2020-02-04 - Contractual Obligations

Beth's head is tilted down as she stares at the glow of her phone. Shen she looks back up from the screen her eyes widen in alarm and she turns her head from one side and then to the other. After mouthing 'What the fuck?' to herself silently she slips her phone into her jeans pocket and looks at the packet of papers that have materialized in her hand. The post-it note is regarded with the expression of someone who is already tired of this shit. Her lips press out into a thin line and she lets out and aggravated puff of air through her nostrils before she begins flipping through the paperwork. In her line of work there is never a shortage of paperwork. She may not be familiar with this application, but she has a familiarity in general.

It may be the early evening, but Byron's work is never done. Seated in his home office back at the penthouse behind his desk, he's chatting with one of his business associates, a chef and restaurant owner in Honolulu, as he types away details of their agreement out on his laptop. "It shouldn't be long now." He starts off, at first settled back against his black leather executive office chair before leaning in forward to scroll through various opened files to gain further info to share. "Some time next week, I believe. Mmhmm. That's right. I was thinking we could open up a branch of your restaurant there."

Once he finds what he's looking for, those coal dark eyes of his lift and that's when he realizes that he's not in his office anymore. In fact, the desk he was seated at is gone and so is his laptop. He wasn't even sitting, now finding himself standing in some kind of line with a... book in hand. It's not difficult to see the madness going on around him in the form of these crazy lines and the tellers working the desks. So while he's curious about it all, his attention is drawn to the book, opening it up and flipping through it while cautiously eyeing the individuals ahead of him in the line, though he's more curious about the person, thing handling... his eyes catch sight of a sign nearby, "Fee Settlement?" Curious about the thing handling the Fee Settlements. Quickly, his sharp eyes dart back to the hardbound book to try and figure out exactly why he's here.

Vyv's head is likewise tilted down, though in his case when he straightens up there's a set of keys in the hand not holding the paper. And a startled expression on his face, because there was an entire patisserie there a breath ago, and not-quite-a-year isn't long enough to get entirely blase about a sudden change of reality like that. Not-quite-30-years is plenty for the second reaction to be, "Ah, lovely, just the evening I had in mind."

The keys are tucked away and the queue and surroundings given a quick-- okay, slightly slower, how is this line actually working and what are those other presumably-people? -- look around, enough to decide there probably isn't immediately imminent danger and move on to examining the paper he definitely wasn't holding a minute ago.

Rebecca was working on Vyv's schedule for tomorrow and just got up to get it off her printer when she finds herself in this place. She blinks owlishly a few times, turning a full 360 to look at the place she has suddenly appeared. She spots her boss in another crazy line and waves a hand at him in alarm. She looks down at the papers in her hand for some sort of clue as to what on Earth (or not as the case seems to be) she is supposed to be here for.

Beth does not know who Bithamblir Lazlow Domestics are. She also doesn't care if they get the opportunity to replace 'presumed catacombs' that are unoccupied with fancy apartment buildings. So she does the sensible thing and steps out of the line. Sorry Bithamblir Lazlow Domestics, but Beth needs her eyes and liver. She begins looking for a trash can in order to dump the documents in before it dawns on her that she should probably check and make sure the contract doesn't have her name or her signature on it. The papers are flipped through yet again.

"Jesus." Byron mutters in annoyance under his breath as he realizes just how much information he'll have to sift through in this one book. Turning back to the first page to better gauge exactly what this all entails, he comes across that slip of paper which informs him that he's standing in line due an alleged breach of contract. "Great." He says in that same irritated yet quiet tone.

At first, he flips ahead more slowly to better determine the details of this contract to learn just exactly how it was breached. There's another look flashed over to the figures ahead of him in the line, when he murmurs, "I can't believe I'm even taking the time to look at this shit." More pages are turned.

There's is a point where he has a better understanding of what's written within the tome and with this in mind, he skips on ahead, catching sight of, well, things which would not hold much water if this were an actual case. But this isn't their reality, so while he might pull out a pen from out of his suit jacket pocket to highlight some of these things, he has a sinking feeling that it won't matter.

