Public District Nine: Cold Snap

[Doc Painless]

Skeevi got the gangsters a lantern, clearly uneasy as they did, and the Doc couldn't fault them; they were probably used to staying out of the way of organized crime, one of the unwritten rules that virtually all of Denon's street kids obeyed. He wouldn't have asked if he'd thought they would be in any danger, of course. These gangsters had an image to maintain, and wouldn't do anything that would ruin it for their boss. Sure enough, the minute the underlings started in on discussing some worrying ideas, their red-headed leader literally smacked it out of them. As long as Skeevi and the Doc stayed in public, and the Hutt wanted public goodwill, they'd be perfectly safe.

The street medic moved to help the gangsters unload, adding their supplies to his distribution line and getting their food-warming equipment set up. So far as he could tell, it was good stuff, a genuine help to the people here. It vindicated his decision to not look a gift fathier in the mouth; he'd take humanitarian aid no matter who it came from, because the only part that mattered was who it helped. Long experience had taught him to focus only on what he could control, and not worry about the rest. Maybe this stuff was stolen, or extorted, or manufactured by slave labor in some sweatshop. He couldn't change that, but he could at least give it out to people in need, put it to good use.

"So, robot-man, what made ya decide playin' good cop in a place covered by chit-lords?" The Doc laughed at Mercy's question, an open, genuine chuckle. "Someone ought to," he said, offering her a shrug. "I have the skills to help, and no one else was stepping up." He didn't go into his past, into all the terrible things he needed to make up for, the misdeeds that kept him up at night every night until drowned in whiskey. What he'd said was the truth, after all, just not the whole truth. Someone did need to help these people, because it was the right thing to do. "May I ask what inspired Alichos's generosity today? Same number of chit-lords as yesterday, just colder."

He had guesses, and probably wouldn't get a straight answer, but he was curious what the gangster would say.

The sound of an approaching vehicle made him tense. Speeders weren't wildly common down here, and it was mostly Corpos who had them. Had CorpSec come to mess with the giveaway, maybe claim they lacked some made-up license and demand a bribe? Or had someone spilled the beans that Doc Painless, wanted terrorist, was the man in charge of this little operation? The Doc shut his eyes, remembering his exit plans - sewer grates, abandoned buildings, anywhere he could use to break line of sight and slip away. His hand fell to his gun again, tightening on the grip as the tent flap swept open. But then he relaxed again; this was no CorpSec patrol after all.

"Thank you," the Doc told the Donna, inclining his head. He didn't know much about this woman and her mysterious enforcers, but again, he wasn't about to complain if she was bringing in supplies free of charge. More food, and warm clothing alongside the blankets, would help them stretch their resources much further. What did worry him a bit was that two different criminal organizations - or so he assumed - were now involving themselves in the same charity giveaway. Would Alichos's henchmen be upset at the dilution of goodwill toward their master now that someone else was also helping out? The street medic did not need a brawl - or worse, a firefight - in his tent.

"I'm grateful for the supplies and the protection," he cautiously but graciously replied, "and I'm sure the locals will be as well." He raised his voice a little, making sure that Mercy and Ivory could tell his words were meant for them both. "I hope we can agree that this is neutral ground, where everyone but CorpSec is welcome, and where we won't need any blasters unless they show up." Please, please don't turn my disaster relief into a violent contest, he silently pleaded with both. Things were always tense when you got potential rivals in the same room, even if they were planning on doing pretty much the same thing. Especially then, actually.

"What do you know about her?" the Doc asked Skeevi in butchered, implant-translated Jawaese, covertly pointing a thumb at Ivory.

Skeevi Merrill | Mercy | Ivory Stroud​

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"What do you know about her?" the Doc asked Skeevi in butchered, implant-translated Jawaese, covertly pointing a thumb at Ivory.

Keeping at least one eye on both Mercy and Ivory Stroud without actually looking at either of them, Skeevi sidled up to the Doc.

<Gave her a nice tattoo once,> they mumbled in Jawaese, spacing the words out so the Doc could pick them up. <Tipped 20%, sixty for fifty. Smells like gun oil and offworld money, Coruscant money.> The word they picked for 'money' was the term 'jo jo muma,' technically 'one hundred million' but colloqially 'a fortune.' <All I got.>

Shavvit, they'd only gimmicked three lanterns so far. Good cash at thirty a pop, sure, but you had to lean in hard when a windfall came or it might not last until the next one. Skeevi got back to jury-rigging.

 

[Mercy]

Skeevi Merrill Doc Painless Ivory Stroud

Doc was entirely correct that Ivory's people showing up got Alichos' on edge. They were already clutching their holsters, keeping hands close to guns and knives, while squinting at the new arrivals with obvious distrust.

Most of them anyway.

Mercy on the other hand was as relaxed as an ol' dog who jus' had some feed and was busy sleeping the food coma off. "Sure, ya can ask, but all ya gon' hear is how the gracious Alichos wants what's best for this district." Mercy drawled bemusedly as she noticed Ivory pop up out of nowhere. That lady had her fingers in every piece of the pie, no?

"Ask me again once my contract with him is up, preferably over a drink, an' we can re-evaluate." She opened up another crate, sorting out the goods as Ivory's men began unloading their own business.

"Boys, please." Addressing Alichos' gangsters. She was just a contractor, but- "We ain't 'ere to swing swords an' kark around for ego sake. Let's show the neighborhood that the Hutt's folks play nicely, eh? Maybe they will respect ya for more than the contents of yar blasters in return." A nasty grin there at that challenge. They shuffled back and forth, still staring at the Family and itching for a fight. But they realized that without Mercy backing them... well, it would be a karking massacre.

And most of the butchery would be done onto their own men.

"That's better." Once the men stopped whining like petulant school children and got back to work. She gave Ivory a little salute, before getting back to work alongside Doc, addressing him once again. "Ya know, when I gotta be the adult in the room, clearly some chit is wrong."

She didn't much like it.

 

[Ivory Stroud]

"I hope we can agree that this is neutral ground, where everyone but CorpSec is welcome, and where we won't need any blasters unless they show up."

