Open Post 001

[2020mod]

• Step one: start a thread in this post!
• Step two: specify who the thread is for (or open) in this post!
• Step three: make people reply to this post!
• AND THAT'S THE WAY YOU DO IT.


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musebox • rules • character list

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PRIOR TO HIS OTHER SURGERY??

[viced]

Adrian Maskin had been brought in. Of course he had, he'd been taken in a few times before, a cover to look through his mansion, look for clues. They wouldn't find any. He hadn't even taken up his old habit of smoking to dull the sounds of machines, he couldn't. Anything they could get on him, they would use. So he knew his mansion was clean, and while he was still feeling the affects of the attempted assassination, he needed to play the part. He had to.

He watched the interrogator walk in, carefully keeping his face calm, although his heart raced. Another former employee. He didn't want this, he couldn't handle this. He would have to be careful.

He just lifted his eyebrows in response. The dark curls of his hair were short, but long enough that he was distinguished with the look. He focused a gray (contact covered) eye on him. Tipping his head, before he asked in Adrian's slightly higher, Bostonian accent.

"Hey."

PERFECT

[snidepiper]

Oh, it was harder when they were friendly. If they were angry, if they were violent, he could (almost) justify his own behavior, could shove denial in front of his actions well they probably had it coming. But this guy, he had one of those auras of likability.

Piper licked his lips, swallowed, and took a seat across from him.

"Your name, age, and date of registration, please." It was the typical, textbook opening trap. This guy wasn't on the books as a registered imPort--it was like a Nazi telling a spy their German was really good.

Like a Nazi.

Damn.

Re: PERFECT

[viced]

"Adrian Maskin, forty seven years old," he paused, and folded his hands in his lap. "Native citizens aren't required to register."

He willed his heart to calm, forced himself to ignore the speech of the artificial ear. He'd use it if he had to, but he wouldn't. "I'm sure you've heard of me. I think the government is thinking of outlawing free speech, actually. Could you imagine that?" he asked innocently.

Keep talking. Keep it innocuous. If he filled the room with plenty of words, Piper wouldn't have time to do what he could. Mitchell couldn't have that, Maskin had too much to do. "Sypmathizer, what can I say? This is the first time that they've actually had an import in the room with me. I think they thought I might try and convince one of you to defect."

[snidepiper]

"You're--that writer." Not that he read seditious material, he barely read at all anymore. Why bother? His job was his life, most of the rest of the time he just tried to avoid thinking about it.

Discordant. Symphony--he was listening for that heartbeat, trying to figure out if this man was lying to him. Straining. Hoping against hope he could give the man a clean bill of innocence.

"No, it's--" No, it's terrible. "A lot of things are different, now. No citizen has the right to break the law."

He wondered if Adrian could tell he was mouthing the words. "And ImPorts caused a lot of damage to this world. They're right to be upset." That, he spoke with conviction.

[viced]

Adrian leaned forward, lifting his eyebrows. He watched him like a hawk, brown eyes taking in the details, watching. He'd gotten so good at reading lips, he'd had to in his work. All the voices, millions of mechanical voices at all times, he could hear the goddamned light right now, he'd had to improvise, learn to understand people through a cacophony of voices. He'd almost thought Piper had said it, his lip twitching, but his mind caught up to himself, he kept himself from speaking until he was finished, indicating the world outside, the window, with a finger.

"Of course we are!" he said, a small jovial smile with him. Like a native citizen who supported import rights getting to meet one of them for the first time in a while. "Destruction doesn't do us any good, but we know that the government's holding a great deal of your kind prisoner. They're not letting any of your kind go, are they? Only if they work for you?" he lifted an eyebrow. "I don't know, that doesn't exactly sound like the land of the free, does it? If it was just registration, things may be different, but secret police? Discrimination? This sounds like the country that put the Japanese in internment camps, not the country that tried to make up for those actions afterward."

He looked straight at him. Former employee. Friend. The fucking Pied Piper. Flash villain turned supporting cast. It was eerie, he'd always tried to hide it, see all of these characters as people, but still, it was hard to distinguish it. Keep what he knew separate. He struggled even to this day, even to this minute. He couldn't be throwing this guy's history in his face.

[snidepiper]

This was incredibly dangerous talk and he knew it, and his heart ached to agree. Not just because he was an imPort, but because he'd known so many whose only crime was...zealousness. ImPorts to a man were demanding personalities, by their very nature they almost all stood out from the common person, they did things and dared things, and yes, a lot of property damage happened--and death happened.

"They know violent rebellion could get a lot of people hurt. In the old days--when the Porter still worked. ImPorts were beyond flippant about native life and limb. They cared more about themselves, even though they always came back, than the natives whose lives were over--whose livelihoods were ruined."

[viced]

"They were," he paused, shaking his head. His heart skipped a beat. The weight of guilt settling in. He'd tried to keep them together, tried to put away the assholes and psychopaths who killed like it was candy to eat.

He hadn't done enough. He couldn't. Not from City Hall. Not from anywhere.

"There were also imports who invented, didn't Mayor..." he trailed off, as if he were thinking. Pondering, trying to remember a name that was in the records only now. "Hundred, wasn't it? Didn't he get an entire backup power system on the City? You can't deny that a lot of 'em did some good, can you?" he questioned the Piper, driving forward.

Take control of the situation. Control the narrative. It was standard debate technique, one he'd gotten at least a little better at.