[ OPEN / CATCH-ALL ]

[ct_7567]

WHO: Rex - brainwashed into being a good government enforcer - and YOU.
WHERE: Throughout the City
WHEN: Throughout the event!
WHAT: Rex's chip malfunctions a little, he does his job by stamping out those pesky rebels, and then he does a lot of lingering around.
WARNINGS: Violence, death. If you'd like something or to plot something (hey, if you need your character caught, killed, or otherwise injured by a government enforcer, he's your man!), feel free to PM me or contact me on plurk @ wisdombitch.



A: GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS. (A GLITCH).

[ Rex is, at this point, a relatively well known government enforcer. In full armour, he's been known to lead dozens upon dozens of successful raids, capturing rebellious metas, storming their bases in the dead of night, blasters a blazing and loud, imperious voice the herald of many a man's doom - or worse, their switch to the other side. He's gained his fair share of medals for it too, though little emotion seems to cross his face whenever it's been televised.

Sometimes, though, it's in need of some extra enforcement. He'd just cracked down on some people spraying graffiti on the walls and they're seen being carted away by a government vehicle when Rex, helmet off, pauses. A muscle in his cheek jumps. His pupils dilate, his eyes roll. His shoulders shudder as he takes a step towards the car, and then freezes in place as the petty criminals inside shout and bang on the windows of the vehicle. ]

Good soldiers follow orders, [ he mutters like a mantra, again and again, lips twisted, then slack. ] Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders.

[ None of the other agents seem to pay him any mind. This is, it seems, not an uncommon affair. ]

B: ENFORCEMENT.

[ But when he's not in throes of his chip re-asserting control, he is, after all, the perfect soldier. If you're a fellow government enforcer you may well be in his team as he strides up and down the briefing room, giving orders and planning strategies with severity and brutality.

Or, of course, you could be a rebel. Your base could be stormed by men in armour, Rex leading the fray, blasters akimbo, or perhaps you'll come home to your base being rummaged through. Maybe you've even been caught on the street, primed for rebellion. Be careful - Rex's orders are to take who he can alive, but if they resist, he doesn't hesitate to kill them in the street. He's done it before. He's been rewarded for it before.

Don't take it personally. He's only following orders. ]

C: ANYONE HOME? (NO).

[ But the thing about brainwashing of this caliber means that what would remain of Rex's personal life has suffered. There is little joy to be had in the humble things in life he used to embrace, nothing to do in his off-hours, any re-emergence of who he once was bitter and painful. There's a part of him that knows what's happening, that's beating at the edges of his skull for freedom, but it's as though he simply can't get his body to do it.

It's an eerie thing, seeing him during his time-off. More than anything, he seems to stand at the side of the street, staring unblinkingly, idle and waiting, nothing there. He needs some reprieve. Some orders. Anything else is little more than nothingness. ]

D: WILDCARD.

[ You know the drill! If you want anything else, feel free to toss up your own top-level, ask me for one, etc., etc. ]

Comments

2

[bestest_ladle]

[ooooh.

it's him.

meeth knows it is important to choose your battles. meeth knows that is especially true right now, with all the new metas coming in from the other world all dazed and confused with no hope but from people like her, resistance fighters who will get them away before they can be turned into little golem soldiers.

but this is different. this... is Rex. Offender Number One on her long list of grudgies.

She summons her urn as soon as she sees him with his little goon squad and jumps inside of it. It takes a lot of restraint not to yell and give the game away--there is only the sound of something rolling very fast right towards his knees. with that armor on he is perfectly cast as the pins to her role as a malicious bowling ball.]

[ct_7567]

[ As far as Rex is concerned, Meeth got lucky. And by lucky, he means that she's too short for him to have seen her coming straightaway and after a certain period of living here on Earth, he's forgotten all about how irritating humanoids of a specific size could be. They'll go for the knees, the little devils. In this case, it's one little devil in particular that sends him reeling backwards, helmeted head smacking against the wall behind him as he shoots his hands back to catch his fall. His gloves scrape against the wall with an awful sound of plastoid on brick and he utters a vicious curse. This isn't the sort of behaviour he can get away with from his post. ]

If you just come with me quietly, [ he snarls, ] this will be much easier on you.

