MISSION: Operation Central City Festival II - Space Race

[Csilla Angelis]

Panic. Sheer, bloody panic. The kind of panic that drained the color from your face and made the hair on your arms stand on end. The eyes would widen, the breath would shorten and become labored. Everything else in your mind would fade away to focus inexplicably on the panic-inducing moment. There was no escaping it. There was no alley to duck down and flee, no table to hide underneath. The only options were to faint... or stand up and beat the panic down with a large stick. And today of ALL days, Csilla Angelis would not faint.

Today was the day she had been preparing for and dreading for months. Shortly after her return from Creta in June, she was dropped with the news that she would be the one organizing the Central City Festival, to take place after the new year. It had been one of those jaw-on-the-floor moments, but she'd manage to shut her mouth and get to work. She was given a nice budget and luckily, a lot of the stuff wasn't too complicated. Get the booths organized and set up, reserve various amusing attractions. The biggest thing was preparing for the influx of powerful individuals. Carraig was showcasing a space rocket and Xing was attending as a sign of good relations since the new Emperor took the throne. That meant security had to be tight and on the mark. And Csilla wasn't given the position Head of Defense for nothing!

About 45 minutes from downtown Central City was a massive open area; a park, some would call it. It was there that Csilla had the fair set up. There was shuttle buses from a parking garage about 10 minutes drive from the park and a good distance from both sites was where the Carraig rocket was set up. That area was sectioned and patrolled by a combination of Amestrian and Creig security, to ensure there would be no trouble makers. The rest of the fair was set up in a nice, orderly fashion. Rides were dotted all around the area, rather than clustered together. There was a small food court in the center of the festival. All of the vendors selling fair-food like cotton candy and funnel cakes also had their little booths around the fair, to make sure everyone always had the chance for something scrumptious and completely unhealthy. Games were in abundance, with a variety of toys and prizes to make child and adult alike squeal with joy. There were balloon vendors as well, so that the colorful shapes could add to the already delightful décor. All in all, the fair was picture perfect.

The January day was delightfully sunny, the day unseasonably snowless. It was a little chilly and those riding the roller coaster and ferris wheel would probably come out with bright red noses. All of the staff for the festival had been told not to where their military uniforms, in order to make everyone a little more at ease. The only sparkle of military dress could be found with the security teams and the respective visitors' guards. However, Csilla had wanted to ensure that the staff were easy to spot. She had set aside a small part of the budget and ordered navy blue fleece jackets. They were big enough to go over someone's normal clothes and jackets and the back of each had “Festival Staff” written out in big, white letters. On top of this, Csilla had spent nearly a month embroidering the name of every employee onto the right, front side of the jackets. Every person, no matter how early or late they RSVPed to work the festival had one. It was the one mandatory part for any employee.

Csilla stood at the entrance to the fair. Employees had been arriving since the early morning, getting their respective parts of the fair set up. But now it was hitting 10am, and it was time for the fair to open. It was going to be fantastic day, with the festival showpiece, Carraig's rocket, being displayed at 4pm. A gathering of people stood outside the open entrance, which was cut off only with a big ribbon. Ticket takers, led by Shula, were in place to start working. Csilla gave everyone a big grin, and walked to one end of the ribbon. She untied it and began to roll it up as she walked to the other side. As soon as she got to the end, she turned to the crowd. “Come in! Welcome to the Central City Festival!” Cheers went up as the customers surged forward, ready to begin their day.

[Reila Tsukino]

POSTING ORDER:

Amestrian Militants > Special Guests (Creig Militants) > Sabotagers (Xingese Militants) > Customers > FREE FOR ALL

RULES:

Okay, we all know you're in Central City, so this time we don't need the location; we just need the relative area. For example: "HAUNTED HOUSE:"
Following the colon, I'd like to ask you to essentially 'tag' the characters your post affects. If you mention a character in it, tag them. If your character is with another character, tag them. If your post doesn't concern anyone, type 'no one'. If your post concerns everyone, type 'everyone' or 'Cretan militants', etc. This is to dispel any discrepancies and assist busy people with reading only the posts that involve them. Though as the mission continues, you may run into posts that typically are essential to everyone. I also HIGHLY recommend that everyone read ALL the posts anyway.

For reference: https://mdalchemist.rpg-board.net/t3327-mission-operation-central-city-festival-ii-space-race#28078

Aki

[Axel Belial]

He briefly wondered which idiot had handed out the jobs. Not that he was going to complain but someone gave him the important job of running the bar. Giving him access to as much free alcohol as he wanted. Currently he was stood there. Dressed in a fine waist coat of black and green, matching his cat like eyes. The bar had a beautiful golden theme as soft Esparian music played out throughout the bar in a soothing manner. He had begged for a dance floor and club music but it had been sharply rejected.

The bar was polished lean and shone, Fresh clean martini glasses sat in waiting for customers. A bouncer stood by the red rope ready to let people in and out, after all glasses were not allowed to leave the bar. though waiting for the first wave of people Axel casually lent on the bar sipping his own drink. Central had been lucky he had nothing to do. His fingers casually stroked his EMR that was stashed under the bar prepared in case this event would repeat the previous fair. After all...with Riote around... Better safe then sorry....but for now Axel was very content with helping himself to as much free booze as he could get down his throat.

Sucking on the olive lazily he glanced out to the door with bored eyes. His goggals sat round his neck and his hair was pulled back into a braid for once, long standes round his face. Making him look a bit more tidier

[Alaina LeClair]

Alaina walked towards the ride she would be operating today. She always loved the Ferris Wheel, even as a small child. It was a calm ride where one could gaze out at the endless horizon and think about plans for the future, or simply let the mind wander as they gaze off at the beautiful landscape.

Alaina smiled to herself and zipped up her jacket, letting her fingers brush over the embroidery on the front. She had received it earlier from Csilla and was quite glad to receive it. It was obvious Csilla had spent time on these, which made Alaina thankful; but she also greatly enjoyed the warmth the jacket brought with it, as that January morning was a cold one.

Alaina walked up to her ride station and set everything up, making sure the signs were in the correct places and that the soft music from the ferris wheel was playing. Everything was good to go.

Alaina stood beside the Ferris wheel and huddled into the jacket, trying to ward off the chilliness and hoping that the sun would warm the fair later on. She craned her head and looked up at the tall attraction, hoping customers wouldn’t be too intimated by the cold to not want to ride.

[Guest]

Man, being up this early really made Jocelyn enjoy her time. That cold morning air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath from atop her rock wall: one of her greatest alchemical acheivements. It'd started off basic enough, a solid 20 foot tall wall, but it need slants, hooks, and cliffs to help it mimic a mountain edge. She went around all across her wall in rigging and created smaller walls out from the wall in differnet areas to creat certain peaks. Then she transmuted foot and hands holds, so 3 hours later, she was ready to go, with only a few minutes to go before doors were open. She'd almost forgotten about the notes. Jocelyn believed that it was always nice to have some encouragement going into anything, so Jocelyn took the time before she went to work her construction to write notes in Shula and Lisbeth's fleece coat jacket. Both read, "Let's do our best today. For South. Good luck today, ma'am. Signed, Lieutenant Colonel Jocelyn Veska." It was a small jesture, but something told her that it'd be appreciated today. Even Jocelyn was feeling a little shaken today, but it was just running something for people to climb, what could go wrong, really?

Then she heard the surge of footsteps as the customers rushed in was only short of frightening and disheartening. But she could do this. She took a deep breath and took one last surveance of the grounds, locating both the photo booth and the front gates in her vision. It only took a moment to memorize them. She was towards the back of the grounds, so she could see most everything from atop the wall. She rappelled down the wall and landed with a thunk. She was wearing her leather hiking boots and jeans today, complete with a white cotton tank top covered by her zipped up jacket. She was just pocketing her transmutation gloves as she boomed out to the line for her attraction, "Alright, I've got five harnesses here and a twenty foot wall. Who wants to be the first to scale South Mountain?!" She had plenty of energy in her voice today, though her face barely broke a flat line. She had energy, just not enough to smile today. Hadn't had that energy in quite a while. But, Jocelyn was already watching teenagers saunter up to the bench.

Jocelyn explained how to harness themselves (since she sure as hell wasn't doing it), equiped them with helmets, put them on the safety ropes, and sent them on their way. Of course, she was taking the money into her lockbox and was standing by with her prizes of her choice: t-shirts, bags, and other such merchandise advertising "I conquered South Mountain!". Though, she knew many wouldn't be taking them home. She made this herself, and even to her, it was challenging to climb. It was the degree of the cliff, having to scale an almost horizontal wall 2/3s of the way up. Two had already dropped before they got there. The other three dropped on said wall. She waved goodbye to them as they went about their way, seemingly happy even though some of their falls were rather...embarrasing. Jocelyn peered back to the front gates. The Creigs and Xingese were on their way, she knew. It made her feel unsettling, so far away from her commanding officer. She kept thinking things would go wrong, something straight out of one of those horror movies about "fate" and "there's no escaping death" kind of deals, but she kept brushing it off. It was just a fair. Just a fair. Everything was going to be fine. She was glad there were customers. Attending to them kept her mind off the thoughts.

