Amidst the rubble of a war not long past, the stars seek to raise a new generation. Blessed with celestial powers that have begun to make their reappearance, the Gifted are individuals whose shoulders the future of the city rests on. Will you overthrow the dysfunctional government or work to keep it in power? Or will you undermine the whole game and play to your own advantage? No matter your motives, Hyperion is yours to shape.
Post by The Government on Jul 29, 2017 3:06:42 GMT
[attr="class","appsub"]"the day the world ended,"
[attr="class","appsub1"]"the day the war began."
[attr="class","appcat3"]The first crack is almost silent. There is a heavy pressure to it, this weight of birth – but it is the intimacy of new life twisted into a seeping, sullen mass. It splays over the city, hot and humid. It sticks to collars, beads sweat on necks, runs scorching fingers over sunburnt skin.
Alone, inside the city’s administration building, there sits a young man. He fans at himself with spider-like fingers, surrounded by an array of blinking screens. His eyes dart over them, never pausing for too long.
A decision has been reached, and so he has a job to do. Even with the air conditioner set to a chilling temperature, the vast amounts of technology keep the room hot and dry; he thinks of it as akin to a desert and licks at cracked lips in sore need of chapstick.
His blood pounds in his ears, and he chews on one ragged fingernail. His eyes are now glued to a digital time, featured prominently on the screen he faces. It counts hours, minutes, seconds – and he moves his free hand down, hovering it over the keyboard seated on the desk in front of him.
At 11:59 A.M. on August 1st, he presses the Enter key, running a program that begins to duplicate itself on the numerous monitors that surround him. It is a file transfer, with an auto-run application built into it.
Elsewhere, in the rest of the city, all technology capable of receiving a message grinds to a halt. All phones connected to the internet, all “smart” television sets, satellite radio, giant LCD monitors that flash across the sides of buildings. A message plays, accompanied by video on the appropriate mediums, and a warbling voice plays over a still image of a stylized camellia.
The voice peaks and drops, artificially warped beyond recognition: “Citizens of Hyperion. We hoped never again to see a world alight with flames. And yet, we are forced to recognize the growth of those called ‘Gifted’. To prevent criminal organizations from forming, we are asking all powered users to submit their information to the government, both for the city’s protection and for their own.
“The flames that once threatened to consume us all continue to rage today; we fear that even the winds of time cannot snuff out the fires of hatred. We feel it is prudent that all Gifted reveal themselves both to prove they mean no harm to their fellow citizens and to allow their fellow citizens to, in turn, protect them.”
The camellia fades off the screens, replaced with a long list of various locations, detailing what times are available for registration as well as links to online resources that will allow discreet sign-up, if preferred. For a short time, the voice is replaced with a cool, disinterred feminine voice, reading all of this information out loud.
Before the message ends, however, the original voice returns for a few, final words: “It is our hope that the citizens of Hyperion will be able to look past their differences and come together, so that we may begin to heal the wounds left by the war of fifteen years ago.”
The camellia flashes a brilliant scarlet, the same symbol used by the government during its bloody battles against the previous organizations that rose against it, and the recording ends. The screens return to their original content, the radio channels cutting back onto songs or radio hosts chattering about a tale half-finished.
The man in front of the screens leans back in his chair, once more picking at his peeling lip with a jagged nail. “And now we wait,” he says to no one in particular.
Whatever peace there was shatters with a silent sigh as war slips into the world, born anew.
[attr="class","appcatsub3"]Tags: @everyone
[attr="class","appcat3"]This character will not reply further. Feel free to reply amongst yourselves. This does not count as a character thread, as it is a special, story-driven thread. So if your character already has three threads, feel free to still reply.
It was a fairly busy afternoon in Valhalla for Lex. The lunch rush had already started, and he was busy throwing around pints and meal baskets to his various patrons, all talking happily and chatting it up. Some sat at the bar watching the current soccer match, others crowded around the billiard tables and dart boards, unwinding before they would have to return to wherever it was they had come from. It was a jovial, lighthearted air that filled the bar, with Lex at its center, conducting and maintaining it all.
It was then that the message came out. Everyone’s phones seemed to buzz, the radio retuned in the corner, and a bulletin came across the television, all somehow in perfect sync. Then, the announcement came. A mandatory tracking off all gifted personnel in the city. Lex was busy polishing up and drying some glasses with a dishcloth when it came over, slinging the cloth over his shoulder as he began to comprehend the message and its intentions. “Huh,” was all that he let come out of his mouth as the message ended. He could feel the unease begin to sweep over his bar as it came to an end, a wave of comprehension sweeping over his patrons.
He had always maintained his bar as neutral ground, whether between the various gifted people and their organizations, or normal citizens. He didn’t like things disrupting that peace he worked hard to maintain, and this clear jab at breaking the peace set him on edge. Someone was trying to spark back up something that Lex would rather just die and stay dead. But he couldn’t let that show now. For now, he needed to maintain that peace as best as he could. “Hey,” he announced, banging a hand on the bar as he saw the various people in the bar begin to eye each other suspiciously. “Remember the rules of the House y’all. Valhalla is neutral ground, and will remain neutral ground. If you have something to say, we can talk about it like civil adults, alright?” He looked back at the TV, the soccer game returning to its screen. “For now, let’s just sit back, and see what happens. I don’t know whether or not that was a real broadcast, or someone just trying to stir up a pot that’s already close to boiling over, but there’s no use in getting all worked up about it. Life has, and always will, work out. So let’s enjoy it while we can, alright? Next round for all of y’all is on me, so let’s be friends all right?”