The Donna had immediately read the shift in the small tent - she hadn't been aware Alichos The Hutt held any interest in "legitimate" assistance for The Poor. It had been a slight miscalculation on her part; she expected her involvement would probably initiate some form of contact with the slug. She'd worry about a sit-down later. Right now, she was paying attention to the glares from Mercy's crew.

"Boys, please." Addressing Alichos' gangsters. She was just a contractor, but- "We ain't 'ere to swing swords an' kark around for ego sake. Let's show the neighborhood that the Hutt's folks play nicely, eh? Maybe they will respect ya for more than the contents of yar blasters in return."

She flashed a grin toward the tall bruiser - the two had shared a few drinks in the past and Ivory had respect for the Mercenary. If Mercy was in charge, Ivory wasn't altogether that concerned. She gave the woman a nod, appreciating Mercy's command over her people.

However, if something were to happen beyond their control, she expected her soldiers might have to worry about enemies both within & without.

"Agreed. The Family has no claim to District 9; we're only here to provide aid. Under my direction." She said it at a similar volume to the Doctor, so that everyone understood. The Donna held her gaze a moment longer on one of Mercy's people... the one who seemed the most vocal & the most prepared to draw his blaster. One of her own Enforcers (a human man with blonde hair, green eyes, and a scar bisecting part of his left ear) had entered the tent bearing a crate of topical analgesics, disposable heating packs, bandages & frostbite cream, set it down, and stood beside The Donna. His brow furrowed. He said nothing - knowing his place... but his own blaster rested against his ribs in a shoulder rig, concealed beneath his coat. He knew exactly, without being told, how the cards had fallen.

Ivory jerked her head toward the outside of the tent and her soldier stepped outside. Ivory turned to follow him - but not before flashing Doc Painless an apologetic look. The two could have a private conversation, if he wished.

Outside, Ivory began to organize her own people - directing them to set up the space heaters, set up a generator, and arrange their delivered goods. "Stay outside..." She instructed, then indicated a few areas in the surrounding space where four of her Soldiers could fade into the background, providing cover and a lookout. If anyone (CorpSec, Mercy's own people, or anyone else) attempted to get the drop on The Family or the gathered poor folk, they'd have a hard time picking up the Goons out of a crowd. They kept their weapons concealed, instead relying on the camouflage provided by their clothing and individual skill at blending in to their advantage.

Two of her people would begin handing out space blankets and warm clothing to the gathering, and directing others inside the tent for a hot meal and medical care if needed. They weren't there to take possession of the Operation; Ivory genuinely seemed interested in helping.

 

[Doc Painless]

As he'd expected, Doc Painless didn't get much out of the red-headed leader of Alichos's crew. If gangsters and Sith Lords and the like spent as much time explaining their devious plans in real life as they did in the holovids, well, they'd be a lot less intimidating - and foiled a lot more often. "Well, give him my best, then," the Doc replied, that bland smile plastered on his face again. Internally, though, his mind was racing. Was the Hutt planning to set up new operations in East Palpamore? Did he already have operations here, operations that he needed local goodwill to cover up? The street medic wasn't a cop. He didn't care about the legality of it, guns or spice or whatever else.

But he did care who got caught in the crossfire, so it paid to know who was shooting, and where.

So it was interesting to the Doc that the one in charge of this op was a hired gun, not a career enforcer for the Hutt... and that she was openly implying she might just spill the details when the gig was over. "I might just take you up on that," he told her. In the poorer districts, where nobody had much in the way of credits - or even those worthless CAD work vouchers - information was currency, and currency was power. He was very interested in what Mercy might have to say to him, but he wasn't going to say too much about it in front of Alichos's crew. That would probably end badly for them both; the local logic was that snitches get stitches, or more accurately, end up in ditches.

"Thanks," the Doc murmured to Skeevi, pouring over what the kid had told him. He'd vaguely heard of this woman who'd come strutting into his tent; she was known to Darkwire, certainly, having crossed paths with other runners before. But with the organization actively hunted now, pushed more completely underground than ever before, information didn't flow quite as freely between members as it used to. He wished he could ask Cassus or Daiya or Cartri (why were his first thoughts for underworld info all teenagers?) for the rundown on her, but that wasn't an option right now. He'd have to take the tidbits he could get from the tinkerer and work out how to react.

Offworld money put him on edge. Only big-time criminals and big-time businesspeople had that around here.

As Skeevi wisely faded into the background once more, stepping away from what looked like a brewing exogorth-measuring contest between the two gangs (so to speak), the Doc did his best to keep his cool. The wrong word or attitude here might well end in blasterfire. Certainly Alichos's boys weren't reacting particularly well to the newcomers, fiddling with weapon hilts and shooting nasty looks across a tent that felt somehow smaller and more cramped than it had a few minutes ago. But the redheaded leader was having none of it, and shut down all but the inevitable posturing in a few words. When I gotta be the adult in the room, she told him, clearly some chit is wrong.

"Well, I'm grateful that someone can fill the role," the Doc smiled back.

The woman with the offworld money likewise worked to deescalate... more or less. That hard stare of hers, directed at the most cocky and outspoken of Alichos's goons, spoke a simple message: you know what'll happen if you break the peace in here. The Doc shivered at the sight, impressed at the level of intimidation she could bring to bear without so much as a word. When her eyes settled him him, though, her look was apologetic. She wasn't here to posture, or to push back against Alichos; she really did seem to want to help. Again, he wasn't sure why, especially if she was an offworlder... but he wasn't about to question his good fortune. Especially when the meds came in.

That big ol' crate of first aid supplies was like a whole stack of Life Day presents rolled into one.

The little impromptu food counter was taking shape beneath the Doc and Mercy's hands; pretty soon they'd have steaming bowls of stew, nutrient bars, and warm mugs of caf to hand out, enough for a pretty good number of folks by the look of it. That meant the Doc probably ought to get back to treating people, keeping that line moving, and let Mercy take over the food line. "Try not to spill any soup on your fingers," the Doc told the redhead, handing her the ladle and the first bowl. "Though maybe you'll get hazard pay for the burns if you do." He glanced out the tent, toward Ivory, and frowned. "If you can't tell me about Alichos, what do you think her angle is?"