[bestest_ladle]

[yeah you'd like that wouldn't you rex? SHE KNOWS YOU JUST WANT TO STUFF HER IN THE URN AND PUNT HER OFF A CLIFF, WELL, SHE'S NOT FALLING FOR THAT A SECOND TIME.

she bursts out of the urn, which vanishes back to wherever it goes, and brandishes her ladle]

Not. A. Chancie.

[she wallops one of his squad, and you wouldn't think a ladle would have that much impact, but it leaves the man dazed for a few seconds.]

This is it for you, Rexie!

[ct_7567]

[ That's not his name. That's a diminuitive that would have bothered him, once, but he doesn't bother gracing it with an answer. It's easier for his betters to refer to him as Rex, but those who have the most power over him have no problem simply calling him CT-7567.

This one's irritating for a whole slew of other reasons. At least it's familiar, in its own way. He's used to being out of his depth with those who clearly aren't of his species. ]

Not with such a primitive weapon. [ And with that, he aims his blaster and fires. It's not a glamorous rejoinder, but it tends to be an effective one. ]

A

[rebelarrow]

[Typically this was below Judd's metaphorical paygrade--his "talents" were typically warranted for more high profile captures. But it had been a slow night, and they had sent him out regardless. The part of him he had buried in his artificially recreated Silence was glad they had the moment he saw one of the enforcers begin to twitch.

Stepping out of formation, his black boots crunching something that sounded like glass beneath his heel, he stares icily at the others.]

Get them back. We'll get back on our own.

[He left no room for argument, grabbing Rex by his arm and leading him away from the others. As he did, he quickly threw up a shield around the two of them, one he'd been working on for years. Effectively, it was the psychic equivalent of putting security footage on a loop--any of the psychic higher-ups sending out a scan would see nothing abnormal about what was going on right now.

If only it didn't take significant amounts of his psychic restores to retain, he'd have managed to free himself years ago.]

I can shut that chip down--but I'm afraid I cannot do it for long. Is that acceptable?

[Judd isn't expecting a verbal answer. Not when his telepathy is as strong as it is.]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex continues muttering even as he's dragged away. It's a horrible thing, this chip. Every time he thinks he's doing this of his own volition, every time he's managed to sink into his role with some sense of clarity, it's like this happens again. He'd gladly follow whatever orders he's given, a part of him thinks distantly, if it will just get the damn thing to shut up already. Silence would be such a sweet balm.

Which means that even if he wouldn't typically trust a stranger, it only takes looking at him for a moment, thin mouth twisted, brows furrowed as he feels that familiar stabbing pain in his temple for him to make the decision to trust him. He nods sharply. Please. ]

[rebelarrow]

[With no further probing needed, he quickly locates and throws a shield around the chip, essentially blocking the signals for the time being to the rest of the brain.

A woefully temporary fix.]

Can you think for yourself?

C

[walkontwolegs]

[ The good thing about getting to this world near the start of the day the porter came on was that she was not identified before she was sent out a side exit. She could easily exist in public without anyone recognising her, and all it took was a change of clothes to blend in. That said, being new to this world, she had no idea who this man was when she happened to see him on the street, and all it took was seeing the look on his face for her to get concerned. Sometimes her brother had a similar look on his face after being around their mother - she couldn't help worrying.

So with very little hesitation she walked over to him. ]

Sir? Are you alright?

[ Her voice was soft, and filled with the type of concern that children best excelled at. ]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex looks down at the small figure in front of him. It takes him a moment to register that she's even there as he blinks blearily down at her, slowly making sense of the fact that she's speaking to him. People generally don't anymore, not unless they're directly under his command, or if they're in command over him - or, of course, if they're trying to kill them. Then they come up with a great deal of creative ways to call him a number of names, none of which seem to bother him as much as they ought to. ]

Yes, [ he says stiffly. ] I'm fine.

[ She's alone. That's... unusual. ]

Are you lost?

[walkontwolegs]

[ She quickly shakes her head. ]

Oh, no sir. I'm on my way home.

