![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Criminal Scum [Backdated 6/28, Action]
[Somehow their motley crew had made it off that insipid island and back to shore. An inane adventure, yet far more comfortable than the date with destiny he had planned. And just in time for the crime spree event, too. Happily, it seemed to have few takers, and the ones who really made a mess had an early start the voyage made him miss.
Lord, how he's changed. Years ago he would've been champing at the bit to play hero. And now it all seems to hollow that petty antagonism moves him more. At least the timing lines up. If he has to commit the biggest crime of his life today, at least it'll be worth something. He rang up the cyborg whose sole decision would determine if he'd enjoy peace or turmoil.]
"Hello, Grievous? It's Ted. I'm back from that cruise I mentioned. Might we have that meeting today, at a quarter past eleven pm? I'll understand if it's a bad time, what with the criminal encouragement. I repeat it must be absolutely private. Very sensitive subjects."
[That'll give him the rest of the day to goof off with his own misdemeanors. It would make for some light comedy before tragedy. To the library, and then his downward spiral.]
[OOC note: These crimes aren't actually in-game for SERIOUS BUSINESS, I'm just making them up using IRL crimes for inspiration. Feel free to stop him anyway! Except that last one that'll ruin his life forever. That one's all Grievous.]
A. Thou shalt not dance (Genessia City, noon, OTA)
[Genessia City took its strange nationalism very seriously. It was allegedly illegal to bust a move during the anthem, lest one's lack of patriotism offend. Ted got right next to the outer ring of a baseball game, and waited for his cue.]
City of splendor, City of beauty, Genessia so sweet and fair...
[His legs start moving, shuffling to and fro as he flagrantly defiled such civil sentiment. Someone stop this vulgarity!]
B. Thou shalt not eat with undue refinement (Gen. City, 1pm, OTA)
[Genessia City was also, once upon a time, very proud of its fried poultry. It insisted, nay, demanded that it be enjoyed as finger food. No silverware may dare profane their proud chicken. To the diner he goes.]
"I'll have the drumsticks, please."
"Comin' right up sweetheart."
[The repast arrives. His hands treacherously reach for the napkin. The perverse utensils are drawn, like a sword to slay a king. He puts the prongs and the knife to the meat.
And he cuts. He cuts the chicken, and with it, lays waste to all the honor it accrued over Genessia City's storied, almost certainly false history. Desecration.]
C. Thou shalt not monger vegetables of insufficient quality [Fayren alley, 2:30pm, OTA]
[A guild of farmers imposed a law, in order to keep their quality consistent, that any pickle that would not bounce was unfit for sale, and should never grace a farmer's stall.
He sought one out, bought it, and tested it. It was tested again and again until it limply struck the ground. The bounce was removed. Now all he needs is a buyer. He hung around one of the rowdier taverns, waiting for an expulsion.
A drunken rabble-rouser was forced out, with injunctions from the owner to never blight their doorway again. Or at least until they had more money. Perfect.]
"Good afternoon, sir. Would you buy this pickle for a red bill?"
[Ted was skeptically scanned.]
"The hell would I do that? *hic*"
[It gets worse.]
D. Thou shalt not commerce with drunks [Fayren alley, 2:45 pm, OTA]
"Because if you do, I'll buy back for ten times that purchase."
[It was more sensibly illegal to trade with the inebriated, a law enacted out of charity for their suggestive condition. That's right: Ted's committing double-crime.]
"So...I uh, get nine bills? What do you get?"
"Satisfaction."
[The drunk mulled it over good and hard, counting on his fingers for want of assurance.]
"Uh, sure, ya madman! Give it here."
[The exchange was completed, Ted nine bills poorer with no change in pickle ownership. Scandalous]
E. Thou shalt not own nuclear arms [Anywhere, anytime, OTA]
[Yes, it's actually illegal for civilians to carry nukes willy-nilly, a law presumably enacted to mollify bed-wetting pansies. And yet, Ted broke that one all day, every day without a care, and was never once apprehended. How did this criminal mastermind pull that off?