[Guest]

Today was the day. The biggest day in Amestris for a long time, putting aside any major incidents, wars, marriages, or what-have-you, was today. The Central City Festival. It was just one big flurry of motion as a rather tall woman made her way through the crowd with a fresh batch of costuming that she had brought in her car that was parked about a block away from where her humble booth stood amidst the festivities. Her long raven hair was pulled back into a ponytail that flowed over her one shoulder, its locks loosely curled so they had a wavy effect. She had a snack earring in her ear, its tail hanging out the back of her lobe while the length of it curled up and around her ear so it appeared to almost cup against the flesh. Her other ear was hidden by her ear, though her bangs remained straight and perfect over the pale skin of her face. For once, she was out of uniform (or anything similar to it) and in relaxed wear. She slowed to a stop beside her photo booth with its trunk of props and a curtained changing area where she began to hang the clothes that she brought with her.

As for her, she was sporting a close fitted dress with a high slit that slithered open up to the middle of her thigh, revealing those deliciously long legs of hers. Purple pumps matched the purple dress with jolly-roger skulls all over it, her arms also exposed except for a gold bracelet on each wrist. The cold didn't really bother her as she was used to a variety of climates despite where she was currently stationed in warm, warm South and its tropical shores. The top of the dress sloped up to her neck where it covered about half of the slender flesh there, a smile beginning to spread across those perfectly painted lips of a passionate red. A necklace hung about her neck, a ring glinting in the morning light depending on how she turned in those rays. Taking a deep breath, her hands came to rest on her hips as her weight shifted all onto one leg, admiring her work as she looked over the booth one last time. It was ready. And just in time too, for the doors were about to open any minute. "Excellent." She murmured softly to herself with a little nod to herself before glancing about very quickly to see if anyone was really walking around yet. Quickly shouldering her purse, she politely asked if the stall next to her could keep an eye on things for a few moments while she ran out.

So with the quickness of a mouse, she took long, striding steps towards the rock climbing wall that towered against the skyline with the Ferris Wheel being the biggest thing there. She wanted to see her new subordinate and check in with her, and they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk with all of the preparations and whatnot for the various goings on between South and this festival. It didn't take her long to find Jocelyn, blinking as she noticed her fleece jacket hanging next to the great wall before her. She pulled hers from the rack and laid it over her arm, hearing a great cheer from behind her as people began to rush into the day of entertainment and joy after months of war and loss. Damn. She dug into her purse and pulled out the pad of paper that she always had in there, scribbling down a quick note to Lieutenant Colonel Veska.

Good luck today Lt. Colonel! I'm sure we'll knock 'em dead. Here's my number if you have any issues or questions. Feel free to text or call! XXX-XXX-XXXX

-Colonel Lisbeth Holmes

The handwriting was neat and graceful, placing it down on the chair nearby before she ran back to her booth, unaware of the note that was in her coat pocket as she arrived moments later at her humble booth. Just in time too for she heard the squee of children that saw the beautiful clothes and delightful props, placing her coat and purse down by her stool as she greeted them all with a bright smile. "Welcome! Feel free to pick out a costume and a prop, or just a prop if you'd like." She helped a family get all garbed up before explaining to them how the booth worked for it was one of those kinds of booths that you find in malls and parks. It would print out two copies of a strip of five photos that you took. To see those big smiles and the happiness of the people that came by, Lisbeth couldn't help but be warmed herself. It was a reminder of the good in the world, of the light amidst the dark that RIOTE had cast. Yes.... She had a hopeful feeling for the day, and she truly hoped that the voice in the back of her mind would be proven wrong.

[Jay Furor]

A metallic set of feet clicked against the concrete as the young colonel made her way through the gates, around the crowd that had gathered. Noting the casualness of the event, Jay was wearing, quite simply, her usual attire of a miniskirt and a black bikini top, rather than her usual revealing tube top, as she enjoyed showing off her... abs. Yes, her abs, and nothing else. Definitely not trying to pick up random girls who share her interests in hardly-dressed women. But alongside the standardized Jayish uniform, she had slung on her jacket and was wearing it opened. She didn't usually like jackets, really, but it was long, coming down to her knees, and Amestrian blue, not to mention Csilla had worked really, really hard on them, so it was special, and therefore she liked it. Plus, she looked sexy in anything, so yeah. Aaaaanyways, she was headed through the gates, and had full intentions of going straight to her post at the rollercoaster, as she had recieved a note from Csilla the night before:

Dear Jay,
Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, no funny business, Jay. I know it can be hard for you to do anything seriously, but this festival is really, really important, so just try not to kill anybody, okay? I'm putting my faith in you, and you have the rollercoaster this year, so pleeeeeeeaaaase don't do anything reckless!

~Csilla

Aaaaw, she had faith in Jay!~ Jay had faith in her too! And for that reason, she would try her darnedest to to do this job properly! But first, she was thirsty! So she headed for the bar!~ It wasn't that far from where she'd come in at, and as she approached, she noted it was already manned. Lovely! Waltzing right up to the bar, she flashed the guy a grin and a wave. "Hiya, guy!~ Colonel Jay Furor, nice to meet you. No clue how I haven't met you before, but you look like a person, so I'll assume you are. Anyways, could I get a bottle of bourbon?" As he retrieved the required booze, she gathered her cash and paid for it, because stealing is wrong, kiddies. Kaaaaay, thaaaanks, byyyye~" With that cheery grin, she skipped off towards the rollercoaster, waving good-bye to the bartender she totally didn't rob, because theft is a crime, punishable by law, and ain't nobody got time for that.

That done, she popped open the bottle, waving cheerily to the bartender as she walked away, taking a long swill of the glorious liquid goooooold. A bottle of bourbon a day keeps the repomen away, they say~ Stepping away from the bar, she clamored over the little rope-gate of the rollercoaster, and stood inside the control booth, grinning out at the people who had begun trickling in. "Come one, come all, step right up and experience the thrill-ride of your lifetime! Soar through the skies at ten bazillion manillion papillion miles per hour or something similar! Fly through clouds and hoops of FIRE! Feel the force of the wind tearing at your skin, trying to peel you like a grape! Step right up, anyone of any height can ride; well, any height 5'4" through 7'2"!" Knocking backa bit more bourbon, gracefully now placed in a paper bag, she opened the gate for the first twelve people. As they buckled themselves in, she came around with a clipboard and a waiver. Erm... Unbeknownst to Csilla, Jay had well... She'd had the engineers modify the rollercoaster JUST A LITTLE. Probably because Csilla had left out FIRE HOOPS and swiging blades. It was perfectly safe, really, so long as everyone didn't panic. Good thing she was so responsible and sober! Nothing could possibly go wrong!~ Pulling down the lever, her first set of victims rocketed off.

They started out slowly, heading off on the horizontal, slightly down-slanted beginning, and after a few seconds, hit the first rise. Climbing slowly on the little conveyer belt, they rose and rose and rose to the top of the first hill, and as they reached the top, it paused, before suddenly SWOOSH! Screams of delight and fear!~ Watching, she enjoyed the beautiful sight of people swooshing around the little side-ways twisty part, up the loop, followed by another loop, and another, and a DROP!, and a rise, and a DROP!, and a rise, and a DROP THROUGH THE HOOP OF FIRE, and a rise, and a DROP, THEN A LOOP, AND THEY WENT AROUND IN A CIRCLE, SPIRALLING DOWN AND SUCH. That was the best part, because GUILLOTINES JUST NARROWLY DROPPED AND ROSE BACK UP AS THE COASTER SAILED THROUGH. One more rise, and another drop, and it came full-circle, grinding to a halt where it had started, as Jay helped everyone unbuckle and comb their Einstein-ed hair. "Congratulations, you guys just tested this roller coaster for safety for me! You guys are really good sports, you know that right? Hope you had fun, and enjoy the rest of the fair! Next group, step right up..." And so it went... Fun, fun, fun, fun, good old festive festival fun!~

[Shula Brighton]

Festival.

Fes-ti-val. Noun.
1. An occasion for feasting or celebration, especially a day or time of religious significance that recurs at regular intervals.
2. An often regularly recurring program of cultural performances, exhibitions, or competitions.
3. An event in Central City that, until the Amestrian Military took to running it, had been fun and reasonably safe and was now synonymous with death, destruction, memories of being attacked by terrorist groups, panicked crowds, and sabotaged rides, all for the public to enjoy for just 20 cenz a ticket.

For all her life that she'd been trapped in her three-story coffin, Shula had always wanted to sneak out to go to a carnival of any kind and have fun with her brother and Jean. She heard his friends talk about festivals in Meissan, back when they were all so small and the world was still so big. There were rides and exotic animals, shows, music... They always seemed so grand, even if the one that came to that tiny village was really only just a handful of rides shoved into a cleaned-up sheep field. Shula didn't see a real festival until the last Central City Festival, where her only job assigned had been to make sure the booths and rides were working by trying them out; of her coworkers, so soon after ranking as a State Alchemist and achieving the only goal she'd had in her life, Shula had been assigned to go play and have a good time. And somehow that got shot to hell entirely. First one to joke and ask if going to the festival again would kill her was getting a tiny fireball shot on their ass; when she left the festival it actually did kill her, if only briefly. Not something she wanted to do again anytime soon, and being dragged into working the festival again really did nothing to make Shula want to be there as she forced up a smile, trying to suppress her desire to scream. Her teeth were so clenched that Shula may have been able to bite through steel.