[ This was technically a lie, but she had been on her way to where she was staying. It was close enough to the truth that she didn't think it enough of a lie for it to bother her and make her anxious. ]

I'm sorry I bothered you, it's just that you looked... [ How was she supposed to describe it? Her brother hadn't looked sad, not anymore, and it wasn't quite scared, either. It took her a moment of thought before she finally found a word that seemed close. ] Lost? But not the type of lost where you don't know where you are.

[ Maybe that wasn't the word she would have normally used, and that without him having asked her she wouldn't have thought of it, but it seemed as good a fit as any. ]

b FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

[h2no]

[archie's luck is as good as it usually is. which is to say it's... really bad. he was never particularly good at hiding his true nature, so the fact he even made it this long is a miracle. he even has the audacity to be surprised when he creeps back to his little abode to find it's caught the wrong attention.

luckily he has his pokéballs with him, honestly. they'd be confiscated right off, being the only part of him that's actually worth attention.

...not that the beasts within the balls wouldn't release themselves and tear any troopers to pieces, or anything. they've done it before.

guess that home isn't good anymore. he'll have to abandon again. hard, but not impossible. he leaves.



...archie's luck is as good as it usually is. he catches his foot on some debris that he'd scattered around himself to make the place look more abandoned, and he goes face-first into a bin.

it's fine.

they probably didn't notice that.]

[ct_7567]

Clear it out, boys. No dawdling. I'll be able to tell.

[ Rex, for his part, is striding around the abode, watching as his men tear the place to pieces. Drawers are being tossed out and rifled through, couch cushions torn off and ripped apart as they search for any contraband, some of the men even walking around knocking against the walls, looking for any secret compartments. They're a well trained lot, and they won't stop until the place has been well and truly ransacked. He points out places that others have missed, barking out orders here and there and has just stepped out to scan the perimeter once more when he hears the telltale thump of someone there.

He goes up to the bin and sees -- well, enemy number one would be pushing it. Enemy number fifteen, maybe. He looks down at Archie - who may well recognize his face; he's feared among the resistance less for what he can do and more for what he commands - and then, without much fanfare, slams the lid on the bin. ]

[h2no]

[enemy number one would definitely be pushing it. archie isn't as into the rebel thing as he once was-- he's started to focus more and more on his own survival, though that doesn't change his stance and the crimes of his past.

he recognises rex-- and it's immediately obvious he does. who doesn't know this dude?

archie fully expects for rex to unceremoniously shoot him in the head. it's... almost worse, what he does?

rex knows he's there, so there's no point pretending. he stands up and pushes the lid open.]

So much for that professionalism you're known for...

B

[codeofiron]

[The problem (or, well, one of the problems that helps lead to the rest of them) with having run after initially going along with the government, is that even if you get rid of the tracker, they have your face. And cameras everywhere. People, Brandon can hide from, using his power to make himself unnoticed. But the cameras are more difficult, especially in a city he's unfamiliar with.

And right now, he's not in much shape to hide from anything. Brandon stands at the end of an alley, cautiously look out onto the main street. He's gripping his left arm with his right hand. The black of his coat makes it hard to see the blood that's seeping into it.

He needs resources, or someplace safe to rest. From how the day has gone so far, he doubts he's going to find either.]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex knows that there are newcomers here. There haven't been for some time, and it doesn't make things difficult per se, but it makes things complicated. These people just don't know the way of this place. In another world, he would consider this to be a grave injustice, to be flung in here without warning, without any knowledge, but his job is to process all of them.

That doesn't have to be a bad thing. It doesn't even have to be difficult, not unless they make it difficult. But a familiar face comes striding towards Brandon, prim and proper, no recognition crossing his face. ]

Citizen, [ he says curtly, not yet noticing the blood seeping into his coat. ] Hold out your right wrist.

[codeofiron]

[It's Rex.

Theoretically, it could be another clone. But that's Rex's hair, Rex's particular tone and bearing when he's being official. It has to be him.

But his being official doesn't make sense. Brandon's not in a state, right now, to immediately put together that this could be a different Rex, brought here at a different time. Instead, he stands there dumbly, staring at the other man. Not offering his wrist.]

