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| The Central Arcade, Westend, Landing |
| The Westend of Landing is also known as the Entertainment District. It is most active at night, where the neon lights sends the world into a kaleidoscopic glow. The Central Arcade is a wide, circular plaza with various thoroughfares spreading out like spokes on a wheel into the various regions of the district. At the center of the arcade is a round stage that nightly hosts various musical artists and groups to keep the party going even between venues. Neon piping is inlaid into the cement, creating various geometric patterns and creating pathways to various nightclubs and restaurants. AMP and Red Eye dealers covertly move through the crowds, trading doses for currency. |
| 27 June, 3014 |
Despite the curfew, the Westend is brightly lit. After all, there's always going to be someone who breaks curfew, and the Watch wants them to be safe too. Word has filtered out among those who party and those who supply those who party that a few free-thinkers are going to get together in the Westend to have some fun — after curfew. Chief among the architects of this freelancing is Drake Danger, and he now finds himself in the midst of a growing crowd of a couple hundred people.
Bottles are being passed, hyposprays are being passed, but the music hasn't started yet… it's not due for another five or ten minutes.
Lincoln 's showed up, sans client for once. He's hanging in a corner, mostly just anted to get lost in the crowd for the night. He's dressed in party clothes, Black pants, just the right amount of tight and a black vest.
Drake laughs at something one of those close by him says, shaking his head and scrubbing his hair back from his face. He takes a swig from a bottle of dark liquor, passes it back, then steps over to hop up onto the front of the stage, one hand carefully keeping his electric guitar out of the way. Spinning slowly around to face the meager crowd, he spreads his arms out to the side, his light tenor carrying easily in the plaza, "Welcome to the Westend! We're here tonight to celebrate our freedom! Freedom from fear, freedom from death, and freedom from oppression. So whaddya think? You all ready to rock?"
Lincoln runs his hands through his hair, cause his bangs to fall into his eyes. He'll step away from the wall where he's leaning and grabs a bottle os some liquid and takes a swig.
Arriving after recieving a note or seeing a poster that some part was going on on the westend she came, and dressed low key. Blue tight cotten pants, plain boots and a simple grey tunic. Wider in the neck she wears a scarf and starts to approach just as Drake asks the crowd who wants to rock, smirk widely playing at her lips Racquel starts to move in through the crowd.
Drake receives a cheer from most of the crowd, grinning broadly and basking in even the quiet applause. He pulls his guitar around in front of him, triggering a drum beat from the small speakers set up on the stage and then looking down to play out a very recognizable riff. "Some folks are born to wave the flag, Ooh, they're purple, silver, and gold. And when the band plays "Hail to the King", Ooh, they point the crossbow at you, Lord, It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no Senator's son, son." It's a classic song, a cover of Creedence's 'Fortunate Son.'
Lincoln grins around his drink, letting his head start tapping to the music. There's a desire to want to start dancing, but he holds back. Not wanting to start just yet.
With the tussel of some crowd goers dancing already she uses the jeering of the crowd to slip past them and toward the stage to get a better view. Staring up at Drake she smiles at the public show, her hand reaching out to snag out a full bottle of fresh brew as a server makes her way through the thriving crowd. Searching a few faces Racquel attempts to see a few people she recognizes but of course that's like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Drake plays through the pro-Citizen, marginally-anti-rich song, showing every indication of enjoyment, especially in the picking, dancing guitar licks. Tossing his head back to clear his hair out of his face, he tucks his guitar pick into the folds of his leather bracelet, holding up his hands to take in the cheering after the song. As the music fills the square, more people trail into the crowd, swelling the gathering to around a thousand boisterous people. "Thank you! It's good to see so many people out here enjoying their freedom. We got a couple more people from the local music scene around, but hey… anyone have any requests?"
Lincoln snorts to himself, draining the beer in his and. He'll start working his way towards the front of the stage too, looking for palace to sling the empty bottle. Catching Racquel's eye he'll give her a grin and nod in greeting.
Jostled around perhaps one too many times in her progression and Racquel finds herself jostled up into Lincoln much to her surprise. Laughing she holds her bottle away so she doesn't spill it and speaks loud enough to be heard, "Hey Lincoln!" caught by Drake on stage she watches Drake a second or so longer. Finally the blond woman gets into it and cheers loud and starts more to get into the music, dancing a little once she gets a wee bit of space from Lincoln to do so.
