lucetilogs | Luceti Valley

Entry tags:

Luceti Valley - The Second Log

Who: Everyone
What: The second part of the experiment. Things begin to unravel.
When: August 7th - August 10th
Where: Luceti itself
Summary: Check out the mod post for more. This covers Day 6-9!
Rating: Varies with thread. Please move explicit stuff to appointments post with appropriate warnings.

Luceti Valley continued in its own merry little way. The rich got richer, the poor got poorer. A new tax hike had ensured increasing animosity between both groups, despite the protests of the every charitable Lord Mayor. But on the sixth day, something happens and people begin to notice things are unusual. Idle thoughts that if thought about too much is bound to get you a visit to the police station for an hour or so. Or worse, it may just get you committed.

Meanwhile, the asylum continues to gain more and more patients. Those that are trapped there will find escaping difficult, but there may be more to this place than they first assumed...

On the tenth, battle breaks out across Luceti Valley. People begin to exhibit powers and abilities they didn't know they had. The police begin rounding up these people to lock up. If they resist, its bound to come to blows. Even though no one has regained their memories of their true self yet, it becomes apparent that some trickery is afoot, even if they might not know the source or why.

Note: This is the second log! There will be a third and final event log for the aftermath. There will also be two separate logs specifically for finding John and defeating Zompano. For those of you that signed up, we'll be randomizing the results and replying to the selected characters later tonight. In the meantime, keep enjoying the event! If you have questions, direct them here.

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Seventh

On the seventh, Lord Mayor Reginald Douglas Quincy Zompano III makes a rare appearance! Typically the man, busy and wonderful as ever, is found at Town Hall buried under paperwork. But not today! For the Zoo has a new exhibit: an unusual specimen, the Bantha. Zompano cuts the ribbon, smiles for the reporters with their cameras, and makes a speech about how much he cares about protecting rare and endangered species like this one. After all the fanfare, Zompano strolls around the zoo. Some of the animals don't seem to like him and are downright hostile. But they're in their cages and he chuckles at the beasts. His entourage of rich and important people all laugh too and join him in light hearted mockery.

To everyone he meets along the path at the zoo, they are only too happy to see him. Babies cease their crying when mothers hand their babes to him. Women swoon when he looks their way. Even the men get a bit flustered to have his attention. And although he looks a bit more ragged than he did at Rataneran Keep, he certainly has not lost his flourish. This is his daydream and he's the star of it all. Those who have been evented, even the poor, will find it difficult to dislike him. He really is the most amazing person ever. Not that it's impossible, of course. But he just seems to ooze charm and charisma.

Eighth

On the eighth, Zompano can be found in Historic Luceti, at the old fountain. What's he doing? Why, he's reading a story to a group of little children. It's a wonderful story about how a very brave and incredible athletic man (named Zompo) was responsible for defeating a reprehensible group of businessmen (the Mallnosers) who were trying to ruin everything he did. The children, of course, eat it up. It's a wonderful tale and he is a masterful story teller. But why not? The Lord Mayor exceeds at everything. Even afterwards when he plucks out a fiddle and plays a wonderful song for all of them.

Once the story is done, he'll hang about the plaza, exploring some of the old shops and generally being unbearably charming. But as another day has passed with people's doubts increasing, it's likely people are going to be a little less awed and enchanted by him. Fortunately, he has two doberman to protect him.

[Itachi stops to listen as the panting of two large dogs catches his attention. There's nothing wrong with someone walking their animals in this part of town, of course, so it only catches him off guard for a moment.

(Why had he never gotten a seeing eye dog, anyway? Ah. Expenses.)]

Good afternoon.

[He bows his head slightly, making sure he and his cane are both out of their path so whoever's walking the dogs can get by. He's on his way home from work, taking a detour through the older part of town as he does when he wants some time to get his thoughts in order before returning to the apartment.]

Ah, what a well mannered fellow you are~!

[Zompano quite nearly coos as he sees this new fellow. He rings his hands in delight and invites his companions to agree with him. There is a mumbled chorus of agreements like "quite right" and "very nice lad" and "that poor fellow" and so on.]

[The commentary from others catches him off guard. He hadn't realized that most of the current crowd coming down the street had all been together and his face flushes just a little in embarrassment. Itachi prefers to avoid attention, and this is like shining a stage light on him.

He should recognize Zampano's voice from living in Luceti as long as he has, but for some reason he can't place it. He just knows it has to be someone far more well off than himself.]