He wondered if he ought to go try to find out. She might be a useful contact to have.

Skeevi Merrill | Mercy | Ivory Stroud​

 

[Zo La Kund]

The "Nothing Good Happens After" hours
District 9 – The Sty

Bing Bing Bop…..Brrrrwl Bing Bing Bop…

In the very old days, the heating utilities were always very one-size fits all. Hot oil pipes running through the structure like rigid veins, flipped on with a singular switch from the boiler room, with no regard to individual preferences. This was because the true way you controlled your temperature was in in the relative opening or closing of your window. See, it was implied that your window should always be open a little bit.

It was believed that everyone always needed fresh air.

Bing Bing Bop…..Brrrrwl Bing Bing Bop…​

They were tragic optimists – There was no reason for them to believe the air wouldn't always be fresh.

This vestigial philosophy was why Mitch's window was open, its moth-eaten curtains whipping quietly underneath each wrathful whistle-blow of wind; the yellow and pink and green neons that had normally glanced through his window now a sorta blue as it bounced off all the powder white that now caked its sill, the immediate area of his apartment, and the city as a whole.

Bing Bing Bop…..Brrrrwl Bing Bing Bop…​

Mitch stirred uncomfortably in the blue-dark, his thrashing having already unmade his bed to cocoon himself in every blanket or sheet or pillowcase he had.

Bing Bing Bop…..Brrrrwl Bing Bing Bop…​

"HUUUAHHGH!," he gasped, shooting up. Steam erupting in his mouth in the frigid air, like a dragon fixing to do something about it.

Bing Bing Bop…..Brrrrwl Bing Bing Bop…

He blinked, shocked. His consciousness even vaguely aware this level cold was possible, left completely unprepared by the he-that-was when he went to sleep. Robotically, Mitch found himself searching for his holophone, engaging it. He rasped, "H-hello…? What time is it?"

"You seen outside?" It was Zo, his voice with a haste suggesting he had been up for a minute, been WAY up.

"Why are you awake?"

"Yo, kark all that – You seeing all this?"

Mitch stood groggily, moving toward the window, groaning at the snow that had piled up by the window. Sweeping the curtains back, the mechanic beheld the urban winter wonderland.

"All this snow."

"Nah, ock," Zo corrected. "All this water."

Drop the soundtrack.

Cue the montage.​

Those early morning hours, before the owners turned the lights on, were filled with preparation. Mitch grabbed his tools, some excess scraps from the yard (more appropriately, the alley), and loaded his trailer with them.

"It's probably toxic…"​

"It's not like that – This is the stuff they powder their ski slopes with; they take pictures of their children catching flakes on their tongues with -- "

" -- There isn't "poor people snow" – What would be the point? Days off from work?"

If transportation still used wheels, the travel might have been tedious – Instead, it was terrifying. Corpo-cruisers flying around like they owned the place, more malevolent scabs doing the same. Mitch, at one point, collided with some relic of a dropbox, scattering the limited contents to be immediately concealed in snowfall.

"Karking thing's on the fritz and its unloading their bag onto anyone who wants to grab it –

So, y'know, -- let's grab it"

"Yeah, but the air's bad, man – It passes through smoke, radiation…"​

For their own peace of mind, the ran a few scans – relative trajectory of the nearest weather generator, the active factories in the pathing. They even did a radiation scan to make sure this would be worth their effort, telescoping it from a project rooftop.

"Yeah, maybe – You think it's worse than what comes out the tap?"

"Huh.
Now, that's a question..."​

By the time the corpos were waking up for their commute, some of the single people from the neighborhood and wandered outside; with no kids to take care of, they felt more obliged to see what the party was about – to express their indignance and outrage at the situation. To waste heat.

Fortunately, there would already be a bonfire waiting for them.

 

[Daiya]

Daiya was used to rain.

It came often enough on Denon, particularly in the Twilight Belt. Sunnies couldn't possibly fathom what it was like, the storm clouds formed far beneath their feet and spread for hundreds of kilometers. Those were gloomy days when the teen awoke to see her sky darkened by yellow-green clouds promising acid rain. Those were the days she pulled on her armor or found a speeder ride from a friend or acquaintance, saving her from the stinging precipitation.

Something else entirely had brought her to District 9, where rumors turned to a world of wonder before her eyes. The young shadowrunner had never seen the crystalline, white flakes that drifted down from the sky. She'd heard of it happening, just on other planets. Colder planets, or planets without the kind of weather control systems that kept her planet at its chilly, but even, climate on these levels, they got this kind of winter wonderland.

Snow! In all her years, Denon never had snow.

Daiya pulled her colorful jacket close around her, ensuring that it was all zipped up to stop any more cold from seeping in. She was already wearing three more layers underneath that! The open-air speeder might not have been her smartest pick, though it was one of the cheapest without taking the packed public transit trains. She glanced over at Brie next to her, the presence of her best friend warming her in a way the coziest jacket just couldn't.

"Hey Brie, watch me catch one. Ahhhhhhh..." The teen giggled, then stuck out her tongue as the snowy wind whipped through her hair. Eventually a flake or three blew into her mouth, and she pulled her tongue back in to make the snow melt on it. Daiya made a strange face at the tasted, sticking her tongue back out to scrape against her teeth. "Ack, it tathteth awful!"

Daiya wiped her tongue off with her fingers, ready to stick it out again if her friend teased her. At least the saltiness of her skin tempered the putrid taste of the snow. The speeder-taxi took them down to an older part of District 9, where walkways still followed some of the ancient roads laid underneath them. The teen climbed out of the taxi quickly after paying, throwing her arms out to spin around. Snow crunched beneath her feet, and even if the snowfall was less intense while they weren't moving, Daiya couldn't help but find it all delightful.