A

[killtime]

[ She's been tracking this unit of enforcers for a week now. But not for the resistance. Not really. Even though she's been working with their forces for a while now — hell, even risen through the ranks, as much as they exist — the others don't really trust her. They know she's not there for them. For the cause. Her reasons are her own. Her priorities are her own. And she's made it a frustrating habit to go off on her own, permission be damned. Times like this, only Andy knows where Andy goes. Or what she's looking for.

Dressed in all black, she blends into the shadows of the adjacent alley as the enforcers haul away a handful of poor fucks for petty crimes. If she were here for the resistance, this would be the moment to step in — to save said poor fucks and make a point while doing it. Break some kneecaps while she's at it. But she isn't, and she doesn't. She waits. Bides her time until most of the government dogs are busy shoving their prisoners into the transport. Most of them.

There's still one. Lagging behind the others. Muttering to himself.

He's the reason. That's why she's here.

It's risky as all hell. But she doesn't give a shit about that. Nothing that happens to her now can hurt as bad as what she's already lost. She doesn't hesitate — she moves, quick as a snake, taking advantage of the man's dazed state and her all-too-intimate knowledge of him to strike. She shoves her boot into the back of his knee, breaking his balance so that she can get an arm around his throat and a hand over his mouth as she forcibly drags him back into the alley with her. ]

[ct_7567]

[ Rex cries out, but his cries are muffled by Andy's hands, and the soldiers are too used to his mutters, used to even him trying to stifle them with the palm of his hand, desperate to make them stop, to bat an eye. Nobody would guess that Andy could drag a man of Rex's size away just looking at them, but she's always been impressively strong. It used to be something that Rex admires about her.

It's not something he admires about her anymore. He doesn't think about her anymore. He can't. Every time he does, it's like his brain starts buzzing, the ache setting in as if the torture he'd gone through had been just yesterday. He tried at first, tried like the devil to keep her in his heart and his mind, to fight against this, but it grew too painful for even him. It just put him in throes of misery, led him back to that chair, back to that Sith saying, sighing, here we are again, Rex.

But when he fights to get away from his assailant, elbow sharply jabbing backwards, foot slamming back as well to try to bash against her ankles, he can't deny who's in front of him. His hands still, just for a moment. ]

Andromache.

[ It's not clear what his tone is. Angry, perhaps. Shocked. Distraught. For an instant, everything stops, a remnant of himself begging him not to fight her, but the rest of him knows how this will end.

This stillness won't last for long. And both of them will be shooting to kill. ]

[killtime]

[ She's lucky to have pressed the element of surprise as far as she did — long enough to get a bit of distance between them and an entire squad of enforcers just waiting to be a pain in her ass — but it's hard to linger on the small victories when they're so short-fucking-lived. Andy hisses out a breath as his vicious little kick throws her off balance, his elbow no more than a few centimeters from giving her a black eye. Exceptional muscle memory is what keeps her on both feet, every inch of her body tense with the effort —

But he doesn't push his advantage. He just stands there, tense and still.

And then he says her name. Her real name —

Fuck. Her heart clenches hard enough to hurt. Enough that for a split second she thinks maybe she doesn't want to do this after all — she could just turn right back around and avoid facing this. But it's a fleeting impulse. Instead, she steadies her stance, her weight settled into her boots, slightly leaned into the balls of her feet. This only ends one of two ways. Only one of them can win.

She still loves him. Even now. But she's not so fucking naive to think that love changes anything. It only makes it harder to do what needs to be done.

With a grim wryness: ]

Miss me?

[ That's all the warning there is before she's lunging at him, quick as a viper, channeling all her strength through the core of her body as she closes the gap with a flurry of relentless kicks designed to press him back, force him on the defensive. ]

c-ish

[darkov]

[the latest crackdown in this run-down section of town made a stir, considering all the new metas out and about, lashing out without regard to the consequences to those already here -- and those hidden.

several rattling impacts have ruined the safety that the thing that used to be called Martin had found, with sewer pipes and water mains ruptured and threatening to drown him or outright wash him out to the bay. it's why Rex's empty downtime is interrupted by heavy concrete and metal being disturbed in the fenced-off lot of a felled building that had lain dormant for many months since its destruction.