As he does this, he can't help but catch sight of a few familiar faces, namely two of his tenants-- Vyv and Rebecca. There's no smile or wave on his part and he'll only take the briefest of moments to perhaps try to make eye contact out of acknowledgement. He has work to do.

Vyv catches sight of Rebecca's wave and blinks as well. He lifts the paper slightly and a brow a bit less so, "Shouldn't you be handling this for me?" Genuinely difficult to tell whether that's a joke. He might not know. A curious glance to what she's holding reminds him he was just checking out his own paper, and he returns his attention to it, taking an absent step forward as his line moves slightly, and then stopping short and rereading the thing. A pause. "Nnno. I don't think so."

He looks up again, noticing Byron this time and perhaps managing that brief acknowledgement, but the actual attention is on looking for anything suggesting he can't simply not have this thing notarized. The paper's turned over for another look; has he even signed it? Is there any indication of... well, anything the first look didn't reveal?

Rebecca looks a bit startled at seeing her own name on this contract. "You're on your own with whatever that is, Chef. I think we may be in real trouble. I do not want to be here," she murmurs, as if she can 'there's no place like home' herself right out of this nightmare. She begins trying to go more deeply into reading the contract, looking for what sort of memories are being foreclosed on and what the cost would be to keep them. She's in black slacks and a pale blue cashmere sweater with heels. She was clearly working when this relocation occurred.

A pallid-faced man in line behind Beth gives her a sour look for stepping out of line. "Coward," he mutters, wringing his hands. "Sure, you've got spare eyes and liver to offer up. I've just got these!"

The woman behind Vyv--she seems to be some kind of harpy, with blue and gray feathers--is peering over his shoulder. She gasps, stares at him. "Does she know?" the harpy purrs. "That you're an Aaaaaartist?"

The man in line in front of Vyv--er, the clockwork automaton in bronze--turns and stares at him. "Are you? A Maestro? I thought Maestros were forbidden to marry."

Some of the memories Rebecca is being foreclosed on include her first love, first use of the Art, and her favorite childhood memory.

Byron finds himself at the teller. They're the least insectoid of the bunch, holding out a single, six-fingered hand for the book. "Have you brought your payment?" they ask in a voice that buzzes and clicks. There's a little black glass rectangle on the counter in front of Byron; the teller gestures. "Place your ID mark there please."

Beth finds her name in the document so she decides the document will be destroyed. Can't get her eyes and liver if there is now contract, now can you?! She begins pulling the pages with her name on them out and starts tearing those pages up, careful that it is her name that gets the brunt of the destruction. When she is called a coward she lets out an unamused huff and continues destroying the contract. She probably looks like a crazy person standing there rending it all apart, but she's fine with that. Really.

All the while as Byron waits in line, his ire continuing to rise, he's highlighting and dog-earing several paragraphs and pages, all while writing a few notes in his own personal little notebook that he tends to carry on his person for those moments where entrepreneurial suddenly hit him. In this notepad, he also writes down tidbits of what should be pointed out and on which page that can be found on.

Then before too long he realizes that is the next person in line. A careful consideration is given this teller, taking visual cues from its appearance, speech and body language. Not that any of it would help. It's a Veil creature of sorts. "I'm here to dispute this claim of breach of contract." Byron Thorne is no lawyer, but he's worked with enough contracts to somewhat gauge the language being used in order to seek out the fine print and read between the lines.

Rather than place the book into the square, he's ready to flip through pages and produce notes, but this was just a teller, thus he has a feeling that the person he speaks to now may need to escalate this whole mess. Then again, he could be wrong. This was part of a Veil or Dream after all.

"Apparently, I'm betrothed," Vyv remarks Rebecca-ward, and might actually have been about to ask what her considerably more intense-looking paperwork is if it weren't for being addressed by his queuemates. "If you can tell by looking, then I would have thought so," he says to the harpy, the automaton getting a briefer, "Mm," though he's not entirely thrilled with that 'forbidden' bit, whether he actually wants to do it or not. His lips purse. "Well. There's clearly been some sort of mistake. This is quite obviously out of the question." His eyes flick to the paper again. "And I think they've miswritten the name of my marquisat. Certainly I can't have this notarized." He inclines his head to the pair of them slightly, and seems inclined to leave the line, but pauses briefly: where actually is there to go from here?