"This is a-mazing!" She exclaimed, and giggled while stepping gingerly through the untouched snow. The walkway was slippery, sending her feet skidding farther than intended when she set them down. It gave Daiya an idea. She pressed her toes down, activating the heelies in her boots. Kicking off, the teen tried to glide on the snowy walkway. Friction was basically nonexistent underneath the snow, but plowing through those layers meant that it built up on the wheel and slowed her down.

"Aww, chit," Daiya remarked, looking over the bottom of her boot as she bent one knee to pull it up. She wiped off the snow —wondering if she shouldn't put on the pair of mittens she'd found in a secondhand shop that day— and tried again, but it was no use. The heelies just didn't work with the snow. The teen toed them off, grumpy arms piling against her chest. Her eyes glanced around some more, and then down the slope of the slanted walkway before them.

Delight danced on her lips as she crooned to her friend. "Ohhh Brieeeee." Daiya taunted after her spacer friend, who was probably as enamored in the snow as she was. The teen giggled with anticipation, perching on the balls of her feet. "Betcha can't catch me!"

With that, the teen raced off to the edge of the slope, placing her feet in the familiar pose needed by her heelies. Except this time, she just made do with the soles of her boots, letting them glide over the slickened snow cover and down the duracrete hill. Wind and snow whipped past her face, but Daiya just laughed and cried out, "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Brie Jaxx​

 

[Brie Jaxx]

Brie giggled out loud at her best friends expression when she tasted the unfortunate snowflake coming from the sky and landed in the teens mouth. Sometimes, Daiya just seemed to get more than she bargained for and most of those times Brie had a blast together with her fellow shadowrunner. She jumped out of the air taxi, being less of a wild one than Daiya she also made sure they payed for the ride, before she joined her friends side in the winter wonderland that now held Denon in a firm grip.

She had been to cold planets before during her journeys through the vast galaxy, but had never seen snow like this outside the holotelevision or outside the stories of her holobooks. That said, she did own an insulated suit which she had found use for today. Combined with the black space boots, it even felt like she could have visited Hoth.

Brie watched Daiya as she tried to ski on snow with her boots, which turned out to be less of a success for the newly turned sixteen year old. It elicited yet another giggle from Brie, before Daiya continued with a tease and a challenge to catch her as she threw herself down a slope. Brie looked under her foot and noticed the packed snow under it. That gave her an idea, and before long she had produced a rather good and round snowball that she threw after Daiya. Brie then gave it a shot herself so slide down the slope, but ultimately failed the trick and with a squeal fell on her bum, continued to slide down the slippery walkway.

''I think my boots are not the best for this surface!'' she called after her friend, giggling in pure joy if her aim with the snowball had been better than the grip of her boots.

Daiya​

 

[Zo La Kund]

District 9 -- The Sty

"We lucked out," Zo began, approaching Mitch in his intermission. Mitch held up a gloved finger, continuing his weld on the developing structure, leaving Zo hanging for the moment, as Mitch had apparently underestimated the task at hand. Zo slipped his hands in his pockets and looked around the area, taking note of the growing number of residents curious about what they were up to, but lacking in direction – how to help, what to help with, and what to do now when their hastily assigned task was complete.

Mitch killed his torch and lifted his mask. "What we got?"

"We have four industrial water tanks and towers," Zo held up four fingers for emphasis. He dropped one, "Three are usable right now - City drained them when they rerouted the Sty's plumbing through their central Public Works facility, but we can –" They agreed in unison. "-Fix that."

"Yeah, no doubt…The other one will have to be sterilized. Its filter is still functional, as far as I can tell"

"And this baby'll make five," Mitch added, slapping the sliding of what would one day be another water tank, its patterns a quilt of broken swoop chassis, droid armor, and whatever sizeable chunks of scrap metal he was able to find.

"So, say we managed to fill 'em all and maybe even get another – How long you think we can stay off their grid?"

"Not really my area of expertise, but…I've heard of a 15-people commune making one of these things last 30 years. Accounting for rainfall I can't control, multiply everything by 8 billion, carry the one…"

"Oh-ho, the jokes."

Mitch shrugged. "I don't know, Zo – Maybe ten years? These things refill themselves, right? So long as everyone doesn't run out and buy a hot tub or start taking two hour showers…"

"Ten years? Really?" It was Ms. H., a local elementary school teacher from the neighborhood, each hand bearing a tin of coffee for the two men. She presented them with each, accounting, "Courtesy of Zananda -- She didn't want you two to catch cold." Ms. H was one of the early risers – Usually up and at 'em in order to deal with a horde of children in an underfunded building by this point in the morning; this snow day left her with energy to expend.

"What else we gonna catch out here? A break?," Zo laughed, sipping his coffee. "Thank you kindly, ma'am." Mitch raised his tin in support.

"Of course," she said, taking up a seat at the edge of the salvage cart. "That's amazing, though – Ten years."

"That's if we fill 'em– And barring anything else unforeseen."

"We've also got to do something about the heating…"

"They'll try warm their houses with their stoves…," Zo sighed, his life flashing before his eyes; the future of housefires so obvious when juxtaposed with the past; he dropped to his knees, sifting around the junk at the ground, the wheelbarrow in front of him, searching for an alternative.

Mitch's eyes widened, "Oh, wow – You can really taste the difference, can't you?" Mitch sideglanced at the his friend passively, taking another sip of his stimcaff, and redirected his gaze to Ms. H, "Fraid the grid'll crash?"

Zo's head flooded with images of lost people, wandering the desert, but not right now. The animal lay slain, its classification undecipherable by the violence, the ambiguous nature of dream.

They tore its antlers from its head, made weapons. Its meat from its ribs and ate well.

Its bones became tools. Its fur became coats, became armor, became waterskins.​

"…I mean, I am now , thanks– but I just mean not everyone's prepared for this sort of thing. I imagine they're mostly trapping the heat in their houses through closed doors and windows – "

Its hide, stretched and dried to become a drum.

Zo La Kund, Haruspex, plunged his hands into the guts of the beast. The tribe could not, would not, afford to waste a thing.​

Speak to me, O Muse -​

"Blankets against the cracks, " she made a hand motion like she was stuffing something, padding it down. "That goes right out the window once the kids see all this – Then it's just open and close open and close all day long…Until nightfall."

