public broadcast - 1st warning

[wewillnotwin]

[Some time earlier that day, anyone in the city could have heard it: the sound of war. Gunfire riddled the air no matter where one had been standing, even if it had been in the bottomless pit of the Nameless Districts. Many of the citizens fled for shelter, others clenched fists around their own weapons but all ears were on the shouting, all eyes

Comments

[Text]

[key_destination]

[Roxas is quick to retreat to the shadows when there's smoke and gunfire, but not out of fear. Curiosity has seized him and when he can't seem to find the source of the fight in the area, he's almost grateful for the distraction by the new device.

He's not so happy with the message though. And yet, this was part of the government here that he was told to avoid...Hah. Like he was going to get caught anytime soon.

It's a little annoying that he hasn't figured out the device completely yet. After a couple of accidental buttons later, the text option is blinking at him. Should he...?]

Whose device is that?

[text]

[wewillnotwin]

[The reply is brief, almost right after Roxas sends the question in.]

Wouldn't give his name. It'll be returned though, if you're worried about that.

[Text]

[key_destination]

[Well- so far, so good.]

I'm not.

[text]

[wewillnotwin]

Than why would you want to know? A friend of yours missing his?

Or hers, if that's the case.

[action]

[eyeslikethese]

[Skiddish, just like Riddick had said. The first guard had asked him for some type of identification and tried to delay and restrain him when he refused. It really didn't seem fair at all though, a half dozen military men against one con with just a shiv.

They were sloppy though so Riddick had managed to get away, leaving a few of them to lick their wounds and maybe taking a little souvenier with him in exchange for that device. Things like that made it too easy to be found, too easy to be tracked by the kind of people he didn't like following him. To him the military was about as bad as the mercs, only difference was bigger guns and easier to hear coming.

For now Riddick was still in the rich district, sticking to the alleys though he had found a rather nice store that he let himself into since the owner seemed to have fled with all the gun fire.]

Not bad if it was a double max, but I would have expected better for a military man.

[action]

[wewillnotwin]

[He's not alone in that store for long - the door opens and in steps an old man, hunched over a crutch as if it's his only life support, which probably is the case, with the condition of the city. He stares, scrutinizes Riddick for a moment or two before something registers: the man is blind.]

Whos'ere?! Lis'sen you, if you think you can just barge right in here an'.. [He shakes his cane to the side, towards the barrels of rope.]

[action]

[eyeslikethese]

And what? [Riddick moves quietly, to a spot behind the old man.] Rob you blind while you were out?

[Now that he thought about it, he could probably take a few things to cover a cut or two, maybe something to drink and a bite to eat.] Not exactly my style.

[action]

[wewillnotwin]

[The man swings his cane when he realizes the voice is behind him, but he'll get nothing but air, way off from where Riddick is. His eyebrows furrow and those irises remain glazed over. He lowers his cane and huffs, still upset.]

... Migh' be killin' me to do this, but I'll give you the benefit of doubt here, boy. [He turns back, and fumbles towards the counter, settling behind it.] Why're ye n'here anyhow?

［ａｕｄｉｏ］

[euchres]

「The commandeered communicator is addressed not like a stranger or a threat or an enemy, but like a long-lost friend.」

You sure do set your expectations unflatteringly low, Chance.

[audio]

[wewillnotwin]

What is 'I'm used to disappointment' for five-hundred?

People dying gets depressing, after so long.

[audio]

[euchres]

This is about raising morale then? How unexpected! You honestly came across like some sort of super-villain back there, you know.

[audio]

[wewillnotwin]

A super-villain? Got quite an imagination, don't you?

But yeah, if you want to go by that; something like that.

[accidental audio // or action if you want to threadjack]

[verfolgungswahn]

[Sibrand had largely ignored the strange little device up until now. He had been in the Nameless district, gathering information, learning about this place. Or he had been trying to. The locals weren't talking and everything here was unfamiliar to him. It was even more stressful than the situation he had left behind, and he could only assume Assassin plots.

When the voice comes he startles, looks around him at the alleyway he had been walking through. The shots had been heard but Sibrand assumed it was canon fire many leagues away.

Having no idea that the other may be able to hear or see him, he German shakes the device and frowns down at it.]

What is this?

[He gives it another shake and holds it up close, frown turning to a glare. It must be some of this technology the locals have told him a fleeting bit of, though it is still very unfamiliar to him. Simply put, Sibrand does not trust it in the slightest.]

If I believed in sorcery...

[HI THREADJACK] 1/2

[whassamatta]

[It probably doesn't help Sibrand's nerves any, then, with all those rumors about assassins swooping in for a sure and sudden death, that a shuffle sounds from above him. Feet are skidding across the roofs of the Nameless District, as swift and sure as any assassin, even if Desmond is considerably lighter on his feet without fifteen pounds of heavy arms to bear him down. (He's working on that; hasn't quite found a blacksmith yet.)

The running stops before the echo of sneakers hitting stone can fade away, and it backtracks to the alleyway, before carefully, slowly, Desmond peeks down.]

Hey, you need any help down th-

[whassamatta]

[His face twists. Wait a minute.]

[verfolgungswahn]

[Sibrand's attention perks at the sound of of- of something, up on the roofs. He grips the communicator tightly in one gauntlet while pulling his sword quickly with the other, blue eyes darting wildly as he looks up at the rooftops.

Then that face. With strange clothes. Sibrand grimaces, weird clothes or not who but a filthy Assassin would be scurrying around up there? In a clear German accent he calls up.]

SHOW YOURSELF! I KNOW YOU ARE THERE!