Rebecca scowls deeply. "Well they certainly aren't getting any of that from me. Now, what do I owe to stop the foreclosure?" She looks to the person behind her to see if they can help. "What does this bank want?" she asks, flashing the papers at them just in case they have some idea of what she owes and why. "I don't recall taking out any sort of loan from any bank, ever!"

She looks back at Vyv. "Apparently I took out some sort of loan with my memories as collateral!" She is incensed, clearly.

Beth presses her lips into a thin line again when her contract begins to re-assemble itself. "Of course." She says aloud, her foot tapping in irritated impatience as she waits for it all to reassemble. Once it is all back together she stalks back towards the line. To the man who called her a coward earlier she says, "Well, I didn't agree to this in the first place. I'll be damned if I'm giving up my liver or my eyes." She crosses her arms over her chest and stands in line with a stone-faced expression.

My ID Mar-- Byron's asks silently before he stashes both the book and the notepad beneath one arm just so that he can roll up the sleeve of his suit jacket and unbutton his cuff to do the same. There's this wariness in his eyes, even as he looks for the mark, whether it's visible or not. Obviously, there's hesitation on his part to just give him this information, as if these Veil creatures were trying to steal his identity or worse, gain much needed intel on him.

As he does this, he shoots a look across the way, first noting Beth get back in line, but he didn't really witness the whole tearing up of, or at least, the reforming of her legal documents because he was busy with his own stuff. And then he looks between Vyv and Rebecca, observing to see whether they are being forced to go through this process the way he is.

Wearing this clear look of displeasure, dark eyes staring out at the teller, he firmly sets his forearm in the appointed square. He's distrustful of this whole thing, but he's also curious as to what information actually comes up.

"Mm," Vyv more-or-less agrees; they're talking about a duchy, after all. "Why can't Maestros marry?" he inquires, curiosity winning out, "And I presume failing to notarize this ought to essentially handle it," if this weren't crazyworld, anyway, "but is there somewhere I ought to be ensuring the error's fixed?" A little reluctant to ask; there are many things he'd prefer to do this evening.

A small portion of his attention's saved for Rebecca, and so the calling out of 'Maestro friend' has him glancing that way. He doesn't call back, but the professed banker gets a questioning lift of a brow. No promises. But the curiosity's there. Plus... he does like Rebecca. "What does it claim they loaned you?" he asks her.

Rebecca gives the banker a LOOK that seems to be a very calculated one. "I'll consider it, first I just want to see if this is a simple mistake. I think they sent this foreclosure to the wrong person. The name isn't correct." Simple mistake indeed. Rebecca looks to Vyv and arches one brow as if to indicate to her boss she's going to do something tricksy. She focuses on the paperwork and crafts the illusion that the name on it is Rebecca Oarr instead of Rebecca Carr. Tiny tiny simple change.

Beth looks displeased with the suggestion that she pass herself off as someone else. "Well, did he actually sign up knowing it would cost him his eyes and liver? Because I didn't."

She still has her arms over her chest with a look of utter displeasure on her face when the the metal-haired woman begins to make a fuss. Her head turns a little and she nods her head in agreement. Then she raises her voice, "Yeah! Has anyone looked at these contracts?! They are completely and utterly ridiculous and are set up for us to fail! This is....this is predatory! It's illegal in civilized places where you don't have to give up your eyes and liver for a rejected permit!"

First he's told to press his forearm down against this square and now he hears that forlorn beep, bringing out this hint of impatience. "You have got to be kidding me." Byron says mostly to himself, though he says this aloud so that the the teller can hear him. Now he's asked to hand over the book and Thorne just stares at the thing, looking non-plussed. "You're going to hand that back to me once you locate the account right?"