Drake looks around to the crowd, pointing around to catch a couple of suggestions. He laughs at one suggestion, "You got it, man. 'The Coming Storm' by Bronze Corsair." Stepping back to the speaker, he toys with the comm set up atop it, nodding to himself before he gathers up his pick once more and starts to pluck out the opening notes to the classic. The opening guitar riff — and the cheering that it draws — covers up a faint commotion from the eastern edge of the plaza.
Lincoln chuckles, sidestepping Racquel's dancey dance. "Hey girl.How's it gong?" He'll flash he one of his bright smiles before giving in and dancing as well.
Chuckling as she gets swept up into the crowd onmass and calls back at Lincoln, "Good! How you doing sugar?" Once taking one too many steps into the mass of bodies, especially with the dancing that takes place. Gone in the winds of the sweaty bodies Racquel tries to keep an eye on the stage so she can keep herself centered.
Drake keeps his attention down on the strings, playing through the song. The lyrics flow out from his lips easily, although there are a few points where he has to mumble a bit — although the words are taken up by the crowd easily enough. The concentration the song requires of him keeps him from noticing the energy shields snapping on at the eastern side of the plaza, purple rectangles with a golden band that reads 'Landing Watch' across them. There are perhaps a hundred Watchmen and Watchwomen, gathering in three rows and starting across the plaza toward the thousand or so revelers.
Lincoln's a bouncer, when not bar tending or entertaining clients. The underlying noise of shields and the appearance of watch peoples catches his attention and he'll swear softly. "Six…" He'll glance trying to decide if this is run situation, or what. He will glance to see how close Racquel is, since she's the only person he's recognized here.
Given she hasn't strayed far from where she started in a way to ensure she wouldn't get lost Racquel saw Lincoln look her way. No she hasn't noticed the the Watch folk starting to come at the back of the crowd, which makes her an all too easy target right now, way to easy. Then again the woman wasn't particularly -that- street smart, so if anyone where to save her Racquel would surely be in their debt.
As the Watch begins to advance, the back two rows spread out to either side, extending the line outward. As they pass shuttered food carts and the like, gaps open up in the line, only to be closed again on the other side. People at the back of the crowd start to notice the approaching Watchmen, and some of the cheer goes out of the crowd, a buzz of uncertain conversation rising up in its place.
On stage, Drake notices the difference in the audience, and glances over to the fast-approaching line of shields, armor, long-coats, and stun batons. The song trails off into silence for a long moment, and in that moment, the crowd wobbles, trying to make the same decision as Lincoln. Drake looks across the crowd, at the advancing Watchmen, licking his lips. In that moment, a voice rises from the center of the line, "This is the Watch." Duh. "You are breaking curfew. Put your hands on your head and remain where you are."
Oh, fuck this. Linc will push his way to Racquel and grab for her hand, "Come on…" He'll start working his way to a side, to try to get them out.
Feeling the warmth of a hand grabbing her at first Racquel is tempted to pull away, when in her twist she notices the Watch, and blindly falls after it. Finally in the hectic choas that is sure to unfold she notices its Linc helping her out and she starts to move quickly with him, shoving her way through the crowd after him.
And the movement and shoving from within the crowd causes it to shatter. People start to run in every direction. A few are knocked over, mostly those too drunk, drugged, or confused to run. Some actually do what the Watch demands, dropping whatever they were holding and putting their hands on their heads. Even as people run this way and that and chaos reigns, the Watch advances at that same slow pace, ignoring the fastest runners and moving to surround the others.
On stage, Drake looks around, then shakes his head, his words caught by the mike on his collar, "Shit. Letha's gonna kill me." But he doesn't run. Instead, he puts pick to strings again, diving into a squealing, distorted, and very rock-and-roll version of the System Anthem.
Lincoln fairly fast, getting away shouldn't be an issue. He'll make sure to keep a firm grasp on Racq's hand, pulling her closer. "Shit…man, move it!" With his free hand Linc rights a large man who's stumbling in front of them. Linc's not trying to knock him down, but will put him in-between them and the Guards.
Running along with Lincoln she pushed, shoved and was less careful as he was to get herself out of dodge. Just as she spots him moving to help someone up into standing mode yet at the same time using him as a meat shield, she thanks the lord this man had the smarts he has had this far.