But Csilla had asked her to do it. Very, very sweetly, and with bribes of cake and hot chocolate and possibly even hugs from half the staff of Pi until eventually Shula sighed heavily, signifying her defeat. Dammit it was a good thing she loved her best friend. And then there were matching fuzzy jackets to boot. That... was at least sweet and almost kinda cute, even though Phillip had nearly died laughing seeing his fierce alchemist and General for a baby girl shoved into a fleece carnival jacket. Har-de-fucking-har. But Shula was going and manning the front ticket booth, where an exit would be an easy thing if need be, and she hoped to Ishvalla that things would be just fine. JUST a day where people got on the rides and did stuff. And Shula was at least quasi-prepared; apart from being mildly armed, her alchemy bracelets weren't leaving her hands for a second, and there were tiny pouches of extra saltpeter in her pockets. Fuck if she'd be defenseless in her paranoia. And even though Shula's body was repaired and she hadn't needed pills beyond basic headache pills here and there, a small bottle of nerve tonic pills were also stashed in her pocket. They were all natural according to the bottle, and actually worked pretty well in those situations where you just felt ready to jump out the window due to anxiety, or in this case being at a festival she knew she didn't really want to attend and she knew beyond a doubt that Spade didn't want to be at, either.

There was also one other tiny trump card Shula was bringing with her, whether anyone knew it or not. Two somethings, but one of them she knew wouldn't really work close up. A cardboard cutout of her that she could shove into the booth, but that was mostly a gag to make it look like she was there; the real gem came in the form of a tall, scrawny private whose task load resembled Shula's when she first started at South. He was a gopher who excelled at playing fetch, making awkward faces, blushing at the worst possible moment, being tall enough to get things down from the higher shelves and cabinets (and opening jars), and best of all was blessedly unable to say no to Shula since she was in charge and if he hesitated she often hit him hard with "Pleeeeeeeeease~?" Private Ulf Amherst. When Shula was discussing the sign-ups for working with Central for this event, she'd specifically told Amherst that she was in need of a special-duty volunteer, which casually meant he'd been drafted into being her lackie. Then again, there was a reason you were called private; after you signed the papers, you were then privately owned!

Shula let out a deep breath, popping the first two of her bottle of nerve tonic and chasing them with a long swig of her bottle of black currant tea. The jacket was warm, at least, and there was... something tucked into the breast of it? Shula ruffled her hand into the material as she scooched into the ticket booth, long white braid spilling down her back. It was a note. "Let's do our best today. For South. Good luck today, ma'am. Signed, Lieutenant Colonel Jocelyn Veska." There was a teensy smile. At least someone was wishing them good luck in surviving the madhouse, right? And it couldn't possibly be worse than anything else she'd jumped into, be it the last Festival from Hell, being left behind at South, or Drachma. Certainly not worse than what had happened at Todtnauberg. It was just a festival, and last year's accidents were a fluke. It'll be fine, Bright Eyes, she told herself, glancing up to the sky. Amherst was yapping, papers flipping over a clipboard in his hand. Rules, regulations, what to look for, guidelines, yip yip yip yip yip yip yip!

Thin fingers went to her temples and began soft circles. It was far too early for this. "Amherst," Shula said. There wasn't any real tone in her voice other than groggy grumpiness that longed for her bed. Still, Shula suddenly speaking up had caused the yippy dachshund to suddenly halt and drop his clipboard into his lap as he looked intently at her, wide-eyed and waiting for orders. "There's still coffee in your travel cup, right?" The weenie dog in the Amestrian uniform blinked at her before slowly reaching out for his travel mug as though being tested in some clever way he wasn't prepared from. He looked in the little mouth hole, and then gave it a good swirl before nodding.

"Um... Yes, Ma'am....?" She sighed inwardly. It really wasn't a trick question; did you still have coffee, yes or no. And how many times did she have to tell people not to call her Ma'am? Hn. Too early. Just... too early and nerves were already crawling. Shula stood abruptly, grabbing two tall travel mugs and nearly climbed over the kid to get out of the booth's only door.

"Good. Guard the ticket booth, I'm grabbing coffee before I'm not healthy to be around." It wasn't really a question and not directly an order, but didn't leave the private any wiggle room to say no. Shula knew exactly what she needed, and if she needed she knew Spade would need it, and there was only one place right now they could both get what they needed: the bar. Thankfully the grounds were still empty with just staff, and finding the bar was pretty easy. There was a nice, beefy bouncer, and a cute redhead manning the bar. Good morning. There were two hollow klunking noises as Shula put the empty travel mugs on the temporary bar and looked up at Axel with a tired smile. "You've got the bar... You're going to be a very popular man today. I need happy juice for myself and General Aeries." Shu let out a small sigh, looking at all the liquor behind Axel, wondering if Spade would rig an obnoxiously long crazy straw to one of the untapped kegs to keep him content through the day. "Spade needs black coffee with a shot and a half of whiskey, and some sugar. I want the same but with Disaronno, cream and sugar, please." Typically, properly-raised Ishvallans didn't drink. But they also didn't join the Amestrian military, stick with it, or run their fucking base, either.

Gustav... Watch my back today, kay? Shu dug out her phone, quickly siding it open to shoot Spade a text. Getting you a coffee, polluted like you like it. Between the nerve pills, boozy coffee, encouraging notes, beloved ghosts watching over, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day.

[Spade Aeries]

This morning he had to wrestle his coat from his fiancé who had it stashed somewhere on the sofa with a book. What. Spade Aeries was beyond everything to the point where he nearly snapped at her. He wasn't playing games today. Just look at the alarm clock. People would always 'metaphorically' smash their alarm clocks when they went off at obscene hours of the morning, but no, seriously, this time, it was for real. He didn't use his fist (because he figured he needed it today), and instead, used some sort of blunt weapon he found on a walk once through the rubble of Central City. It was kind of like a pole, but it was flat and had holes in it. Prolly some kinda thingamajigger that was a part of the foundations of buildings or some shit. He was most likely right, but he didn't know what the hell it was called right now. It didn't fucking matter. What mattered was that his nice, expensive alarm clock was in pieces. Yeah, he felt goddamn guilty as shit, but it wasn't like he could reverse time and tell his sleep-deprived self that didn't sleep the night before or last night not to do what he was about to do. Dude, it was like therapy. And that scared him. Had things gotten so bad that-- Fuck if he was wearing fleece. Fuck that shit. He was lucky he had a navy blue coat too because fuck if he was going to buy one just for this shit. Fuck everything he needed a drink. BUT NOOO he had to run the fucking teacups. OF ALL THINGS. And who the hell came up with the idea of making them teacups?! It would make more goddamn sense if they were like dradles or tops or something. Hell, even beer mugs would be cooler. Yesss...beer mugs.

He had been here since? He glanced down in a haze of smoke at his watch. Hours. Since the sun rose. He didn't feel like counting. He didn't care. Why was he looking at his watch? Fuck it. He looked away and huffed, rustling around in his pocket for another box of Lucky Sevens (he was stocked). One was held crumpled in the hand that searched, getting in the way. He threw it at the stall wall in the control room and fumbled better for the necessity. Drawing it out like a quick draw pistol, he popped one in his mouth, lit up, and dragged that motherfucker down in a fog. Pro. Eyes glazed in nicotine, he poked a few buttons on the dash, not even looking. He knew what he was doing, but he was crouched, slumped over in a lazy bend, out of sight. It was operating itself: self-operating. They didn't have to know he was here. Fuck them. They were just people. People died. He didn't have to look at them. He'd remember. Spade didn't want to remember anymore. He rubbed out the cigarette with all the others, making a leaning city of vertical stubs and ash. Ah, but wasn't that what the world looked like? Leaving behind tombstones of skyscrapers that never quite reached, the ash being them burned away in time. Right, time. He stared back down at the hands trying to strangle him, calculating. Oh, there was only like, what, ten more hours until he could go home and veg and try and forget that today even happened. No, there were ten more hours in which something could go wrong. For all of that time, Spade would stay here. He wouldn't move, wouldn't be seen, wouldn't talk to anyone, wouldn't answer his ph-- Buzz.

Getting you a coffee, polluted like you like it.

No. No. No no no no! Ruined in a moment! He didn't reply, only stared at the text as if he could will it to go away and vanish from whilst it came. Go back to cyberspace you bastard! Ugh he felt short of breath. Deciding not to light up another, he tried to gauge how long it would take from the ticket booth to the bar to the...fucking teacups. Not long enough. He groaned, and flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes so Shu wouldn't see how fucking ruined he was. He couldn't even focus on anything. It was just. He kicked his city down like Godzilla to the Aerugese, brushing them aside so it wasn't obvious that he was down a pack already. Tapping his boot like a druggie, he started to get antsy, dreading the moments before something polluted was handed to him: a solution. She was giving him an excuse. She was handing him the key to the floodgates. She was inaudibly telling him that he could wallow again in that place where alcohol became lies of false happiness. He threw himself onto his feet, pacing once before turning to the fogged window. Taking his finger, he wrote backwards (so someone could read it outside): BEWARE SPADE. Rabid dog, same thing right? Then turned up the heat another three degrees. Couldn't wait until April? 'Course not. Had to be earlier didn't it?