"And the temperature drops again..."

Make this little life bearable, if only for a moment.​

Zo's hand twisted gore, wrapped intestine around his finger, presented it to the tribe.​

He raised his hands up from where they were buried in what would have been a droid's ribcage.

"Oh," Mitch noted, looking to Zo. "You want to make induction heaters."

Zo blinked, the world coming back into focus. In his right hand, he was holding up a circuit board, while his left found a copper wire coiled around his index finger. "Is this anything?"

"Oh, it's something, alright– It's a start."

"Awesome -- I'll get the kids started on putting them together," Ms. H declared, hopping off the edge of the salvage cart.

"Whoah, whoah – They're kids, I don't think –"

"Please – They're all-tech now. They were rigging their own hardware before they were out of diapers."

"This isn't just complaining about their Anxiety on the holonet – This requires precision soddering work, and…"

"Well, I guess you'd better come supervise," she said with a challenge, wrapping herself against the cold and walking off toward the bonfire. She turned briefly to see if Mitch was following. "By the way, we're going to need your tools."

"I've got to finish this!"

"I got you, " Zo said, ruffling his brow. He noted Mox and crew had just rolled in, after no doubt making a bad situation worse for somebody…but not the Sty. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he whistled at them. "Yo!," he then gestured 'em over. "C'mere!"

"We ain't do chit," Kando confessed without provocation. Mox looked back at him and shook his head, "Man, you're stupid as hell." Jix just laughed.

To Zo: "What do you want?"

"How about you all help us out with this liner?," Zo gestured over at the welding work Mitch had been working on.

"HAH! Yo, kark that – How about you stop taking such a big cut when you flip our chit?"

Zo shrugged, "Yeah, you pitch in, and I can do 5 for…two weeks?"

"You can do zero!"

"Nah – Kill yourself. Gotta eat," Zo disengaged entirely, no eye contact, no nothing. This was no longer a real discussion.

"No deal, then," Mox edged in a last word, shrugging big and loud, taking a theatric step back. Kando nearly tripped on himself getting out of the way.

Zo was roped back in, "You know this benefits you, too, right?" He stood from the ground, taking a step to close the gap. "What are you going to do with that scratch anyway – Buy a new belt buckle? A big, bad 'Kark the Man' t-shirt, little raised fist on the sleeve?" Zo raised a fist, pulled a wimpy face in mockery. "Who do you think you're gonna be stunting on when you know and I know and everyone knows that, because you're from District 9, you only get to wash yourself with bourgeoise piss-water that flushes down from topcity?"

"Dream a little bigger!" A hand on Mox's shoulder, he used his other hand to paint the figurative picture before the gangbanger of this new world of opulence – "Imagine being able to go out having had a proper, clean shower, and not owing those motherkarkers a karking thing."

Mox side-eyed Zo, letting the allure of the simple things sink in. This was a luxury the Sty had not been so fortunate as to have taken for granted. "Yeah, okay – And your taking 10, because…" Because it was the right thing to do? Because it was good business to have good relationships? Because Mox was growing up a little? Because he just liked the guy? "Because."

"A wise king, if ever there was one," Zo grinned, big and dumb.

Who can be sure?

Mitch was transitioning from his work gloves to standard mittens, popping knuckles mid transition. "Again, this is a start – But we're gonna need a lot more help than this if we're going to make it work."

Zo nodded once, but on the second bob of his head, his got his face in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes, then pushing them back through his locks. "Yeah, I know – I'll think of something. Gah…"

The other two started to wander off, working their way up to getting to work, but Kando felt obliged to comment. "Y'know, those motherkarkers can't just be doing this chit -- They can't just leave us like this."

Zo paused, looking up from his hands, "Who's 'They?' I don't know a 'They.'" He dropped his hands, picking up his coffee from wherever he'd left it. "Mitch, you see a 'They'?"

Mitch, not really knowing what's going on, but playing along nonetheless. "Never heard of 'em – They got a missus?"

Zo nodded, fanning the hammer of a finger-gun. "Now, Miss Us, I know. Mr. Us, too. 'They' ain't never done chit for me, but 'Us'? –"

He raised his tin mug to Kando in a quick toast, before bringing it to his mouth for another sip.

"Yeah, you can believe in Us."

 

[Mercy]

Skeevi Merrill Doc Painless Ivory Stroud

"Ahh, I doubt I would still have the burns by the time I can shove my fingers in Alichos' face." Mercy retorted cryptically as she took over the food line with something close akin to good spirits. Maybe it was Ivory showing up. That lady was always a fun one. Sure, it complicated the job a little bit and maybe she'd have to break her skull open.

She hoped not.

It would be hard to have a drink with a dead woman.

"Mm, Stroud's?" Smiling there as she looked back up to Doc just as she passed the first bowl over to a needy citizen. "Knowing 'er, she be lookin' for openings here." A shrug. "Fun to drink with, sharp as a whip too, but there are probably like six different layers and plans running jus' underneath what she saying out loud."

All frank and easy.

Not being overly negative, but also not blowing rainbows up her arse either.

That was Mercy though. She gave relatively objective (in her perspective) views an' didn't do much lying at all. Mostly cus she wasn't great at it. It was such a tiring experience.

"Might as well go an' have a chat with her, Doc." Advise slipping past her before Mercy realized what she was doing. "That one? Good to 'ave 'er number in ya pocket in a tight spot."

Not as if she didn't have chit to do anyway.

Another bowl was passed over to another citizen. Before her focus shifted slightly on Skeevi. "Ya want a bowl, girl? Ya look thin as a reed." She poured one and put it on the edge of the table. If the girl wanted it, she'd take it... if not? It would be her own lunch. She was already getting hungry just from the smell of it.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"Ya want a bowl, girl? Ya look thin as a reed." She poured one and put it on the edge of the table. If the girl wanted it, she'd take it... if not? It would be her own lunch. She was already getting hungry just from the smell of it.