Then from one of the other lines, the one Beth is standing in, some woman is shrieking trying to start up chaos. This gives Byron a chance to look at how long the line behind him as built up, just out of idle curiosity! Whatever line that is, though, the one where Beth is now raising her voice in protest at, Byron feels he has a shot at this. He's taken the notes, he's documented the discrepancies and everything that he'd found that would make the contract moot in his mind.

It's at that point that he notices something or doesn't notice something. Or notices that something was amiss, missing. Gone. That's when his attention turns towards the wall. He wasn't sure whether he'd heard anything this whole time, but its absence is now clear to him. Rather than open the book up again and pull out his notepad to direct the teller's attention to everything that he'd like to point out, instead, he scans the room cautiously and if the Teller tries to speak, he'll utter out a soft 'Shhh'.

"Ah, of course. Do you know, that's not the first time someone's said that to me?" Vyv replies to the harpy with faint amusement. Probably not the music part, though that's nice. He does like a compliment. And probably not the same art. "And I'm fairly certain that describes all children. Still. Yes, why risk it?"

The shouting woman draws his attention, then Beth when she joins in, and then-- something subtler. A furrow of the brow, and he glances to the harpy again. "What was that sound that's just gone? The sort of droning one, from over there?" Escherian though the space may be in parts, he's still reasonably confident about identifying a given wall.

Rebecca hands over the notice with her most pleasant expression. "I believe I received this foreclosure notice in error? I haven't taken out any loans, and the name on this isn't mine. I am Rebecca Carr, this says Rebecca Oarr." Smile smile, look calm, be zen, it's just a misunderstanding. "And I don't even know what a Gundrak is," She adds.

"Of course." Beth mutters in annoyance when the drones pop out of the wall and start towards them. She is mad. Fed up with Veil shenanigans at the moment. She also feels suddenly...strange. Like she's about to get a static electricity jolt. The hair on her arms stands up. In fact it sort of looks like someone has rubbed a balloon on the top of her head.

"Yep." She says shortly to the banker. "I sure did." She takes a few steps towards the chain-haired woman when she pulls out her baton. "You don't happen to have two of those, do you?"

Then in a louder voice she shouts, "Oh sure they have....robot insects, but there are more of us then there are them! Stand up and fight and then we'll burn this place to the ground! Whose with me?!"

While he's waiting for his account to be found in whatever database this place has, Byron idly rolls down his sleeves--rebuttons to cuff of his dress shirt, before smoothing out his jacket sleeve. "The what?" He asks, briefly taking a glance back over at his teller before he tries catch sight of these drone things. Either way, it didn't sound good.

That's when the teller informs him of the items listed under Payments and he's quick to state, "I've read that already." In the book! "Though I'm not a 'Maestro', even if I do play the piano every now and then. And unfortunately, I don't own anything of true value when it comes to Art." Though he does have at least one piece hanging on his walls that was created by a famous painter. He also knows what they mean by art and maestro, or he thinks he does, but he's being an ass.

When he's handed the book back, he nods, though his eyes are now focused on those robotic insects that suddenly make their appearance, watching them with wary eyes. "Yes, I'm here to contest it. If you look at page.." His gaze drops to flip through his notebook to check his notes, then finds the info in the actual book itself, he states, "Four Hundred and Sixty it says..." He would continue, but all hell seems to be breaking loose right now, "Ahh hell. That," He continues, "That where it asks that you find at the very least three hundred member signatures," He then flips through the book to another page, "Right here it clearly shows that non-members. Unborn kin of members /somehow/ got their signatures added when it says on this page that--" And he continues to flip through, "Only members that are fully formed may be admitted."

There's then a shake of his head when he looks up at the teller, "And that's not all--" But with everything going on and the various lines dispersing, he grabs for the book and his notepad gauging how dangerous his position is at the moment. Obviously, despite his disputing certain claims, he's kept watch on his surroundings and though he doesn't really know Beth personally, though both having lived in Gray Harbor for much of their lives, he knows of her, he looks as if he's preparing to maybe offer his assistance if things get out of hand.