He was running away, wasn't he. He was trying to hide from it, wasn't he. He was completely out of character, wasn't he. Don't answer that. Really. He guessed there was a breaking point for all men. His was here. He'd never get the words out of his head. "It's over. It has to be this way." It didn't. It didn't. He grit his teeth, and pounded his fist into the glass with an angry sigh. Why was it so much louder now?! His fleece coat served a single purpose and it wasn't keeping him warm or alerting others to who he didn't want to be right now; it hung across the one window pane that showed him the festival to the left. To the left, what could be seen, looming brightly in not just his nightmares, but reality now...was the ferris wheel. "Don't...ever...look back..." He was a fucking hypocrite. He was looking back. But it wasn't advice to himself; it was to his falling best friend, Markus. Tonight, the tiny scar on his back ached. It ached just like everything else. He wanted nothing more--nothing more...than to close his eyes and disappear. "MARKUS!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[Iris]

The festival had come. A weird situation for Iris as she hadn't been in Amestris for about a month. In fact she had been purposely AVOIDING Amestris, but her loyalty would never slip. Even though the pieces were all falling out of her hand. Even though there was nothing in her palm, but the broken remnants of what had been her life, she had to cling desperately to what was left of what she loved the most. People past by, mainly avoiding her, probably for good reason. With how much depression Iris was feeling, it was probably plaguing the whole area. She had to dismiss herself for only a moment to wash her face. A forced smile was better than nothing or perhaps she could give way to apathy? That sounded most satisfactory. Toss had helped ease the pain a little, but it would never fully vanish. At least, so she assumed. Like a pin-needle in her chest, regret was an illness that didn't heal as quickly as one would want. Nature was hard to defy.

Anyways, once she had recovered from her sort of freak out, she made her way to the Merry-go-round. A smile now sat on her face, though slightly half-hearted. Watching the small children get on did help ease her back to the normal self. Distractions were wonderful. How WAS Toss, she wondered. She knew he was around somewhere, but was he okay? Bah! Who was she kidding, that man was fine. It wasn't like he could do anything, anyways. Though, it was an odd conversation in getting to come, almost as if he had to debate on bringing her along. He certainly WAS something else. Her pink eyes greeted another child and helped them on, while half-watching the festivities. People were running back and forth with excitement. Seriously, she hadn't seen so much joy since Christmas... and that was pushing it.

(Kept it short)

[Envy]

There were many food stalls at the festival.

We could go on and describe all of them. But we don't need to, for we are interested in only one of them. This stall was maintained by one of the more mysterious militants. There was information about him coming in to work, yet there were very few people who could truthfully say that they had seem him working as often as the various information told. However, that information was very solid. And seeing that going as far as to fake that much information just to prove that one person worked where he was claimed to work would be abnormal, no one looked too much into it.

This blonde man was looking quite serious. His attitude changed into slightly nicer one when a customer approached. Some people seemed confused by this, others simply didn't question it. Maybe they didn't just pay attention to it. This could have been similar to the fact that no one was noticing the pattern how he served the food from different stacks every once in a while.

"Are you sure about this?"

Except one. But that one wasn't exactly a surprise, as she was supposed to know about it in the first place. Major Sherman turned his head towards this other militant and switched his face to "customer-mode". "Miss, you know very well that I'm not supposed to be socializing at work. Now, would you like something?" Romy looked at him for a moment before sighing. "Give me one of the pastries. From the "safe" section". Major Sherman got right on it, handing a Danish pastry to the young lady. "I just don't see why you would want to risk losing that mask". Major Sherman stopped movements of his body for a moment to glare at the militant. Sudden swift in expression didn't cause any reaction in Romy. "Imagine the amount of people who visit here. Who do you think will notice that some of them suffer from ill effects few days later?" "They will notice that random, otherwise healthy people DIE all of a sudden"

There was a small pause in their dialogue, during which screams could be heard not far from there. The rollercoaster must have been activated again. Major Sherman's face had changed to a subtle smile during this pause. "Keep your voice low, Amnesia". Codename, as said out loud, caused Romy to finally react. It was a mix of surprise and trying to act normal. "If you're afraid that it gets investigated, then just make sure that it won't get anywhere if it makes you feel better. It's your duty, after all". Subtle smile was gone. Only "customer mode" remained, being only slightly faker than subtle smile had been. After all... fabrication his art. Envy's art.

Romy finally left, realizing herself how useless that conversation was. Meanwhile, Major Sherman continued on with serving customers. "So she's that concerned about human life? Or is that feeling just something she's trying to convince herself of? How foolish" The thought caused Major Sherman to smirk under the secrecy of his high collar.

"After all, there is nothing that can erase her past. No one can forget the Sturm Initiative"

[Hans L. Reinhardt]

This day was either going to go perfectly, or something was going to get screwed up. That was the way with most things. The Central City Festival promised to be a big enough event alone, but throw in two country leaders visiting and a Creig space spectacle... well, anything was possible. However, Hans was more-or-less ready for it. There was no use fretting over the situation; he suspected the women in charge, Csilla, was panicked enough. Luckily, he had graciously offer to handle all matters of diplomacy. The Xingese and Creig guests had been set up in lovely hotels and outside of each hotel that morning and had set a stretch limo denoting the country's flags, ready to bear the special guests to the festival at their convience. Hans himself was in charge of escorting Gavin and Qin to the festival. He was looking forward to spending time with his old friend, as well as getting to know better this new emperor. Brigitte, still struggling with a cold, was planning on going him at the festival shortly before the rocket demonstration.

The three powerful men were now altogether in the car, with Gavin and Qin on the opposite side of the seats, looking at Hans. He smiled at both of them. It was nearly noon, and the festival had been going for a couple of hours. Hans had determined that entering late was probably best, to avoid the crowds at the beginning of the day. First he looked at Qin, speaking politley in Xingese. “It really is an honor to have you here, Emperor. I hope you will enjoy our festival.” Turning, he then looked at Gavin. “And you, Your Highness. It is a great honor for you to showcase your country's scientific progress.” His words to Gavin had a small amount of mirth woven in; he found it so strange to talk formally to Gavin. The car was pulling up to the entrance to the festival and Hans sat up a little straighter. He was dressed casually today, in a dark blue sweater and cacky pants. Over it was a windbreaker, to keep him warm. Yet he still felt the urge to straighten a tie that wasn't there. “Gentlemen, I would love to escort you through our festival and then I encourage you to go about and enjoy the different festivities. Then we can rejoin for the showcase. I suspect your entourages will be following us shortly, if they have not already arrived.” Hans had instructed for a guard to be kept around Gavin and Qin until their respective guards had arrived at the festival. Safety first, after all!

The car rolled to a stop and Hans exited to cheers from the surrounding crowds waiting to enter. He waited for Gavin and Qin to exit from the car, pausing to take a couple photos for the various newspaper. Gesturing, he let Qin and Gavin walk through the entrance, paying from his own pocket their entrance fee. He gave an amusing wink to Shula in the ticket booth, before leading the two men to the various delights of the Central City Festival.

[Reila Tsukino]

POSTING ORDER:

Amestrian Militants > Special Guests (Creig Militants) > Sabotagers (Xingese Militants) > Customers > FREE FOR ALL

[Toss Ivanova]

Okay, first of all, it isn't a rocket; it's a state-of-the-art ship modeled with spaceflight capabilities. AND IT HAS A NAME. The name of said ship is The Fallacy, a bright red masterpiece. Destroyed once in combat (by no fault of the Kremlin), it was fixed up and fitted with an even greater system, fresh coat of paint, wax, new wheels, and pretty much new everything. One could pretty much smell the new wafting off it. It's first test run was glorious, smooth, the very definition of perfection, but because of that, its pilot was on edge. Toss was all eyes and all ears on his precious ship, waiting for Dunstan Hue to make the final preparations for take off. Gavin was nowhere in sight, but the King was definitely supposed to arrive at some point. The homunculus was all nerves and impatience, pacing like no other in the cold pressure.

Laughter glinted in the background behind him: roller coaster, ferris wheel, teacups, stands of every kind, joy dripping from the crowds. It was as if the war had never happened--as if in this moment everyone could just forget. He felt himself smile softly, but it wasn't like they (the Creigs) were anywhere near used to warfare. This display was the closest they had come to inciting any form of aggression whatsoever. This was a boast--an egotistical showcase of which he was the main attraction. Come one, come all. He rolled his eyes and slumped down against the cockpit, staring up at the afternoon sky. Sigh. There wasn't much to do, and he knew Iris was around somewhere. She'd spent about a month or something in Carraig with him off duty. It must be rough coming back to this country after all that shit. He frowned and hopped down, resigning himself to find her...somehow. Of course, the fact that he had her number and international service did not at all occur to him. It was pretty stupid, but he blindly took on the challenge, striding down the various walkways between the tents and stands. They were lucky it was such a mild day. He rubbed his arms adorned in the white jumper uniform of the Coróin, feeling it was still too thin against the mid-continent cold. He shrugged into his brown aviator jacket, folding his arms.

This was such a large event there'd be all sorts of people here beside Iris and the Amestrian Militants (who were running the show it seemed). He wondered briefly if there were any other homunculi lurking among all these people. He'd met a handful of them at once some time ago, but... At least Vanity wasn't around. God forbid. He shivered, trying to hide it by turning away and staring up at the ferris wheel. When was the last time he rode one of those? When he was five, six? Had Hanna ever been on one? He tapped his chin, trying to remember on occasion, but couldn't conjure one. Carraig had festivals all the time, yet they didn't look anything like Amestris'. Usually involved a lot more drinking. And was way more loud. More music. Kind of like a parade. Bagpipes and stuff. His ears bled just thinking about it.