Skeevi flinched and looked up from the latest hotwired lantern/heater. They'd done their best to blend into the background. They closed the lantern's service panel to keep out any stray moisture and set it aside so they could accept the food.

Adjusting their damp blanket, theu found a new seat, one of the freshly-emptied supply crates. They nestled the bowl into their belly and dug in. The shelf-stable stew might not be expensive food, but it was a ryvving fethton better than their average dinner.

"Taa baa," they said, mouth half full. "Thanksh."

 

[Zephyrr]

Houks & Hairless Wookiees, it was blasted cold.

Gloved hands gripped the metal railing of a fire escape as a bundled figure hauled itself up - muscles straining, knuckles white beneath black gloves. Instead of his customary red hoodie, the figure wore white urban camouflage - helping him to blend in across the landscape. When Zeph had found the old clothing in the back of an old abandoned shop, he'd loved the pattern but never worn it... until the recent change in weather. He was glad he'd kept the pants & heavy coat. The wind would have cut him to ribbons; The cold and ice tore strength from the body, made it hard to run - hard to jump - hard to climb.

A leg was thrown over the top of the railing, setting down gingerly on the metal surface. Finding a steady purchase, the other leg joined it. The figure glanced back & down toward the alley below; nothing moved. His face was covered by a thin black bandana and his eyes were protected by a pair of worn goggles held together by a length of string; it was the best he could do. It would have to do.

Zephyrr walked the short distance to the low wall, reaching up and gripping the edge then hauling himself onto the roof of the old building. He went sideways, rolling over the lip and dropping into a crouch - a short drop, landing on the roof and taking a moment to survey his surroundings. He stood, booted feet crunching in the thin sheen of snow...

crunch...crunch...crunch...

He still hadn't gotten fully accustomed to the slippery surfaces and sudden, potentially lethal loss of purchase. He'd nearly stumbled attempting a sprint earlier in the day and fell nearly five stories. An old antenna had saved him; not that it had held. But it'd given him a moment to correct his mistake.

The going was slower now... but he wasn't in much of a hurry. District 9 was completely covered in ice & snow. Whoever was waiting could wait.
The young man wasn't getting paid for speed. This time.

The equipment which would often rattle into motion, producing air-conditioning or heating for numerous residents below, were silent. It seemed like much of the City had shut down completely with the sudden change in weather; people were cold. Hungry. Tired. Angry. He'd even heard whispers that some people were blaming CorpSec.

Nearly a week ago now, there had been a massive riot inside Sakedo Tower - it had been broadcast everywhere: Images of CorpSec beating protesters, images of Protesters beating CorpSec. The news hadn't been able to censor as much of the violence as they would have if they'd had control. Whomever the shadowy group of rebels were, they'd managed to hijack numerous feeds. Zephyrr had watched the event unfold through a stream on CryptNet. Secretly, he'd wished he'd been there...

But then again, he was also not stupid. CorpSec was bad enough on a day when their authority wasn't being questioned.

The young man crossed the rooftop and climbed the edge of the building on the opposite side - perching, for a moment, to look out across a wide-open space. The masked figure watched as two brightly-colored shapes played in the snow below. Behind his mask, the young man couldn't help but smile. At least someone was having fun.

Daiya Brie Jaxx

 

[Doc Painless]

For someone who'd almost refused it outright, Mercy was pretty good at the whole charity food distribution shtick.

The Doc wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She was obviously dangerous, more than capable of handling herself, and clearly quite the mercenary; she didn't flinch at getting done whatever her employer wanted done, even something as unusual for a hired gun as this giveaway, but she openly talked about the time when her current boss wouldn't be her boss anymore. She had the calm confidence of someone who was either really good at this or thought they were, but she didn't seem like an inexperienced braggart to him, which left only the one possibility: she was deadly earnest. The street medic quietly reminded himself not to get on her bad side.

What she said about Stroud only confirmed the Doc's suspicions: the woman was the kind of person who had all sorts of reasons he couldn't currently see for getting involved in this little humanitarian event. But what did the Coruscani mob want with a rough part of Denon? Impossible to say without talking to her, and probably impossible to guess if she had even a decent sabacc face. Well, only one way to find out. The Doc offered Mercy a smile and a nod. "I think I'll do that. Thank you for your help. I appreciate it, and so will all these people." He swept out an arm to indicate the growing food line, full of folks already bundled up in their free blankets.

They were doing a good thing. He just hoped that it wouldn't end up subverted to sell guns or spice.

When the Doc looked over at Skeevi, though, he decided it didn't really matter. The kid was digging into their soup bowl with gusto, probably the best meal they'd had in a hell of a long time. Hopefully they'd be able to buy some more decent food with the credits he'd give them for the lantern modifications. That image right there proved that, even if underworld business did pass through this tent, there was more good than harm going on here today. The Doc needed literally clean hands for surgery, but he could be more lax about figuratively clean hands. As long as good, ordinary people were being helped, he wasn't worried about legality or whose pockets got lined.

Which led him back to the question of Ivory Stroud. There was a lull in the frostbite meds line, so the Doc took the opportunity to slip away. He pushed open the tent flap with his elbow, a mug of hot caf in each mechanical hand, and strolled up beside the crime boss. He didn't let any nerves show as he approached, kept his cool as he offered her one of the mugs. He'd dealt with powerful criminals before, and he knew better than to look vulnerable around the kind of people who might pounce on that. "Thanks for pitching in," he said conversationally, toasting her with his cup before taking a quick swig. The liquid warmed him on its way down, fighting the outdoor chill.

"I hear you're from Coreward of here," he told her, smiling disarmingly. "What brings you to Denon?"

And why come laden with such gifts for strangers? he wanted to ask. But he could be patient.

Skeevi Merrill | Mercy | Ivory Stroud​

 

[Mercy]

Skeevi Merrill Doc Painless Ivory Stroud

"Yeah, yeah, don't forget ya owe me those drinks." Drawled lazily and only mildly nonchalant. Truth to be told Mercy felt uncomfortable This wasn't exactly her wheelhouse.

Those grateful faces staring up at her?