There was a roar from the patrons at the promise of free drinks, and a sense of an uneasy, but quickly returning to normal peace washed over the establishment. Lex did his best to maintain a positive outlook and façade for his customer’s sake, passing out the free rounds he had promised, but inside, he felt they were on the brink of something huge, something he would rather not be brought back into the light.
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T
he soft drum of the clock hanging in the university classroom ticked second by second. Half the class glued to the hands as they spun around, bringing them slowly closer to the end of their monotonous lesson. The other half had their heads either buried in books, or watching the teacher slowly write one thing after another on the board.
And lazily in the back of the room was Ren, his head slumped into a soft pile of drool on his desk. A slight hum of snoring escaping his lips, as he dreamed of much more exciting things he could be doing. Like exploring downtown, confiscating an alcoholic beverage from a nearby store, or generally anything besides being stuck in class.
But his slumber couldn't last forever, as it was suddenly and rather rudely interrupted by a buzzing from his phone. As he began to raise his head he noticed the noise getting louder. And not just emanating from his phone, but those around him as well, until the entire class was suddenly buzzing.
With everyone's attention now turned toward the small devices in their hands Ren began to look around, wondering what was going on. Then suddenly the buzz was replaced instead filling the room with a short message. There were gasps, strange looks, and even a student or two seemed to race out of the door and down the hall.
However Ren remained mostly unfazed, his drowsiness keeping him from becoming as panicked as everyone else. His eyes scanned across the message once more as he began to make sense of things. His brow furrowed as he placed his phone back down on his desk. "The hell is this all about..." He muttered as he looked around the room, noticing that many of the students had already taken off.
Upon this realization Ren immediately tossed his phone into his bag and slung the strap around his shoulder. "Sorry prof." He said as he gave a soft wave and made his way out into the hall. He hadn't made it more than a few steps before he found himself digging through his bag and pulling his phone back out, retrieving the message from before to read over again. "This can't be good..." He said ad he made his way out of the school.
Owner of @_Home, net cafe located in District 4, seeking to maintain what peace that can be held onto, however long that may last. Currently a stray cat to the other districts.
@_Home net cafe held onto a few patrons that hung around. It was nearing lunch hour and not many attendees would be here at this time. What few there were at their computer stations only made small offers or got complimentary drinks from the staff as they toiled away on the keyboards. Reyna yawned a little and drank some coffee herself while hanging out at the front desk, reading over her horoscope of the day. These things kept it vague and simple but it passed the time to glance over at them like lottery numbers.
'Taurus: Today is a good day to let go of stress, Taurus! Worries may have gotten you down but it's time to unwind. If you have free time, a great opportunity has opened up. But if you want to really let those worries go, plan out some quality time to let go of that stress with a loved one.'
Reyna chuckled at the oddly intimate undertones at the end and took another slow drink. Even if she wasn't seeing anyone at this time, if today was one to be stress free about then it wouldn't hurt to take advantage of that. A cat like smile appeared when the idea crossed her mind. Turning to the girl at the desk, knowing her shift will end soon for the midday and afternoon guy to take over, Reyna chimed lightly of her plan. "Hey, wanna grab some lunch by the water? It's a bit far but if not, wanna help me carry some meals from the fast food joint up street?" While thinking of treating everyone to some fish and chips, simple things like that, the computer monitors began to flicker.
"What's this?" "I can't delete this? The hell?" "Boss, I think a virus got the the computers?"
Words like this rippled through the store as even the front desk computers showed the same odd thing. "What in the world...," Reyna and the desk girl looked at the odd pop up confused. Furious mouse clicks tried to get rid of it but nothing happened. "I'll call the IT guy," Reyna offered instead. She set down the news leaflet and coffee for her phone only to be shocked that the mysterious red flower. "What the-!?" Confusion filled the store as everyone wasn't sure of what it all meant or what was this. A mass virus attack that effected the computers, monitors, phones; just about anything with a display!? It was too surreal.
Unable to get any method to work, everyone endured the message they were all forced to listen to. It was mixed on how to take it as a joke but the atmosphere grew tense as it played. For Reyna, the message bothered her on a different level as it went off. Just some days ago, Reyna found herself free from foolishly getting mixed up with a terrorist group called S.U.C.C. that left her with little outs if they ever came to claim membership dues. Thinking she was now free to keep her business in peace of that embarrassment as not many of her own staff was aware of that, this message now left the woman concerned. It's no secret that the government wasn't in the people's favor and neither were the gangs and organizations that opposed their ordinances but something about the message had Reyna's attention and consideration. A method of security and safety? That's right up the high marks of what Reyna wanted but if this all meant working with the government to gain that recognition and safety, can this be trusted? Reyna asked herself and felt deeply tempted to try this, anonymously of course, as the message ended and all things technological returned to their normal functions.
"Boss? Are you okay?" The girl in her roller chair spoke up in concern of the usual light headed owner casting a serious look on her face.
"Yes, sorry," Reyna slowly apologized, forgetting about the lunch plans. "Let's call the IT and ask them to do a scan on our computers. Wouldn't want to have a lingering virus after all this."
Who in the world inside Hyperion runs the mark of a camellia flower? Reyna didn't have a clue on it but oddly felt to be more cautious if ever seeing that marker again. [googlefont="Roboto:700,400"][googlefont="Quicksand:700,400"][googlefont="Source Sans Pro:700,400"]
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