Now where was Iris stationed? He stopped at a map to assess it, squinting at the tiny print written below each event. It didn't say anything about who ran what. Now that was unfair. Defeated, Toss stood there for a second, wondering if he should just go back. Dun would kill him if he didn't bring him back a beer. Moaning, he turned in the direction of the bar, wondering if they would even serve someone underage in their country. Wait, he was underage here, right? Didn't matter; he'd try anyway.

"'Ey, gimme sumthin' to go wouldya? Your favorite beer is fine. It's whatever." He slapped Amestrian money down on the table with a hefty tip, staring down the red-haired guy that looked way more Creig than the Creigitized Ishvallan ever would. "Keep the change."

[Dunstan Hue]

No, Dunstan grumbled under his breath, no he wasn't annoyed by being repeatedly corrected about calling the rocket a roc... calling "the state-of-the-art ship modelled with spaceflight capabilities." a rocket. And the name. Oh, the name. Fallacy? Fallacy?! Toss treat it like a vehicle, but Dunstan knew better. Machines needed to be treat with respect, with care and, in the Princess' case, with fear. The motorbike sat behind him, leant against the wall and chugging in a tone that sounded unhealthy to the outsider, but Dunstan knew it was jealousy. He was working on a machine other than her. He once had a theory that the Princess had a mind of her own, but now he was convinced it was true, and he had decided that 'she' only went wrong because she loved it when he put his hands on her. He couldn't blame her, he considered himself an irresistible being able to control the hormones of any woman he pleased, despite how far from the reality this was.

"Honey, I'm not cheating on you by working on another vehicle." He explained, before stopping himself. "I'm going insane, I'm talking to engines." A loud splutter from the Princess. "Well, maybe, but you're the one who falls apart just so I can fix you up."

The Fallacy stood above him, having the final preparations put onto it. He couldn't deny, it was a masterpiece. Mainly thanks to him. It was good before, but Dunstan was the one who tore out half of the engine and replaced it with even better (if illegal) parts, then reconnected them in ways that were not known to most engineers. He was quite reckless with his work, but only because he felt he could relax around engines. When his living was either making or defusing bombs, anything was a step down in terms of tension. Even with the great responsibility of this in terms of an international scale, Dunstan could only help but be a lot more chilled than the panicky Toss and any one of the Amestrians he had seen, all a ball of nerves. However, for now, his work was only checking everything was in working order. Which it was. Well, everything but one issue.

Dunstan was out of drink.

He knew Toss would get the order wrong. Whenever he got Dunstan a drink it was "One beer." "One lager." "One pint. One. One. ONE!" Not even bothering to close the engine panel, Dunstan steadily lowered himself onto his feet, and checked his pockets. "Bombs, back-up bombs, super back-up bombs, screwdriver and 'mystery grenade'... yeah, nothing's missing." And with that, Dunstan bolted towards the bar, knowing where it was. He wasn't a running man; he was kind of fat, and with at least enough bombs to take out all of Central City on his person at all times, he was always trying to keep his movements steady, but drink was far more important than the lives of millions, and he got to the bar in under a minute, simply kicking the door out of the way. Toss was already inside, ordering a beer, but Dunstan charged to the red-haired bartender.

"Don't get that beer." He demanded; Cretan was a sure-fire language, everyone spoke it, so he didn't feel bad about speaking it in Amestris. "I want two pints of stout, two shots of Baileys, a double measure of whiskey, all mixed together, and a bottle of vodka to go along the side." He hastily said, before looking back to Toss. "Yo. The Fallacy should be fine, though we'll want to get back quick; I left the Princess unsupervised, she might kill someone. He explained, before laughing heartily. He took a seat, a wide grin on his face. "Nah, the Princess is a motorbike, she can't kill anyone by herself, except for that one time when she did, but that's a story for another day. You excited about the trip?"

[Molly McCafferty]

"Alrighteh then~ Le's take it from the top~!" A bright and cheery voice emerged from a bright and cheery girl with bright and cheery BLINDINGLYREDHAIROHMYGAWD. Ahem... Anyways, yes, Molly stood at the front of the ensemble before her, the Crieg Militant Marching Band, of which she was ze CAPITAN! They were to set up a stage and provide prettiful music for people, so sayeth Gavin. Or she assumed Gavin said so. She had no idea, actually, anymore, before she forgooooooot. At any rate, the stage was all set, and they were about to begin, with their glorious orchestral renditions of songs Molly had picked out JUST for the occasion! A set of her favorite Amestrian tunes of all time, obviously. As the party had really just begun, they were taking one last quick rehearsal, now that they were on site, and it would ALSO be the start of the performance.

(~(Play Meeeeee~)~)

Clearing her throat, she stepped a bit closer to the mic, as she played her guitar, because yes. Multi-tasking! And she then began to sing, as was planned."
Hast Du etwas Zeit für mich~
Dann singe ich ein Lied fuer Dich~
Von neunundneunzeig Luftballons~
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont~
Denkst Du vielleicht grad' an mich~
Dann singe ich ein Lied fuer Dich~
Von neunundneunzeig Luftballons~
Und dass sowas von sowas kommt...~"

And so the song went, as she performed the first of many. Hmm... As she thought it over, MAAAAAYBEEEE 99 Luftballoons wasn't the best choice for the festival, considering their LAST festival... Whatwith innocent things turning into EXPLODING DEATH CHAOS. Errrmmm... COINCIDENCE. Not like it was going to happen again. Y'know, THEN it might be morbid irony. LUCKILY, it couldn't POSSIBLY happen that way again, right? Right? Right! Besides, it was a prettiful song, and if anyone was offended by it, then they could uh... Well, they could just... Um... NOT LISTEN TO IT. Yeah, that was that one thing that time they would all do! Not listen to it... Crap, she WANTED people to listen to it, not to not listen to it!


Hmmm... She was a rockstar, not a thinky-person! Molly decided that, rather than weighing out pros and cons of playing possibly bad song choices, and figuring out stuff, that she needed a drink. That, and she knew Toss would be at the bar, because psychic booze-reading powers and crap. That, and the fact that where there's a bar, she could usually find a Toss. So! To the bar it was!~ She merrily skipped there, of course, leaving the band to play on its own; it's not like they ABSOLUTELY needed her amazing guitar skills and singing, right? Nah, they'd be fine without her for a bit.

Approaching the bar, she was greeted by a nice sight. A bartender with hair that matched her own! They could melt the sun together if they wanted to! WITH HAIR LIKE THEIRS, THEY COULD SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. AND PUT IT OUT. WITH THEIR FIRE-HAIR. But that was unimportant. She also saw TOSS. Haha, the very person she'd come to see! Charging at him, per usual, she dove into her infamous flying tackle-glomp! Also, as was fairly common, he moved slightly to the side, as she wasn't exactly quiet when charging at someone, and so she bumped her head on the bar, but stood quickly, and hugged Toss anyways, because yeah. "Tossy, Tossy~ Found ya, I knew ye'd be at the bar!~ Hahaha~" Turning, with a grin to the barkeep, she slapped a bit of her Amestrian cash on the bar, sliding a few bucks to the side as a tip. " Margarita and a shot'o yer best Scotch, m'boy~" Turning, she saw nearby, a very sweaty-ish smelling fat guy with a ugles face, and- OH, SHE KNEW HIM!~ So she skipped over and hugged him too! "Hi!~ Umm... Danny...? No, no, I got it, uuuummm... Davey! No, no, no, not it, uuuh... Ay Dios mio, I'm as bad as Artemis..." OH! I got it!~ Hubert? Right...?" Names were hard. Plus, she was drunk and second-hand stoned when she'd met him, she couldn't remember his name from then! ALIBI!~ Grabbing her drink, she took a good sip, remembering half the reason she'd flopped into the bar anyways; for bar stuff! And stuff... Yeah!

[Roarke Moray]

Maybe... maybe he shouldn't have come. It wasn't like he had been expressly ordered to hop abroad a plane and fly to Amestris for some fancy-schmancy showcase. All of the other Creigs who were attending had damned good reason to. Except... maybe Molly. She brought along the entire Creig band for shits and giggles... or something. So who really knows? The point was, Roarke had no explicit reason for attending. Only that he really wanted to go out into the world again. Gradually the people of Carraig had heard word of the monstrous chimerae that was a part of their military. Those that saw him for the first time usually got shocked, frightened, curious or some strange mix of the three. He could almost have a normal life there, although he was still lonely. Not that he'd readily admit it. Smartass to the end, this one.

So here he was. He'd been given the dubious honor of guarding the rocket-mah-bob. What did that Toss guy call it? Fallacy or something. Whatever. The point was, Roarke was the extra security on the thing. The Amestrians had provided a guard around the launch area but Roarke was there to watch them and everyone else. It was a roundabout way to get human interaction without causing untold panic in the crowds. He had requested from Gavin (and received) a truck to lug him around, so he wouldn't have to run through the streets. He had been driven to the festival grounds in the morning and after he had wandered a little, he had went to the launchpad. It wouldn't do to remain, looking at all the rides that he could no longer fit on.