She had to suppress a shudder.

Just felt karking weird. What even was that feeling in her chest? A certain tightness and warmth. Maybe she was getting sick? That seemed impossible since she had never been sick a day in her life. Nothing else came to mind though. Once Doc left the tent her attention shifted again towards Skeevi munching down on the stew.

"Dun' worry about it." Mercy muttered as she poured in another bowl for another grateful sentient. "I was small once too." 'Small' was a matter of perspective.

Even when she was small Mercy had been big.

But she felt small and that was worse.

"It karking sucks. But... won't always be the case, trust me." What the kark was she doing? And why? This was so weird. Mercy wanted to punch something to get... something back. As if she gave something away that made her feel comfortable and secure.

 

[Daiya]

Booted feet skittered down the ramped incline, arms windmilling to keep her balance. Daiya sped past shops and parked speeders, which became a whirl of light and color as she focused desperately to keep her balance. Laughter rang from her lips nonetheless, the adrenaline rush fueling her merry challenge to the snowy around her. Nothing could stop the teen as she raced toward the flattened landing below.

Cold exploded against her skull as the snowball hit.

Daiya shrieked, her arms wheeling even more in their panic to stay upright. Yet nothing could stop the inevitable now, she careened backward and hit the cold slop. Snow and slush soaked into the seat of her pants, her feet flopping up for a moment until the rest of her came to a halt against the snow-covered walkway.

So close.

"Brie!" Daiya shouted, knowing only one person with aim that attuned to improvised weaponry like this. It took effort to get herself up into a seated position, the snow sucked her in with its crystalline embrace and pillowy comfort. The young shadowrunner could have laid in that snow all day, but first she had to pay back a friend. Her hands were freezing by the time she scooped up enough snow, packing it with fingers that were dripping wet from the snowmelt, poised so long to aim that her palms started to burn. "I'm gonna get you, you scrappy punk!"

She flung the snowball towards her target, not certain if her aim or pitch was as reliable in these conditions, then wiped her hands dry on her pants. The teen was up on her knees now, working quickly to pull on the mittens she'd brought with. There was a battle to fight and ammo to assemble!

The young shadowrunner looked up again, gauging Brie's distance. She missed the scrapper girl at first, her eyes scouring the horizon above her. They glanced up at one point to find someone watching them from above, legs dangling over the side of a building. She smirked at the thought, her mind back on her immediate landscape. Her face earned a satisfied grin as she spotted Brie again on her way down the hill, and bounced one finished snowball in her mittened hand.

"You're going down, girl..."

She threw.

Brie Jaxx Zephyrr​

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"It karking sucks. But... won't always be the case, trust me."

That felt oddly heartening — odd because Skeevi had never really considered becoming Big And Strong Less Weak. They had dreams, sure, but street kid life allowed for little in the way of long-term aspiration. Thinking beyond that always intimidated them, felt impossible — until just now.

They wolfed down the last of the soup and stuffed the bowl and spoon in their shoulder bag.

"Thanks again for the food," they said quietly, and headed back over to Doc Painless

"Got four lanterns turned to heaters but I need to get home." The credits, if he paid up, would cover various necessities and also the train back to Volgho Hollows in Seven Corners. They had a quiet little den there, a safe dry spot.

 

[Ivory Stroud]

Doc Painless

As the Doctor exited the tent into the cold air, Ivory was in the process of offering a steaming cup of hot cafe to an elderly woman bundled up against the wintery world. To one side of the tent, her own people had assembled a small line of boxes filled with gloves and hats; all new. One of her people, the singular Zeltron who was likewise dressed in white, black, and gray, was offering hand warmers and hot cafe to anyone he could. He didn't act like a gangster - in fact, he seemed like he was in his element.

Ivory turned to regard the Doctor with a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She accepted the hot drink graciously, blowing on it. She returned the toast gingerly, careful not to spill.

"I hear you're from Coreward of here," he told her, smiling disarmingly. "What brings you to Denon?

His question had been expected. The Donna, singularly, had been making some waves of her own on Denon for a few weeks now; some louder than others.

She expected, eventually, someone would ask why. She returned the Doctor's smile, easily matching his conversational tone:

"Coruscant, yes. I'm a city girl." Ivory let out a musical laugh, her breath transforming into steam as it struck the cold air. "Outside of CorpSec, it's not much different. Big city, lots of people... The poor get poorer and the rich get richer."

She paused for a moment to watch a little girl walk up to the Zeltron Family member and sheepishly take a pair of mittens from his outstretched hand. She gave him a glowing smile - unfamiliar with such kindness - and back away, turning her back and racing back toward the tent and a woman who was clearly her mother. The woman knelt, sharing a word with her daughter, then flashing a smile of her own.

"My Family and I are here on business... But I have more personal reasons." Ivory spoke, turning to look at the Doctor. She took a sip from her cup, then continued; She could either read minds, or she knew the unspoken question. "These people need more help than what a group like Darkwire can provide. CorpSec has a Monopoly on everything in this city... Except compassion."

Perhaps The Family was not as altruistic as they seemed on the surface, but her words sounded genuine.

What the Doctor might not know, of course, was that The Family operated this way; influencing poorer neighborhoods and insinuating themselves into places where their own values could grow.

She seemed willing to say more, but eyes and ears were everywhere. He'd just have to ask more questions.

 

[Doc Painless]

"Sure," the street medic told Mercy. "Look me up, and I'll buy."

As the Doc was on his way out, Skeevi swept up beside him, so quiet he didn't realize they were even there until they spoke. He jumped a little at the sound of their voice, surprised, though he supposed he should have seen this coming; Denon street kids survived by going unnoticed whenever they could. So he just smiled at Skeevi, carefully steering away from saying or doing anything that might feel patronizing. "Thank you," he told them. "That will be a big help." Fishing around in the pocket of his duster, he found the money he'd promised, counting out a hundred and twenty credits. Almost enough to buy a brand new fusion lantern. Definitely enough for train fare and decent food.

"Be safe," he told Skeevi, more a benediction than an order. "Come see me if you need anything."

