Captain Rex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ct_7567) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capencowl20202020-01-19 02:27 pm
ct_7567) wrote in capencowl20202020-01-19 02:27 pm
Entry tags:
[ OPEN / CATCH-ALL ]
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. ]
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. ]
no subject
[ It comes swiftly, certainly. It happens like that sometimes. Getting stuck in loops. Always the damned loops. And at first he thinks that's all it is, that he's been unjammed, and that's some solace in and of itself. Quiet. Blessed quiet. How long has it been? It's almost as though he can't remember not feeling that way.
And then, just as quickly, he realizes that he can remember, and that's a heavier blow, heavy enough that he nearly staggers beneath the weight of it. Everything he's done, the life he'd left behind, little gods, his family, his brother -- ]
Yes, [ he croaks, pressing one hand to his forehead. ] Fuck. [ Suddenly desperate, he looks up at Judd. ] What did you do? Is it permanent?
[ Please, god, let it be permanent. ]
no subject
I'm sorry. If it was just a matter of raising a layer of shielding around the chip, I could hold it for much longer. But I'm also hiding this from our "employers."
But I'll hold it for as long as I can.
no subject
This isn't me, [ he says, even though he knows the man knows that already, or else he wouldn't be helping him. But all this time, he's been desperate to say that to someone, for anyone to understand that his actions aren't his own. His voice is low, ragged. ] I don't want to be doing this. I don't...
[ He shakes his head. ]
Why are you doing this? Why are you here?
no subject
Years working for the City have not improved that.
It isn't until he sees the way Rex is looking at him now does he realize he might have made the wrong call. Not that he's in any danger of being exposed, but that perhaps this isn't the kindness he thought it was.]
I'm here because I have to be, just like you. My leash is only slightly looser, and that's because they don't fully understand the extent of my abilities. [Or that he'd been spending the vast majority of his life discreetly bucking tyrants like them.]
...I can look inside your mind and see if I can deactivate the chip for good.
A spur of the moment offer brought on by the expression on the other man's face. It might not work. More than likely he'll flame out in the attempt and lose his psychic abilities, and then his physical faculties, for 24 hours. But it's genuine.
The only catch is that if the roles were reversed, there wasn't a chance in hell he'd let a stranger into his mind.
no subject
[ He says it with an immediacy that would shame him otherwise. It makes him look weak. Desperate.
Well, he is weak and desperate. That's what he's been reduced to in this place, at this time. Any thoughts of how loose this man's leash is, what his motivations may be, the idea that he may be a spy sent in to test just how turned Rex is before he's sent in for more reconditioning flies out the window at the presence of anything that resembles hope.
He hasn't had hope for quite some time. ]
Yes. Please. [ He shakes his head, though it's more at the situation than it is at Judd. ] Anything. Anything would be better than this.
no subject
[Normally, Judd would never allow a stranger to watch his back, but he was spreading himself too thin as it was--fooling their masters, blocking the chip... if he added keeping watch on the physical plane while attempting to perform psychic surgery on the other was a surefire way to flame out, and then they'd both be screwed. No, he had to trust this complete stranger.
His eyes fall out of focus as he steps out into the psychic plane, and gives a small knock as per Psy manners. He doesn't wait for a response, as he had already received a verbal one, before diving into the man's mind, searching for exactly how the chip worked in conjunction to the rest of his brain.
He had to work fast. This was all eating up too much of his psychic energy as it was.]
no subject
[ Rex lets his hands rest on his blasters, staring warily out at the world around them. Would he kill someone who got in their way? Now, in this moment of lucidity, he knows that he would, save for a couple of poor souls who are in it in much the same way as him.
The chip in Rex's brain goes down, deep down; it was implanted in him when he was created, certain mannerisms, loyalties, personality traits tooled into it, but it's been corrupted beyond recognition by the Sith, forcing obedience and tempering rebellion in a much more active way than it ever did before.
All the while, Rex keeps a wary look-out, ready to see what's yet to come. ]