“Pull yourself together, man!” He grumbled to himself as he lounged on the grass by the launchpad. The Amestrian soldiers there had taken a start upon seeing him, but he'd managed to point out in his crappy Amestrian that he was a friend. The Creig patch on his blue cape definitely helped show he was supposed to be there. The conversation wasn't all that thrilling, but there were one or two who spoke some Cretan. It wasn't all bad. Didn't change the fact that he was BORED. And getting hungry. Toss and Duncan had disappeared, which was a bummer. He wandered over to one of the soldiers who he knew spoke Cretan. “Hey, can you do me a favor? Grab me some food? I've got... this!” He dug around in the calamity of a pocket in his pants, which had a nice note from Gavin stating that the bearer of said ticket would have their food provided on the king's tab. It was Gavin's way of helping out the lug who had trouble holding onto Amestrian money. Kenny looked at the ticket and then nodded. “Sure... what do you want?” “Hamburgers. Lots of hamburgers. I promise you're superior officer you were just following orders from the guests. Pleeeeeeeeeease?” Roarke pleaded, a very large, toothy grin across his face at Kenny. Kenny nodded again, his eyes widening a little at the sharp teeth in his face. “SWEET,” Roarke roared, doing a back flip out of pure amusement. FOOD! This day was starting to look up.

[Gavin Etheridge]

The Amestrian Festival. In the past years, such an event wasn't something that ever really made the news, or something that outside nations particularly cared about. Sure, there might have been some advertising near the borders of Creta if they were working on a cease-fire and trying to not kill each other briefly, but that was about as far as it really extended. Carraig was a small island off the northern coast of Creta, and for ages had been enemies with, well, everyone. Carraig was surrounded by harsh mountains and thick woods, with short growing seasons all crested with the cold salt spray of the ocean. They were warriors who sold their services to other nations to win their wars, and and fought off other nations from invading them for as long as anyone could remember. Very nearly, a few nations won. Nearly. But in the end Carraig was always her own again, and the people maintained that no good came of the mainlands other than their coin. War is good for business.

Times had changed, and after Carraig declared her neutrality, clientele had changed also. That last alliance with Rouen had pushed it since that nearly cost Carraig her freedom forever. No, no good came of the mainland or the other island nations, save for their money, and their imports. Creig mercenaries being rented to other armies became a less-often done thing as they paved the way in secret to become something greater than the rest of the world would guess. Yes, they needed the other countries in order to survive, but in the end, one day those countries would need Carraig, and nobody could say if Carraig would answer the call or not. In their seclusion, technology flourished, and slowly was introduced to the rest of the world. It wasn't fair to make all the best toys and then not share a little; governments were run by such children and going to war to see what the sheep-laden nation was working on day and night was a good motivation to placate them. They'd export their shiny new goods and share the technology and bigger and better weapons for a shiny fee, and the world was fine with that trade. They didn't have to know that Carraig still had all the best toys; they were too happy with their safer versions and hand-me-downs.

That secret technology lived alongside the heartbeat of the island now as King Gavin nurtured it, watching it become something incredible. His people worked in the factories that built the machines that would drive the future, designed weapons that could drive out any enemy force in a blink, or in the case of this expose at the Amestrian Festival, touch the stars. It was unheard of. Lunacy, in the most literal sense of the word. Carraig had spent too much time isolated and lost touch with reality! Gavin had heard it all. But he knew better. Carraig had the technology that the rest of the world wasn't really ready for or knew how to understand. Today, they'd get a taste. Just a small sampling of what the future could bring. No, Gavin wouldn't show them just how far they'd really come or what his star pilot could really do, but they'd get a great teaser. It was a little more attention that Carraig was used to getting, and certainly not everyone was okay with it. But these were hard times in the world, and Carraig too was feeling the pinch; showing up on Hans' invitation and sharing part of what was shiny would get new accounts. New investors, and research groups, funding would flow into the tiny island that knew the secrets of how to put people into space, even on the moon! Profit and trades would increase from the severe decline they'd suffered since the mainland began devouring itself.

Hair pulled back into a pony tail, Gavin rode with Hans and the new Emperor of Xing. He was dressed rather casually, the sweater over his jeans not looking more regal than anyone else save for the plaid sash that ran across his chest and the glinting brooch that bore the family's crest. Toss would already be there for sure, pampering and fawning over the Fallacy, and Roarke had been asked to go and assist in its protection. Gavin had Artemis and Rosaleen, too, and Molly would be there.... entertaining the Amestrians. He wondered if they'd find her overly exuberant perkiness charming or terrifying; depending on what time of morning it was, it could go either way. “Zhè zhēn de shì hěn róngxìng yǒu nǐ zài zhèlǐ, huángdì. Wǒ xīwàng nǐ huì xǐhuan wǒmen de jiérì," Hans said to the Emperor. Probably something general and friendly. He glanced to his temporary guard, knowing that things were fine but feeling something was Amiss without Artemis at his side. “And you, Your Highness. It is a great honor for you to showcase your country's scientific progress.” Gavin smirked slightly. It always felt weird to hear Hans refer to him so formally, but this was a closed space and proper. Still weird and funny, but proper.

They exited the car, Gavin looking around. Tall, hastily built rides; rows of poorly-constructed but made to look nice food booths; people in staff jackets smiling through their teeth in a way that dripped with a saccharine disdain for humanity as it walked through the gates.... Yup. Same song, different tune, though maybe it was just as quiet as it was due to the early hour. “Gentlemen, I would love to escort you through our festival and then I encourage you to go about and enjoy the different festivities. Then we can rejoin for the showcase. I suspect your entourages will be following us shortly, if they have not already arrived.” Gavin nodded, looking at the slowly pooling and trickling crowds for either of the two women he preferred to see first. The temporary guard could take a day off; few things in the world were more trained than Artemis, and while he understood it, her Amestrian was far more fluent than his.

Gavin pulled the aide from his belt, switching the language mode and typing slowly. It was such a harsh language. Beautiful in its own right, and very intimidating to listen to, like Drachman. But Creig had a gentle, musical fluidity and melodic quality that carried the words up and down. "Thank you Chancellor," the aid pumped out. The voice recorded for the Amestrian speaker was different than his Creig and oft-used Cretan; the tone was a warm baritone, and while it was nice to listen to, it didn't match the King's body at all. It was what it was, though. Gavin changed screens, opting to send a message to Artemis. She'd be nearby, surely, but not having her at his side... Especially for a festival. What fun was going on roller coasters alone? Artemis.... Just arrived with Hans, so I'm near the entrance. The screen switched back to speaking Amestrian as he smiled faintly "And thank you for inviting Carraig here to showcase. I'm sure it will be something to remember." He walked along with Hans and Qin, idly looking around and vaguely wondering when they could drop the formalities and have a pint and a sausage on a stick.

[Guest]

She had sulked the whole flight there.... Curled in her seat nursing glasses of free champagne while pouting. For months she had been excited about this festival...when Fia was meant to be joining them. The idea of doing something nice with the man had been all that occupied her mind for months. But then...Fia retired and moved away. Seamus going with him with his mother for time to get to know his father...to recover from what ever he had done to himself. The boy seemed to be hiding most of the facts from anyone. Only letting slip that it was some forum of Alkhestry.

But....This left the gap between them wide and though Artemis trusted the other....she couldn't help but be jealous of Seamus's mother...Fia's old flame being so close to him. After all...the two had a son together and history...Artemis could never give Fiachra a child....and her duty most likely ruled out any wedding or family and old age together....no...she would ultimately have to throw her life away to protect Gavin. Part of her hated Gavin for that....as much as she loved him with all her being....she would always resent that she had to sacrifice everything for him and duty....and she hated herself for it.

Downing the bubbly alcohol as the plane landed Gavin was escorted to a car and taken to Han's. She was not permitted to follow and instructed to oversee everything being unloaded. Sighing she sat on a box and watched. Things were unloaded and such. Her trusty rifle on her back as she twirled a strand of red hair she spied there star of the show sneaking off.

Frowning she followed before spotting him enter the bar. Huffing she stormed after him. "Tass!" Hands rested on hips making her bouncy assets move with more energy. Tight leather shorts low on hips showing more skin then a lady should. "I doubt you should be drinking before flying." She scolded snatching the pint from his hand and choosing to down it herself. Taking violent gulps before slamming the glass down on the counter. The red headed bar man smiled with a wicked gleam to his eyes before placing a complementary drink in front of her. Blinking she frowned at Toss. "What are you doing in the bar anyway?" Her face flushed from the alcohol as she sipped the strong beverage the man gave her. Her head spinning a bit. The strong tasting amber liquid made her shudder as its liquid fire settled in her stomach. A double shot? Maybe more? A strong taste to it reminding her of almost bruising fingers on her skin and hot breaths. "I miss Fia..." She wibbled clinging to the Homunculous. "I bet that woman's opening her legs to him...." She whined in a child like voice clinging to the other. "That's my job!!!"