"As in 'from the premises' or more permanently?" Vyv inquires, eyeing the drones as they emerge. It's possible that makes a difference as to whether he's inclined to get involved. Riots are hard on a suit. Drone insects likely even more so. But Beth does look familiar, and possibly non-Veil-humans should stick together? Are any of the other beleaguered bureacracy-victims following Beth's call to arms? His stance shifts slightly, more ready, but really, this had been going reasonably well so far, all in all. At least for him.

Success! Rebecca looks very, very pleased at her 'case' being thrown out. "Thank you very much," she chimes to the teller, before turning to head towards her boss. The appearance of the drones has her watching them warily as she moves to Vyv's side. "It was a misunderstanding, I was correct," she notes. "That doesn't look good," she notes, of the drones. Then Beth does her best Enjolras impression. "That doesn't sound good either. I do not wish to be Eponine dying on the barricade, Chef."

Beth catches the baton and mimics Jannah's motion of tapping it against her leg. She isn't exactly the sort of person who gets into these sorts of fights or well any sort of fights at all but here she is now. And if she's here she might as well do her best to look like a total badass. Or kind of cool as the mortician doesn't exactly have that total badass look down just yet.

When the drones come after her she does manage to channel her own newfound zip zap talents into the baton and smashes it hard enough to push it back. She twists the way out of the second one just in the knick of time, it's stinger catching on her shirt and ripping a tear into the fabric. "Are you okay?" She calls out to Jannah when the metal-fingered woman gets stung.

Oh, Byron's not going to let that one go and he quickly retorts, "And as it says in Section 8," Yes, the book is a mess, "Subclause E, paragraph 2 that ..." If anything, there is this crackling at his hands even as he's flipping through the book to address a few things and when the teller cries out NEXT, if anything, he looks utterly annoyed.

The book is then shut and he gives the teller this look as if to say that this isn't over. That said, he's not revolutionary. Some would say that he's /part/ of the system, usually and this isn't his fight. The book is far too heavy and bulky to slip into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, so he's forced to hold onto it for now.

If these things have no minds to manipulate, Hey! Now he sort of wants to go back to and try to manipulate that teller so that they can address the entirety of the book, but as these drones have nothing for him to play with, mentally, he just has to hope that they come near enough for him to shock with one electrified hand.

"No," Vyv agrees with Rebecca, "...and good job, very heartening." Since, this aside, she's usually the one handling his paperwork. Her success bodes well, as always. Unlike the rest of what's happening. "No, nor I, and I'd be a terrible Eponine anyway," he agrees. And then there's that effect on the metal-haired woman, and he sighs. Fine. Fine! He glares at the drones as if they were inconveniencing him personally -- which, arguably, they somewhat are now -- flicking his hand upward at the wrist like a very understated stop-in-the-name-of-love, and they do in fact stop where they are, wings beating, as though they'd run into some invisible barrier or something. Or suddenly started wondering whether they left the stove on, though the wings might slow for that.

Rebecca frowns. "Oh dear, maybe we should help?" She gestures to put a shield onto Beth. She sighs. "I am really just over Them pulling us in here wily nily. I have things to do, dammit." It really disrupts her perfectly scheduled OCD day.

That drone may be frozen but Beth is going to take a whack at it anyways because she is, quite frankly, annoyed. That she misses a completely still drone seems to only add to her aggravation. "Fuck the bureaucracy!" She shouts out while putting her baton holding fist in the air. This is followed by a, "Oh fuck." as the city guard arrives. And then Jannah is offering a way out and since only a few have joined their attempt at a riot to show The Man they aren't going to take it anymore her only option is to run. "Let's get the fuck out of here." She says in agreement with Jannah. It's then what she notices Vyv, Byron, and Rebecca. "Hey! Um pastry guy! Rich guy! Um....other pastry person only a lady! Let's go!"