discretion isn't easy when one isn't wholly aware of the state of one's body...or how much or how little effort is needed to push debris out of the way to get through and climb out into the open air, so he's making a bit of ruckus getting there, climbing up bent girders and slabs of cement until he can breathe freely, squinting even with only the glow of distant streetlights and the moon above as light. even that much takes adjusting to, given how long he's been in the pitch and stifling dark.

breathing too deeply gets bile caught in his throat and sets off a fit of hacking, noisy and incessant, needing all his attention.

gotta spit it all out, after all. or he'll be...not so well off. that was the old rule.]

[ct_7567]

[ Martin was a tricky one.

Rex's trainer - torturer - had said that to him once. The boy, he'd said. Why are you always so stuck on the boy? It had been one of the two things he'd used to keep him himself during those long months away. In the end, it had seemed safer not to mention Martin to anyone, not even think about him, hope that he can get away with a clean escape with Andy. Run far from here. Live a peaceful life of their own. That had lasted as long as Rex had attended a briefing, with his betters speaking of one Martin Darkov, a being of impressive and frightening powers that could be beneficial to their entire force, if he could be captured and studied.

Rex remembers launching himself across the room with a mighty scream, though it had been long since he'd been trained into a good, obedient soldier. And then there had been chaos, electricity rippling through his body. And then there had been nothing. Not until he woke up strapped to that chair again.

They hadn't mentioned Martin since then. If Rex had been capable of thinking of Martin, perhaps he'd think, hope that that meant that he escaped unscathed. And then he sees him. ]

Martin Darkov, [ he calls out, tone stern and demanding. Why, he couldn't say. Only that the voice in his head told him so. Detach from your past life. Those who do not obey are not worth respecting. Good soldiers follow orders. ]

[darkov]

[the call scares him to the core, and Martin freezes up mid-wheeze, eyes watering against the pain in his throat. when nothing immediately follows, he can start to look around, his eyes glinting when they catch stray light.

his name? hearing his name aloud is surreal of late, and it stirs up lots of things he's buried far under all the miseries that have built up since his family was broken apart. were he to think of them, he could only think how disgusted and ashamed they'd be of him, that they'd turn away in revulsion...call out, with such a harsh tone.

that voice is familiar.

with his breath held, he stills at the sight of the black-and-white shape standing starkly not too far away. slowly, a shaky breath leaves him so he can tense up, brace for...for something.

he ought to run, he thinks. it might be best to run.]

C.

[flightforfreedom]

[ Poe has not fared much better. Brainwashed and then reeducated over and over again, Poe's memory is in fragments. He's no longer fit for any kind of command, though he's still efficient and dutiful in his work.

It just turns out that his work keeps throwing him into situations that cause a relapse, and he has to be hauled back to reeducation again. He always apologizes after. Every time. Sorry Rex, I don't know what came over me. It's honest, because he never remembers once they're done with him.

But there are vestiges of him, left. When it comes to Rex. When it comes to 622. Fragments of the man he once was, now relegated to these few, precise instances.

Which is why he's calling out to Rex now as he walks over - one of the few attempts at active social interaction he makes, these days. ]

Captain - Captain! Rex! You with us?

[ct_7567]

[ Rex blinks the fog away once he hears his voice being called out. That usually just means that somebody needs his attention, either to ask for directions or for him to be given directions. Nobody talks to him simply to talk to him these days. Whenever he's not on-duty, he spends his life in a cloud of silence, save for a few individuals they've allowed him to keep in his company, things that tether him to their cause, help along the tinkering they've done in his brain so that he can serve them with the gumption that they require.

Poe is one of those people, but even so, they seldom have time for something like idle chatter. He turns to him, some concern written across his face - was he caught being too idle? did they need him for something? will this be cause for further fine-tuning? - and looks Poe over. ]

Yes -- yes, lieutenant. Did you need something?

[flightforfreedom]

Just figured I'd volunteer to share patrol duty with you tonight, sir.

[ He needed an excuse. Life was work, after all, and even social interaction needed a backdrop of utility. ]

But you seemed a little somewhere else. Everything okay?