[Rosaleen Quinn]

"You really should have gone with the rose shirt with those ruffles and the skirt with--" "Oh for the love of.... Please leave me be! I'm not going to go change now, there's no time. Besides, I need to be able to move about if necessary." Rosaleen murmured quietly to the maid that had been assigned to her after.... well.... After the news of Rachel's coronation hit their homeland of Carraig. She had no idea who had done it, though she had some ideas, or why in the world they would do such a thing. She was a member of the Faolchú! Not some pampered princess that was being courted by their King. And she was a grown woman! She could take care of herself! She was sure there was many a girl whom would love this sort of opportunity, but Rosaleen was less than thrilled. The woman's name was Beatrice. Beatrice... something. She did regret not remembering the poor woman's last name. She was well meaning and earnest in her job! She was also just so damned infuriating.

"Very well Ms. Quinn. I do see your point, but they would have just...." With a "look" from the guard, the maid fell silent and sighed, folding her hands in front of her skirt. Ripple after ripple flowed up her body to her eyes, painting a black and white picture for her as she stood there before the gates to the Amestrian festival, an ocean of people before her. God... She could barely distinguish one person from another there were so many! There were plenty of Creig militants here to guard Gavin but... Rosaleen couldn't help but worry. This was still a mass of... the masses. Taking a deep breath, she could already smell the festival food with its frying, sizzling, sugar, and general deliciousness. The creaking of various rides, ringing of the gaming stalls, the shuffles of excited people eager to head inside. Unlike the sea of people, Rosaleen was off on the side in a designated area, awaiting the arrival of her king. She was surprised when this morning Beatrice told her that she was to travel separately from Gavin, and when she asked why she didn't have an answer. Was this Brendon's doing? Or Mary? Or was it simple dignitary protocol? She certainly wasn't some important person with a big household and mansion on a hill. She was quite the opposite really when she stopped and thought about it a little.

Ack, but that was something for another time. As for now, Rosaleen straightened up more as the annoucement was made that the gates were opening, "watching" as the sea surged forward in a giant wave and dispersed into the festivities. For today, the guard was wearing a white lace edged under-shirt with a red under-bust tied tight across about her middle. A white and red jacket hugged about her shoulders, a ribbon tying it closed beneath her breasts. It was an almost renaissance jacket combined with military sentimentality, its back in the style of a waistcoat. Black fitted pants clothed her legs, thigh high brown boots coming up just over her knee. Adjusting the gloves on her wrists, she still wished she could have been allowed to strap her spear to her back just in case she might need it. She had had to argue about being given a firearm as a "just in case" measure, reminding them time and again that guns were iffy at best with her now. Just because she used to be an amazing sniper did NOT mean that she was one now. In the end she had refused to carry any sort of weapon despite her own personal preferences to the contrary. Anything she could use was large and cumbersome in crowds, not to mention potentially nerve wracking for the general populace.

"Ms. Quinn, we can go in now. Shall we wait for m'lord there?" Beatrice's voice snapped Rosaleen out of her thoughts, straightening up a little bit as she blinked and turned towards her maid. With a soft smile, she nodded once and began to follow her inside. "You know Beatrice, you don't have to follow me around. You are welcome to go investigate and enjoy yourself." She spoke as she turned her head towards a fresh wave of the distinctive odor of corn dogs. Mmmm corn dogs... Maybe she should stop there first once she'd ditched her chaperone. The maid flustered up and puffed up like a chicken, "I could not do that!" Now Rosaleen turned and leaned forward a bit, leaving a few inches between her and Beatrice's face, a sweet and almost motherly sort of smile on her lips. But it wasn't necessarily one of those nice mother smiles, it was one of those, 'you-aren't-listening-to-me' sort of ones. "I insist you do. If you are going to try to turn me into one of those noble women, then you forget I am a member of our military." Straightening up again, Rosaleen pointed off into the depths of the festival even as she herself remained off to the side of the entrance on the inside. "As your superior officer, I order you to go have a good time!"

Beatrice sputtered as she stared, flabbergasted at Rosaleen, but she merely gathered up her skirts and hurried off, leaving the guard FINALLY alone. Much better, She thought to herself as she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, nodding ever so slightly to herself before making a beeline for wherever those corn dogs were. It turned out that the stall was right nearby past a couple of gaming stalls and a sugar shop if she was any judge. Moments later, she was meandering down the main road of the festival at a rather slow pace, keeping her senses piqued in case Gavin was nearby. She did pause beside one of the vendors to examine their wares, a bunch of delightful little knick-knacks that she would probably have no use for ever. "--inviting Carraig here to showcase. I'm sure it will be something to remember." Her head turned as she slowed beside a vendor, turning towards the familiar choppiness of the speaking aid, her brows furrowing in concentration. The sheer amount of things going on made it a bit difficult for her echolocation to retain excellent accuracy, putting off her next bite into her corn dog as she scanned through the various shapes of people flowing about her. Oi.... NOW Beatrice would have been helpful to have around since she had functioning eyeballs.

Just as she was about to turn a bit more, she caught "sight" of a familiar ponytail and sash, her feet carrying her a bit closer so that the details could be stronger. Success! It was Gavin! Relief flooded through her as she stepped forward to meet him, the Chancellor, and Emperor that traveled with him. With a final step up to them, she saluted them all, but smiled when she got to Gavin. "Emperor. Chancellor. A pleasure to see you both again. I hope I'm not intruding." Her Amestrian sounded rusty to her ears, but she was confident she had at least said the words even if her pronunciation was a bit off. "Hello Gavin." She fell into step beside Gavin, resisting the temptation to take his hand since this was a relatively formal occasion for them.

*If you are interested in her outfit.... Here

[Reila Tsukino]

POSTING ORDER:

Amestrian Militants > Special Guests (Creig Militants) > Sabotagers (Xingese Militants) > Customers > FREE FOR ALL

GET WITH THE PROGRAM.

[Guest]

Ahhhh a festival day.... Wei Zhao Han absolutely ADORED festival days, and he could never get enough of them! They were never often enough. With their bright colors, happy smiles, and general bouncy atmosphere. But most important of all the wonderful things at festivals were the fireworks. OHhhhh yes, the FIREWORKS. It was one of the few days where fireworks were welcomed and expected at any point during the year, which meant Wei could finally show off all of the various formula's and designs that he had come up with. For once he didn't need to find an excuse to set them off (other than the off-handed childish override of his senses that made him shoot them off back home in a fit of excitement). He could give the people wonderment and gasps and cries with his display of the wonders of chemistry and explosions. Ahhhhh...... There really weren't any better opportunities than this. After all, a festival was not a good festival unless it had amazing fireworks. It was the icing on the cake, the carrot nose on a snowman, the star on top of a Christmas tree! Just picture it: You wander through a festival, getting cotton candy and funnel cake, you partake in all of the entertainment provided, and then... you get to the main event. It's dark out now, and you stand at the field staring up into the clear, starry night, awaiting what you know will come. And then... it didn't happen. God, the very image of such a horror sent shivers of terror down his spine. No, no, no, that would not do at all. And so, fireworks would be had.

At the moment, the young clan leader was humming happily to himself as he finished up with the final preparations for his beloved little children (pyrotechnic children that is), a bright and chipper smile upon his lips. "The road goes ever on and on..." He sang softly to himself in a deep baritone, head bobbing side to side in his absolutely content. His shaggy, shoulder length brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, its tail bushing outward as spikey as ever. He had long since attempted to make it lay flat and smooth like most peoples did. He brushed aside his bangs though they fell in front of his eyes more with each passing second, their hue a sparkling blue of a clear ocean with only a hint of the green of the fauna beneath the waves. His beard was trimmed, but still a scruff nonetheless. Rather than his normal relaxed garb, Wei Zhao was wearing a deep purple collared shirt of a comfy fabric that left the top button undone so he could have the freedom to breath. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his black jacket resting over a nearby chair. Black slacks covered his legs with comfortable black boots supporting his feet. Yes, he was dressed for comfort and discretion today, none of the distinctive clothes that he usually wore.

Straightening up once his handy work was done, he admired it with a smile to himself, nodding once in satisfaction to himself as he gathered up his things, slinging the bag over his shoulder with a light sigh. Mmm, yes. This was excellent. He wandered away from the mainstage, knowing full well what was to come further along during the glorious day that it was. Did he honestly buy into this? Well.... if it helped his country then sure. But his focus for the day was on what he had just finished setting up, his mind now relaxing as his feet carried him into the various stalls that were set up for the entertainment of the masses. He continued to hum to himself as he lit up his long pipe, as mindful as possible as the crowds around him, straying off to a smoking designated area so as not to ruffle anyones feathers. There were children here after all! With his black jacket of his arm, he sat down on a bench and puffed in those delicious fumes, those blue-green eyes watching the families and patrons that were enjoying their day. Oh they should wait... just wait until later... Then the real entertainment would be had.

[Alisa Donnikova]

"Ma'am, there are designated area's for smoking." "Yea, yeah, I'm putting it out." A tall mixed woman mumbled to one of the Amestrian militants standing at the entrance gates, taking one last puff before she flicked the stub into the streets to let it putter out on its own. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her pants, she sighed heavily and wandered in through the masses that jostled and bounced together around her. Children screaming, parents chastising, vendors shouting, sounds upon sounds all around her. For fucks sake was this going to be as fucking terrible as she knew it was going to be? God dammit. She was just lucky they hadn't done a full pat down or else they might have found a questionable amount of aluminum, smokes, and the flask that she had hidden in her coat pocket. She was wearing solid black tights, her ripped to hell shorts slipped over them and her usual black combat boots on her feet (slightly unlaced as per her preference). On her top she wore a black turtleneck sort of shirt with three quarter length sleeves, its base hugging close about two ribs down from her breasts. Her fingerless gloves were on her hands, a black, beaten up leather jacket tugged about her shoulders. Her brown hair was pulled back into its normal ponytail, bangs hanging on either side of her face with some stubbornly brushing the tops of her eyelids, the eyes that stared out at everyone less than enthused.