The sinister secret lie in his life-fiber vest, outfitted to produce antimatter for whatever he touched. A volatile power that Satsuki, in her impenetrable wisdom, saw fit to bestow upon him. Granted, that's an article of clothing, and it's antimatter, not nuclear power, but that's all semantics. The point is, were Ted so inclined, he could prove to the world for miles around that "ash" could be a verb.
The world may breathe a sigh of collective relief that, astoundingly, he never saw much point to vaporizing all and sundry. Phew! And yet the criminal lurks, just...walking around. As if he doesn't hold a weapon no man should. As if he isn't Armageddon in a shirt. Who will save us from this explosion-wielding clown!?]
F. Thou shalt not disturb curfew with vulgar pyrotechnics [Genessia City Park, 11:01 pm, OTA]
[No fireworks past eleven. Devil-worshiper that he is, Ted waited a minute past, then threw out a thread to dispense the tiniest bit of antimatter high in the air.]
*PAFF*
[He supposed that qualified as using nuclear weaponry too. Another double-whammy. That was his pathetic celebration of the coming end to normal life. For all the flak he gives world for being so false and vain, it nonetheless grew on him. He was a productive member of this fake society. He hunted bounties. He helped out people on the network when he could. He was one of the "good guys", if not especially popular.
A knot formed in his chest. That may all come to an end depending on how amiable Grievous is to his demands. It wasn't much of a life, diminishing with every disappeared loved one, but...what can he say? He'll miss it.
He remembers reading about one lovely comparison between the Orient and the Occident. It was how they handled light. The west had stained glass windows, and the east had fireworks. The former is superior, for that light stayed and illuminated. The latter is inferior, because that one died and gave in to the darkness it only stopped for a moment. He wistfully sighed.]
"Would I had the power of stained glass windows."
G. Thou shalt not steal. [Nova City Guardian Skyrise, Action, Closed]
[If Grievous came through, this would be the night. The fateful, horrible evening he'd been dreading for years. He looked up at the building, seeing it as a monument to the world's evil. So he made his preparations, loosing many dark, slim threads to create a three-dimensional barrier that could, upon his command, surround and blacken the whole awful edifice, leaving it and its wicked contents at his mercy. That was the threat. He prays he need not follow through on it. Grimly he made his way inside. One way or another, it all ends here.]
Lord, how he's changed. Years ago he would've been champing at the bit to play hero. And now it all seems to hollow that petty antagonism moves him more. At least the timing lines up. If he has to commit the biggest crime of his life today, at least it'll be worth something. He rang up the cyborg whose sole decision would determine if he'd enjoy peace or turmoil.]
"Hello, Grievous? It's Ted. I'm back from that cruise I mentioned. Might we have that meeting today, at a quarter past eleven pm? I'll understand if it's a bad time, what with the criminal encouragement. I repeat it must be absolutely private. Very sensitive subjects."
[That'll give him the rest of the day to goof off with his own misdemeanors. It would make for some light comedy before tragedy. To the library, and then his downward spiral.]
[OOC note: These crimes aren't actually in-game for SERIOUS BUSINESS, I'm just making them up using IRL crimes for inspiration. Feel free to stop him anyway! Except that last one that'll ruin his life forever. That one's all Grievous.]
A. Thou shalt not dance (Genessia City, noon, OTA)
[Genessia City took its strange nationalism very seriously. It was allegedly illegal to bust a move during the anthem, lest one's lack of patriotism offend. Ted got right next to the outer ring of a baseball game, and waited for his cue.]
City of splendor, City of beauty, Genessia so sweet and fair...
[His legs start moving, shuffling to and fro as he flagrantly defiled such civil sentiment. Someone stop this vulgarity!]
B. Thou shalt not eat with undue refinement (Gen. City, 1pm, OTA)
[Genessia City was also, once upon a time, very proud of its fried poultry. It insisted, nay, demanded that it be enjoyed as finger food. No silverware may dare profane their proud chicken. To the diner he goes.]
"I'll have the drumsticks, please."
"Comin' right up sweetheart."
[The repast arrives. His hands treacherously reach for the napkin. The perverse utensils are drawn, like a sword to slay a king. He puts the prongs and the knife to the meat.