Apologies. I didn't know you were all together.

Oh, my dear marvelous boy, you don't recognize me, do you?

[His entourage all chuckle. It's not too mean spirited, but they certainly do find him to be a bit ridiculous.]

I am the Lord Mayor! Zompano, at your service~

[The Mayor? That makes things even more embarrassing. He certainly should have recognized the voice.

He keeps himself composed as he responds, tone even, with another polite nod of his head.]

I'm afraid it would be impossible for me to recognize you on sight, and you sound... somewhat different in person. [It's the only reasoning he can come up with.] Still, I apologize again for the lack of acknowledgment on my part.

Ah, so used to hearing my voice on the radio. So, tell me dear boy, what did you think of my story? Was it gripping? Exciting, perhaps?

Your story?

[There's a confused pause as Itachi tries to figure out what he means.]

I'm afraid I've only just come this way.

Oh. Pity. It was rather good. What is your name, young man~?

[There's some slight hesitation at the idea of giving his name out to someone in this position of power, but he responds soon enough. He can't afford to get himself in trouble right now.]

Itachi Uchiha, sir.

Mr. Uchiha. A pleasure.

[Zompano sticks out a hand to shake. But realizing that this young man can't see it, he reaches out to take him by the hand.]

[Itachi lets his hand be taken, not entirely surprised by the gesture given the man's general attitude so far.]

It's... an honor, Lord Mayor.

[He thinks? Everything about today has been saturated in this overall feeling of wrongness, but he can't blame that on Zompano. (Yet.)]

8th

zompano - 2013-08-16 00:40 (UTC) - Expand

8th

yourhatred - 2013-08-16 04:53 (UTC) - Expand

Shayera had been brought in to the asylum on the 6th. While she put up more of a fight than your average housewife, the guards still had a far easier time than she'd have liked taking her in. It took her two days to work out a viable escape plan, two days of electroshock "treatment" and questionable pills that she had to work out a way not to take just in order to clear her head.

But eventually, she worked out a plan - she would free not just herself, but anyone else that she could. First, however, she had something she needed to investigate, and she needed to do it as quietly as possible. There were rumors of a man being held here for information. If such a man existed, and if the people in charge of this nightmare wanted that information, then so did Shayera. Maybe he would be able to help them in some way.

She couldn't just sit still and do nothing. She might deserve whatever this place could throw at her, but this... this was wrong, and it didn't just affect her. It was time to do something.

She got the guards to enter with the old 'Where did she go?' trick. The thick door made a handy weapon once they opened it, and she slammed it into the guard's head before liberating the keys, dragging him inside, and hooking him up to whatever medication was supposed to keep her sedated. A bedpan was her improvised weapon; she would have preferred to break off one of the metal bars on her bed, but without her super strength, that just wasn't a viable option.

Shayera hoped she wouldn't have to actually use the bedpan. The plan was to sneak through the asylum without getting caught. Hopefully the guard's outfit would help with that. Either way, she began to make her way through the halls.

Edited 2013-08-16 04:28 (UTC)

He'd lost track of time after about the fourth day. Superior intellect offers no protection against pain, and truth be told, he has no idea how all of this happened. Zompano was alive, and he shouldn't be, he'd been handed over to the cultists. Instead, he seems to be leading them. Into Luceti, even.

The times between the torture and recuperating from that torture was not, generally, wasted: he planned, he plotted, he sought to discover the truths behind what was going on in this place. But the longer this went on, the more time that passed, he seemed to have less and less spare time for anything except to scream or to sleep off the pain.

It would be very, very nice if someone could come for him soon, but he doubted the likelihood of that. Even he didn't know where he was, after all, and he assumed he was well-guarded. From what little he'd managed to divulge from his captors, he knew he was underground somewhere, there was something (many somethings) wrong with the village, and he was apparently deemed to be mad. He'd gotten a good laugh out of that, actually. They hadn't been happy.

And so, he waits. Waits, and wonders, but doesn't really hope for much. It's not his style.

It was funny how the old 'whistle and hide' tactic always lured one guard away and left the other one to stay. She beaned the guard in the head with her bedpan and then ran out to the hall to take care of the other one before he could radio for help. It was not a quick fight; she was still so annoyingly weak. But she also knew how to use her opponent's strength against him, and eventually she had what she was looking for: A knocked out guard, his keys, and a clear hallway.

Carefully, she opened the locked door.