If there's any chance one of those drones was heading his way, Byron's is quick to lash out and try to fry their circuits. One such opportunity comes into play when the mechs are manipulated and held steady in the air, right at his reach. Perhaps, the giant mechanical beast should have showed its face beforehand, then he may have changed his mind altogether and had gotten the hell out of the place. But no, when the opportunity presents itself, he reaches out to make an electrifying grab for the drone, a quick reaction, before pulling away once they bring out the big guns.

"Son of a--" He breathes out heavily, whether he was able to short out the robotic insect or not, when Jannah gains their attention, he's heading her way with a shake of his head, "This is like your typical DMV shenanigans."

Vyv gives Rebecca a glance that if he were a decade younger and female would probably come with an 'I know, right?!', but since he isn't, instead gets "That is precisely what I was thinking. As if our time's worth nothing? Not even the courtesy of arranging appointments. I did have plans." They may not have involved any other people, today, but they were still plans!

He's in no hurry to release the drones, since they don't appear to have changed their intentions, but the klaxon and flashing crystals do get a flicker of his eyes in their direction, and the big guns on the centaury thing don't make things more appealing. He quirks a brow at being addressed as 'pastry guy', but he's been called worse, and anything someone's calling you in the service of not-being-shot automatically gets at least half a pass. That's definitely the way he heads. "Pleasure meeting you," he notes aside to the harpy as their respective filing-out trajectories diverge.

Rebecca moves to follow Beth and the metal haired woman, but on her way she goes all Emperor Palpatine on one of the drones. She snaps a hand out at it, and lightning leaps from her fingers to the metal wasp.

Beth trails behind Jannah a little slower so they don't leave the other denizens of Gray Harbor on the 'normal' side of the Veil behind. She winces as the city guard begins shooting out that electrical slime and it coats people. "Maybe fighting the system isn't all it's cracked up to be." She waits until Byron, Rebecca, and Vyv are right there to head towards the door. She reaches for a hand hold to jump down into the service tunnel. "Uh...here!" She says to Vyv as she thrusts the baton into his hand before she secures a handhold with both hands and then drops down the hole.

Mechanical flying insects are one thing because they are quick with those stingers that probably will mess you up. This larger than life robo, however, shooting out blobs at people, while the blobs themselves don't look overly dangerous-- even if, while Byron's not certain, that that stuff may or may not kill you, but that thing's got range and that's all that matters. As far as he knows, his ID doesn't even work!

With his arm snapping out in the direction of one of the Drones, he notices that the thing starts to crackle and smoke before he even makes contact with the machine. There's no real time to think on it all because he eventually makes contact with it at the end, once it's already sparking like crazy and falling apart. Maybe his charge is growing stronger.

There's not time and there's no waiting, his quick steps following behind Jannah, turning right at the moment to realize that they've got more insect drones incoming. "Go! Go!" He calls out never ceasing in this quick sprint. He'll impatiently wait his turn and like a gentleman, allow the women to enter the hatch first so that they can get to safety. And then Vyv unless he dawdles. When he's the only other person who is not some random rioter still milling around the hatch, he absently tucks the book under his arm when he just could've left it behind, for ease of climbing down that ladder and into the darkness.

Vyv manages to keep his reaction to being shot at with a big splattery sticky blob down to a quick skitter away and, after a flicker of a downward glance that at least confirms it didn't get on his suit, a brief but nonetheless truly venomous glare toward the guard. But there are higher priorities right now. He's still keeping in place any of the original drones that haven't been suitably dispatched, and hurries to catch up with their guide. This is officially becoming a riot, and those are only fun from a distance.

The chef feels absolutely no compulsion to be the mighty rear guard protector; Byron can go right on ahead with that. He does let the women go first, although whether that's chivalry or happenstance, who knows. Having the baton shoved at him is unexpected, and successfully gets it into his hand, though he does protest, "And what precisely am I supposed to do with this, pole vault down?" But rather than abandon it, his own answer ends up being to tuck it under his arm as he climbs down; the unnotarized paper has already been absently tucked into a pocket during all the fracas.

Rebecca dashes along with the others, and climbs down the hatch with reckless speed in those heels. Fortunately, she is an expert in high heel absurdity and doesn't even think twice about it.