And he cuts. He cuts the chicken, and with it, lays waste to all the honor it accrued over Genessia City's storied, almost certainly false history. Desecration.]
C. Thou shalt not monger vegetables of insufficient quality [Fayren alley, 2:30pm, OTA]
[A guild of farmers imposed a law, in order to keep their quality consistent, that any pickle that would not bounce was unfit for sale, and should never grace a farmer's stall.
He sought one out, bought it, and tested it. It was tested again and again until it limply struck the ground. The bounce was removed. Now all he needs is a buyer. He hung around one of the rowdier taverns, waiting for an expulsion.
A drunken rabble-rouser was forced out, with injunctions from the owner to never blight their doorway again. Or at least until they had more money. Perfect.]
"Good afternoon, sir. Would you buy this pickle for a red bill?"
[Ted was skeptically scanned.]
"The hell would I do that? *hic*"
[It gets worse.]
D. Thou shalt not commerce with drunks [Fayren alley, 2:45 pm, OTA]
"Because if you do, I'll buy back for ten times that purchase."
[It was more sensibly illegal to trade with the inebriated, a law enacted out of charity for their suggestive condition. That's right: Ted's committing double-crime.]
"So...I uh, get nine bills? What do you get?"
"Satisfaction."
[The drunk mulled it over good and hard, counting on his fingers for want of assurance.]
"Uh, sure, ya madman! Give it here."
[The exchange was completed, Ted nine bills poorer with no change in pickle ownership. Scandalous]
E. Thou shalt not own nuclear arms [Anywhere, anytime, OTA]
[Yes, it's actually illegal for civilians to carry nukes willy-nilly, a law presumably enacted to mollify bed-wetting pansies. And yet, Ted broke that one all day, every day without a care, and was never once apprehended. How did this criminal mastermind pull that off?
The sinister secret lie in his life-fiber vest, outfitted to produce antimatter for whatever he touched. A volatile power that Satsuki, in her impenetrable wisdom, saw fit to bestow upon him. Granted, that's an article of clothing, and it's antimatter, not nuclear power, but that's all semantics. The point is, were Ted so inclined, he could prove to the world for miles around that "ash" could be a verb.
The world may breathe a sigh of collective relief that, astoundingly, he never saw much point to vaporizing all and sundry. Phew! And yet the criminal lurks, just...walking around. As if he doesn't hold a weapon no man should. As if he isn't Armageddon in a shirt. Who will save us from this explosion-wielding clown!?]
F. Thou shalt not disturb curfew with vulgar pyrotechnics [Genessia City Park, 11:01 pm, OTA]
[No fireworks past eleven. Devil-worshiper that he is, Ted waited a minute past, then threw out a thread to dispense the tiniest bit of antimatter high in the air.]
*PAFF*
[He supposed that qualified as using nuclear weaponry too. Another double-whammy. That was his pathetic celebration of the coming end to normal life. For all the flak he gives world for being so false and vain, it nonetheless grew on him. He was a productive member of this fake society. He hunted bounties. He helped out people on the network when he could. He was one of the "good guys", if not especially popular.
A knot formed in his chest. That may all come to an end depending on how amiable Grievous is to his demands. It wasn't much of a life, diminishing with every disappeared loved one, but...what can he say? He'll miss it.
He remembers reading about one lovely comparison between the Orient and the Occident. It was how they handled light. The west had stained glass windows, and the east had fireworks. The former is superior, for that light stayed and illuminated. The latter is inferior, because that one died and gave in to the darkness it only stopped for a moment. He wistfully sighed.]
"Would I had the power of stained glass windows."
G. Thou shalt not steal. [Nova City Guardian Skyrise, Action, Closed]
[If Grievous came through, this would be the night. The fateful, horrible evening he'd been dreading for years. He looked up at the building, seeing it as a monument to the world's evil. So he made his preparations, loosing many dark, slim threads to create a three-dimensional barrier that could, upon his command, surround and blacken the whole awful edifice, leaving it and its wicked contents at his mercy. That was the threat. He prays he need not follow through on it. Grimly he made his way inside. One way or another, it all ends here.]