A couple of the Watchmen hesitate at the patriotic music, quick-stepping to get back into formation. Likewise, when party-goers approach the lines, a few Watchmen hesitate, but others do not. Shields shove and stun batons rise and fall, knocking down revelers here and there. Again, the amplified voice rises from the center of the Watch lines, "Stand where you are and place your hands on your head. You are in violation of the public curfew set for your own safety." The big man straightens up as Lincoln grasps him, only to stumble back as the last Watchman in the line steps forward, slamming her shield into the big man and sending him spinning down again. Two patrols of 5 Watchmen each break off from the lines, their places getting taken in line as they surge toward the stage.
Drake continues playing the Anthem as the patrols rush the stage, letting the music trail to silence as they clamber up on stage, carefully tucking his pick away, and then putting his hands on his head with an apparent calm belied by the uneasy shifting of his feet.
yeah…Linc's not sure if he'd actually get bailed out, so he's running. An arm sneaks around Racq's waist, to keep her from stumbling and he'll move as fast and Stealth as he can, in the situation. There should be a side way out around here , somewhere….
Taken more into Linc's control she allows him to gather up her slight frame with him and feels herself only giving a burst of a run where its needed. Not often, but still on the occasion Racquel helps out the man to what she's capable of doing.
There are plenty of dark alleyways off the plaza, a few bright roads, and five or six hundred running people. The Watch doesn't try to chase those that don't either run at them or pass within arm's reach, the Watchwoman who knocked over the big man turning her helmet to watch Lincoln and Racquel as they rush off.
Drake's arms are pulled down and clasped with binders, a process that is happening all around the plaza to the few hundred revelers standing around waiting for the Watch to reach them.
Lincoln doesn't hand around, darting down one alley, then the next. Not that he particularly hates the guard, he just don't want to go to jail for listening music and drinking crappy beer. "Do you know of a safe spot around here?" If she lives near by, he can drop her off before trying to slink his own way back home. If not, he knows of a few places that he can grab room at. Not the cleanest, but they
Lincoln doesn't hand around, darting down one alley, then the next. Not that he particularly hates the guard, he just don't want to go to jail for listening music and drinking crappy beer. "Do you know of a safe spot around here?" If she lives near by, he can drop her off before trying to slink his own way back home. If not, he knows of a few places that he can grab room at. Not the cleanest, but they'll do.
Hurried down an alley way she looked a little worriedly in either direction, "I'm not far from Sean's place…if you can point me in that direction I can make it there." As she starts walking she trusts Linc to keep her moderately safe to at least a certain point, before he has to go off on his own. Racqueal working her best to keep concealed and move fast
The alley is dimly lit, the sort of place where surveillance cameras barely reach — if they do at all. The clamor and shouting from the plaza chase the pair down the alley, and a human-like shape lurks deep in the shadows, leaning against one of the walls. Closing in on it, the scent of blood and viscera hangs strongly about, and a glance will show the half-flayed shape of a man's body, strung up against the wall of the alley.
Lincoln pulls the hood up on his vest, he seriously doubts they'll be trying to track down the hundreds of folks who got away, but it can't hurt. "I'll walk you there. I'm not gonna leave you alone out here." He's actually surprised Sean's not with her. His steps slow as they walk the alley, the scent unfortunately reminiscent of the warehouse, minus the big fucking cat. He'll stop once he realizes and eh'll pull on Racq's arm, "No…we go back…" He'll try to physically get in her way, to stop her from seeing it, but who knows if he'll be fast enough.
She can smell blood, but she avoided looking where the scent came from, oh god she couldn't look. Allowing Linc to block that sight from her, Racquel keeps walking with the bouncer at whatever pace he sets. Her legs where long enough to keep pace and eventually they are a few steps away from her home and she smiles, "Thanks Linc! I can make it in here on my own. You going to make it home safe?
Lincoln's free hand has been in his pocket, his brass knuckles already slipped on, just in case. Not that he thinks punching something that could do that will do any good, but it's better than nothing. Dark eyes scan the area, he's debating the same thing. Is it worth it? Stupid Ren, giving him the stupid night off! "Actually…if you have a couch I could crash on. I swear I'll be out as soon as curfew's over…" He doesn't look at her though, he's too busy hopefully just hyping himself out.