Ah, wonderful, they were back. At the sound of the door, he didn't bother looking up; it was pointless, after all, and a waste of the energy he'd managed to save up during the lull between visits. Although calling it a "visit" was charitible, mind you. Torture sessions was what they were, precisely.

He could be found curled up in a bundle of limbs and injuries in a corner of the room, bound and chained to the wall, his dark hair matted and unkempt. His body was covered in wounds and blood, but in the dim light it was hard to tell where the blood ended and his red skin began. Instruments of torture lined the walls, and there was a table in the center, the floor stained red around it. They had been very careful to keep him alive - no sacrifices here, not when permanently killing him would be such a terrible loss of information on everything that went on in the background of the multiple organizations of this place. He had always liked that about himself- that importance, what made him crucial, irreplaceable. He didn't like how this place made him so vulnerable.

Luceti was supposed to be safe.

He didn't look up when the door sounded, merely kept his head bowed, feigning sleep. No point in hurrying himself towards the inevitable.

Shayera opened the door and assessed the room. It ranked up there with some of the more gruesome places she'd seen, and she'd seen some. She shoved down the nausea and focused on what she hoped was the crumpled survivor.

"Hey. You alive back there?" she discarded her bedpan and headed towards a wall. Torture implements were better weapons than a toilet seat.

He wants to laugh at that, but it hurts to breathe, so instead he just exhales a sigh. That's a new voice. "You people are the experts on that, I imagine. Will I receive any benefit for the good behaviour of answering pointless questions?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Shayera said. Instinct had her walking over towards him, ready to pull the chains out of the wall. She was halfway over before she remembered -- no super strength. She'd need keys, or other tools, and she didn't have much time. "But you've got it all wrong - I'm not one of them."

She began to turn around. First she would shake the guards down for some keys. "Do you know which one had the keys?"

Not one of them? What an unexpected development. He was wary, of course - it wasn't unheard of to use tactics such as that to gain trust with prisoners and therefore get information that way. She'd "free" him, and in return he would tell her everything his enemies needed to know...

Still, it got him to look up. Her face was actually kind of familiar, too.

"It varies day by day, so I can't offer you much help in that regard. However, I imagine they'd all have a set for themselves."

Patting down the first guard revealed that he was already starting to come to - frustrating. She hit him over the head again. No keys.

"I'll be right back. Try to stay conscious," she said. Time to repeat the process with the one in the hall.

It was a success; Shayera would soon return with the keys and head directly towards John.

Fascinating. Just how far would the ruse go? Assuming that was what it was. The more he saw her face, the more familiar it seemed. Without his files, though, it couldn't be confirmed as easily. His curiosity made it easier to stay awake, though he can't lift much more than his head at this point.

Instead, he turned to his own interrogation. She came back with the keys, so she was at least invested in going through with this. "Why so interested in freeing me? I don't believe we've met before."

This was really a lousy time for his question to spiral off a series of introspection - why was she helping him? Who did she think she was?

But Shayera was a soldier. She suppressed the urge to naval-gaze and answered simply and truthfully, "Because I'm here."

She began to work on one set of the locking system, using the most likely key. "We've never met, but I heard about you even before they threw me in here. And if this was an 'experiment' like the ones I keep hearing about, I don't think you'd be in here, like this." Though just freeing a man from torture was a compelling enough motive, if he was being held here - and he was - it also meant he was a valuable resource.

"I haven't been here long, but the amount of manpower that's in the village, it looks a lot more like an invasion force. And most of the village is under the impression that it's normal. So I need to get you out and do what I can. I'm Shayera Hol."

Not Hawkgirl. Not a lieutenant. Not anymore. But she was there.

She may have to pardon his timing- as a scientist, there was no wrong time to ask questions. Particularly when it came to interacting with people he couldn't recall meeting before.

Shayera Hol, though. Definitely familiar, that one. He quietly wracked his brain, eyes closed, as she worked on freeing his hands, and allowed her image and the memories of his Luceti files to come together. She was a resident, and therefore just as trapped in this place as he was. It could still be a ruse, technically, but it also meant that it was possible his lucky break had at last arrived. He straightened his shoulders, ignoring the pain movement caused as much as possible, and locked his gaze on the door the ensure they would be safe until he was freed.

"You're correct on all counts. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but perhaps under these circumstances, that isn't so." His eyes flitted to look at her, then back again. "If you feel up to the challenge, I need you to do something for me. For all of us, really."

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