sirenspull | 22 [Voice]

The citizens of this city, registered and unregistered, are somewhat pathetic.

[Hello, Siren's Port. Have your neighborhood friendly demon, sounding oddly serious and composed.]

We are brought here, against our will, by a mystical force that none of us can control or see. While we are trapped here, we are treated as second-class citizens, the proverbial Rosa Parks on the bus line that is the multiverse, and not weeks after a neighborhood friendly hunt on the newcomer population, individuals seem to have... shrugged it off. Moved along with their lives and their husbands and wives and paper routes and white picket fences.

[There is a slight creak as Crowley shifts in the chair he is sitting in. He pauses slightly, to collect his thoughts, before he continues. A good orator always knows when to draw the line and when to keep talking. He seems to be deciding where it is now.]

Whether or not this is just another display of humanity ignoring when terrible things occur in favor of the new bright and shiny politician on their doorstep is irrelevant. What is relevant is your amazing ability to ignore what is directly in front of you -- we are held in the hands of a group of individuals no more or less powerful than we are and yet we are the second-class. Even those registered as citizens, those with powers in government -- you can't tell me you are truly invited to the weekly bridge game of our Canadian cousins.

[And suddenly, his voice grows slightly harder.]

What will it take for all of you to realize that we are nothing more than cattle in a small pen being poked at with sticks? Would it be the brutal murder of someone you love or the relinquishment of supposed unalienable rights that you hold onto so tightly? What will it take for you to finally open your eyes and understand that you aren't free. Your tiny little slice of life is nothing more than an illusion fed to you by a series of corporations and egotistical human overlords who think themselves better than everyone else because they have a pretty picture stamped on an ID card. So come on -- be honest. What would you rather have -- eternal peace at the price of freedom or the knowledge that you did something potentially great regardless of the consequences?

[There is the clink of a glass -- and Crowley ceases talking. But the feed stays open.

It's a serious question. And a testing of the waters.

He wants to know how many dangerous people are truly in the Port.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Bah. Some of us are hardly unaware of all that. Your speculations are remarkably blind-sided to external variables, but I suppose we cannot expect any less.

What is your point?

[He doesn't answer, because it's a waste of time.]

We must all conform to some extent to survive. Do you think that is any different from any other place with any suitable form of a governing party?

[The sound of insufferable mortality. He ignores most of it in favor of asking another question.]

Have you ever read a document known as the American Declaration of Independence?

[You can practically hear the raised brow that he's giving his phone now, despite it only being on voice function.]

What of it?

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security.

[He pauses for a moment.]

In my long and illustrious experience, complying with something that obviously isn't working makes you nothing more than a silent vote of approval. Complacency for self-preservation is the excuse of cowards.

[He did it for forty-two thousand years. It got pretty old.]

I sure as hell ain't ignoring what they're doing.

Then what are you doing about it?

[It isn't argumentative. It's a genuine question, as he sits in his office chair.]

[Well, so much for a cozy little island vacation. It looks like there's a need for a Charmed One after all.]

That's an easy one. Peace doesn't necessarily mean good, sometimes it just means complacent.

Then what would you do to secure freedom?

Are you advocating for rebellion?

[But there's nothing in his tone that indicates he disagrees, yet.]

Whatever it takes to win and still call what you did "right."

Right now? Fixing the damage.

[Paying medical bills. Throwing a huge beach party to cheer everyone up while simultaneously giving a big fuck you to Townshed. It's no secret he's been doing that for people. But the implication is, of course, he intends to do a lot more. Or maybe he already has.]

If your brave act of rebellion has a high enough body count then it just isn't worth it.

[Mary's normally a good liar, a good actress, able to say something she doesn't believe and make you think she does.

Today isn't a normal day.]

[He's out, having been stuck in the house for some time, so Crowley gets a video feed instead of a talk in person. He leaves it unlocked purposefully.]

You know my stance on this.

[He appears in the room calmly]

Why Mr. Crowley, stirring up the masses are we?

Quite the philanthropist.

There is a very fine line to walk for that to still hold true.

[Mildly.]

[He shrugs because he doesn't know what that word means.]

Muffin man.

[Somewhat pleased.]

What makes you think that?

Well I, for one, am not content to just sit around waiting for more of this nonsense to happen. Trick is it's hard to tell who's for us and who's against us, and even harder to tell who's orchestrating.

[There's a snort before he moves on.]

From what I understand, SERO and AGI both control significant parts of the city. What makes you think we could attempt it and not be slaughtered?

Define high body count.

I don't kiss and tell.

[As he leans back in his chair, amused.]

Are you having fun with your hooker friends?

[He looks nonplussed, at the sudden appearance, still leaning back comfortably in his chair.]

It's a talent of mine.

You can always tell who a man is by who is friends are.

I suggest you begin with examining who attends the bridge games and who asks for invitations.

So what are you suggesting, exactly?

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