There were a lot of things that Alisa Donnikova hated, and festivals were one of them. A lot of people in a single location, lots of things going on, and the potential to get your ass robbed or dragged off and killed was high. She hated these events, but not nearly as much as she hated hospitals. At least she could tolerate being here by getting lost in stupid things like haunted houses or the game stalls, hell maybe some booze if the rumors of a bar held true. This was Amestris, they had to have booze somewhere. Her boots thudded against the pavement as her eyes slid over each next booth of some kind of game or whatever the fuck it was they had at festivals, ignoring the happy family of three that was next to her. Fuck them and their happiness. Just fuck it. There had never been any kind of fun events like this in Drachma. Not in that hellhole of a city called Moscow. If it had been somewhere, it had been elsewhere and out of her reach. Xing was the same goddamn deal. That was a country she hadn't been to yet, and she wasn't planning on going there any time soon.

As she moved past the entrance, she noticed a man wandering around with the King of Carraig and the Chancellor of Amestris, her eyebrow raising as she kept moving. That was definitely the Emperor of Xing. Speak of the fucking devil and he would fucking appear. Shaking her head slightly to herself, she kept moving, though towards where she had NO idea whatsoever. Should she look for a bar? She had heard there was going to be one, so where the hell-- She slowed in her step as she could hear the popping of a shooting stall off to her left, chocolate depths straying over to it as she pondered if she felt like shooting something. Smirking, she chuckled to herself and sighed, already wanting to light up another damned death stick. Just as she was starting to turn, she paused as she noticed the rides that were off towards her right, the screams of elation from one of the rides stabbing into her ear. Goddamn teacups. Nah, she could shoot later when her frustration levels were about bursting. Ah fuck it. Reaching into an outer pocket, she pulled out her pack of smokes and slipped one between her lips, lighting up with a sigh of relief as the tar began to fill her lungs.

Deciding to explore more, Alisa continued towards those annoying fucking squeals, glancing about boredly since she probably knew very few people there. Shula was probably here. Which meant... Spade was probably here. As she turned her head back towards the right, she was passing by the tea cups, eyes starting to glide over the booth when she immediately stopped mid-step. She knew that figure hiding in that cramped little space, looking as miserable as ever. Her heart pounded its drum once before she took a deep drag on her cig before striding over to the booth, the nicotine soothing her nerves quite perfectly. Ever since they had spoken, she was actually... alright. She hadn't been as.... unstable. Hell, she didn't know what the fuck to call it. She just knew that she had been a fucking nutjob for a while there and she was only returning to regular levels NOW. About fucking time. Hoping over the fence, she knocked on the doorframe as he seemed to be staring at nothing, a smirk rising to her lips as one hand rested on her hip. "Oi, oi. Someone needs a drink." She spoke to him, the words managing to come from somewhere in the ether. Fuck... She really was getting better.

[Peyton]

Peyton was having a bit of trouble maneuvering her way through the festival. There were hundreds of people, and her huge and bloated belly was not helping her one bit. Not to mention the delicate and precious cargo she was carrying inside that huge and bloated belly. Her child, which was over eight months along. Thankfully, people were considerate and tried their best not to ram into her or bump her stomach.

Even though Peyton was pretty huge right now, she felt incredibly small in this big festival. Especially without her boyfriend at her side. Marcus wasn't able to come due to his work. This didn't stop Peyton from going. She had to see this break through in modern science. It was a must! The doctors had warned her that it might not be good for her to travel in her condition, but she demanded to go. Plus, she wasn't due for another week or so. Peyton was sure that as long as she stayed away from the food and rides here, she'd be just fine.

So, the young pregnant woman continued to waddle around the fairgrounds. She was looking for that glorious machine. The rocket. Peyton did find herself getting a bit lost, though. She had been stubborn at the entrance and refused a map, insisting that she could find her way around without the aid of one. Boy was she dead wrong. Peyton grumbled and hopped up on her toes, trying to see over the huge waves of people. People that were taller than her. So many tall people.

The walking around soon started to exhaust her. It was best she took a little break and rest. She didn't want to overexert herself, for the baby's sake. So Peyton found a bench and plopped down onto the seat. The wood creaked gently as she settled in. Peyton leaned back and watched contently as people wandered around. It was noisy, but in a nice way. A peaceful kind of noisy you could say. Although some would call it chaotic, Peyton considered it calm. There were a lot worse things to get noisy about after all.

[Shinku Kamogaya]

The assortment of tools for this grand show were quite simple, yet were clever.


-Professionally Forged Security badge
-Signal activated shape charge
-Foldable crutch
-Mechanic jumpsuit
-The Dual Talons
-Cellphone
-Dossiers on all high ranking officials
-Detonator x2

As he carried the duffle bag full of equipment, he tinkered with the security clearance badge attached to the navy blue jumpsuit. It was uncomfortable, but he had to put on a show. As he put his gloves on, he strolled up to the designated launch pad. He could see the craft from the outside, and he was quite impressed. The Criegs were always known across the globe for their hardware, and despite the cost, he purchased weapons from them all the time.

As he strolled up to the security clearance, he flashed the badge to the guard, proceeding to step through. An arm reached out and blocked him, as the large man spoke in Amestrian."Hey there, pal. The mechanic who looked over the Fallacy was just here. Just who the hell are you?"Shinku sighed as he pinched his nose in frustration. Let's just hope his act was convincing.

"I'm the guy who checks all the system diagnostics and wiring to make sure the craft is safe. The other guy just check on the mechanical components, and I have to check it before launch and you guys keep holding me up!" The security officer had a dumbfounded look on his face, and he was none the wiser. Letting him proceed, he made his way to the craft, noting the "FALLACY" decal on the side. He chuckled to himself, as he laid down and shimmied under the craft. The Xingese intelligence department gave him most of the information the craft's specifications, but it was minute info at that. The Criegs were good at concealing their secrets. As he brought the black duffle bag with him underneath, he found a hatch. As he opened it, he was greeted to a whole mess of wires and clamps.

Reaching into the duffle bag, he took out a brick shaped object. It was a shaped charge, and it would direct the somewhat small, lethal blast towards the fuel tank. He wanted this craft to crash and burn onto the earth below, and he wanted the civilians to see the carnage. He felt bad for the pilot for a moment, only to shake the thought and smile. Planting the charge, he slowly closed the hatch with a thud, making his way out. As he left the launch pad, the security guard spoke once more."That was awfully quick." Stopping in his tracks, he looked back at the man with a forced smile. "It's pretty easy when you know when you know what you're doing. Nothing to it." As he continued walking, he waved back at the guard and his co workers. He proceeded to make his way to one of the bathrooms that were set up, entering the men's room with the duffel bag.

Entering the stall, he waited until he heard no more activity in the bathroom. Unzipping the jumpsuit, he proceed to take out his other set of attire; a red leather duster, sage green military cargos, black combat boots, his pistol holsters and the two pistols he carried on him. He swapped the jumpsuit as he took out what looked like a folded crutch and a roll of bandages. No one would suspect a bandaged, disabled man, would they? putting on the shoulder/back holsters and putting the pistols back home, he put on the duster, pants, and boots. He also retrieved what looked like the remote for an RC car. The special thing about it was the xingese symbols embossed into the metal frame of the detonator. Chuckling, he put the spare in his pocket and gripped the other with his reflective chimeric arm. He stopped to stare at his new arm, that was replaced when his new lord gave him this beastly power. It looked shiny and had the skin texture of a frogs, and was blue in color. breaking out of his trance, he covered his arm with the sleeve, his arm concealed from glancing views. The two detonators were concealed in the pockets of the duster. The only thing left was concealment.

He took the roll of bandages and began to liberally wrap around his head. The only thing visible was his vibrant sky blue eyes. With the transformation complete, he opened the vent that sat above the vent. Lifting up the duffel bag, he put the bag in and closed it. Unfolding the crutch, he placed it under his right arm, as he hobbled out.

As he limped through the festival, getting looked of curiosity from a lot of participants, he reached into his pocket and drew his extra cellphone. The green haired man, what was his name, Kelly? He was nice enough to provide enough information about the people here. Looking through the dossiers, he came to a stop

Sakuya "Spade" Aeries

His face cringed in anger underneath his bandages, as he saw there was a number for contact, particularly a cellphone number. A small grin formed as he entered in the number and started a new text towards the hated man.

Spade, It's important you need to see this. Meet me by the launch pad. SK

He didn't give his name, only a hint. He wanted his prey to squirm at the fact that his life was torn apart from the shadows and he couldn't fight back. As he continued walking, he spotted a particular booth around the corner which peaked his interest.

It was the teacups, and there he was. The rage barreled through his head like a bull in a china shop, but he didn't want to kill him just yet. He would ruin him. He would make his way past the booth, laying in wait for the man, and the woman that had joined his company, to leave. Seeing the man who destroyed his life gave him an idea..

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