He was trying to respect the kid's independence and dignity while offering her all the help he possibly could.

The Doc's mind turned in an entirely different direction as he approached Ivory, listening to what the Donna had to say for herself. Skeevi had been right; the woman was Core Worlds money, straight from the gleaming center of the civilized galaxy itself - Coruscant. At least, that was what the planet had been. So many wars had been fought over it in the past forty years that its luster had dimmed somewhat, a jewel scratched up and dropped in the muck. What brought Stroud here, then, to another city-world with a very different history? What had drawn her from the center of galactic democracy out to this hyper-corporatized hellscape? Was it money? Power? What did she hope to gain?

Maybe he was being too cynical. For gangsters, her bodyguards did seem pretty comfortable with charity work.

But on Denon, there was very rarely such a thing as too cynical.

"Who said anything about Darkwire?" the Doc replied, flashing her a knowing smile as he took a sip of his caf. "Just a grassroots community effort here. Locals looking after locals. I'm sure terrorists wouldn't get involved with something like that." It hadn't been long since good ol' Starlight had gone public with her condemnation of Darkwire, branding it a terror organization and pledging to hunt down ever last member. For the Doc, that hadn't been much of a change; he'd already been among Denon's most wanted, sought in connection with the murder of DireX Xopsaloff. But now the hunt was in the public eye. Starlight had staked her reputation on it.

That meant attention from CorpSec was likely to get very intense, very quickly.

And that Darkwire and the people around them really didn't need someone else's heat on top of that.

"Not unless they had ulterior motives, anyway," the Doc continued, his face carefully kept neutral. "Sometimes people like that, or like Alichos's syndicate, use charity to get people on their side. They win the locals over so that folks won't snitch on their operations, and they usually do it right before they start something big. New smuggling route, nearby safehouse, fencing stolen goods locally..." He shrugged. "It's none of my business, really. I'm no fan of CorpSec or CAD's laws. But if it brings down heat on the locals, gets them hurt for some syndicate's profits..." He looked Ivory straight in the eyes. "That I have a problem with."

The Doc smiled again, shrugging apologetically. "But I'm sure your business here is nothing like that."

Skeevi Merrill | Mercy | Ivory Stroud​

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

So he just smiled at Skeevi, carefully steering away from saying or doing anything that might feel patronizing. "Thank you," he told them. "That will be a big help." Fishing around in the pocket of his duster, he found the money he'd promised, counting out a hundred and twenty credits. Almost enough to buy a brand new fusion lantern. Definitely enough for train fare and decent food.

"Be safe," he told Skeevi, more a benediction than an order. "Come see me if you need anything."

He was trying to respect the kid's independence and dignity while offering her all the help he possibly could.

Not an easy line to walk, and Skeevi knew a few who could walk it that well. Aid workers, mostly, the kind that weren't in it to feel good about themselves (or because CAD-backed corporate social responsibility 'nonprofits' tended to be a back pasture for disfavored corpos). Skeevi accepted their credits and offered Doc Painless a tentative smile.

They ducked away, out of the tents and alleys, back into the snow. The blanket made a great wrap even if the bottom edges dangled in the grimy slush.

A few blocks' walk took Skeevi to the hover train. The cash bought a ticket to Seven Corners, good enough for a transfer to the Volgho Hollows neighborhood. If all went well, they'd be home within two hours.

 

[Ivory Stroud]

Doc Painless

She had to give the man credit. She'd spent enough time on Denon, by now, to understand that in some ways, Denon was very different from Coruscant. For one thing, almost everybody she'd met on Denon, at least the ones affiliated with Darkwire or working against the Corpo Regime, were adept at double-speak & masterful tacticians. Ivory flashed the Doc a knowing smile as well - conceding that, perhaps, Darkwire wasn't directly involved in this small Community Outreach project... but their motives were similar to her own. She was, however, a new player to a conflict which had been brewing longer than she knew.

She had the luxury of money & power of her own; she was able, and potentially even willing, to ply her trade and work against the Corpo Regime in her own way. Rather than portraying herself as "just another Mafioso thug", Ivory decided to alter her approach.

The Doc smiled again, shrugging apologetically. "But I'm sure your business here is nothing like that."

She smiled at him, her face softening as she turned to face him directly. They were eye-to-eye and she was careful to keep her cup of coffee from resting between them; the shift in body language subtle, but showing that, at least in that moment, she wasn't hiding behind her words. "I spent my younger years on planets not much different than Denon. The controlling powers wore different uniforms... carried different weapons, but they spoke the same language. Wielded power with an iron fist, and crushed anyone who stood against them. What I meant by, personal reasons? I have a... distasteful outlook on those who hurt the innocent. I don't like bullies, Doctor."

She took a sip of her cafe, cast a glance over toward one of her other people, behind the Doctor; toward the Gammorean soldier she'd brought with her. The brute, as ugly as he was, was inspecting a tiny flower growing up from a patch of ground not completely covered by ice and snow. Her violet eyes, direct and confident, returned to meet the Doctor's own.

"When I was younger, I helped to bring people together on those worlds... Unite them, give them hope. Give them strength. My Family isn't here to bring heat down on anyone... nor are we here to take anything from them." She was clearly speaking about the so-called class of "Discreets" and the civilian population of Denon. "In fact, if Hope were a thing I could give out freely, I would have brought some with me. But, some free supplies and protection will have to do."

She smiled at him. "I can promise you this, Doctor: No violence will befall these people, so long as The Family is present. My people are, to a sentient, masters of discretion. And, when this storm passes..." She could have been speaking, at that moment, both of the current change in environment as well as Darkwire's own recent change in status, "You may find us far more agreeable than the Hutts or The Black Tie Syndicate."

"Now... a question of my own, if I may." Ivory finished her cup of cafe, tucking the depleted cup into a pocket of her coat to avoid further littering. "I'm curious where I might find the Environmental Control systems for District 9. One of my people is particularly skilled in mechanics, and there doesn't seem to be anyone actively able to fix this current problem. I'd like to see if The Family can help. Where would I start?"