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Justice and Vigilantes [Open]

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The streets of Ul'dah were busy with the shuffling of travelers, merchants, and citizens. It was a normal day considering the past events. These past events, however, seemed to stir something in this middle-aged hyur. He stood in the Ruby Road Exchange, at the elevated balcony, back to the streets, the Quicksand to his left. He spoke up to passersby, reiterating past headlines.


"Masked vigilante strikes! Kidnap victims found, one dead! Vigilantes run unchecked and authorties can't prevent a mass kidnapping? I call to you, citizens of Eorzea, to a public forum!"


He continues this for a better part of a bell, gathering a few individuals and showing them headlines and discussing what he perceives to be a problem. Subjects of vigilantism and justice come up among the few.


Paul Desmond was walking toward the Quicksand to satisfy that calling to drink rum when he heard the commotion and the repeated headlines. "I had better check on this..." he mutters.

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Celia is walking the streets of Ul'dah when she hears the sounds of the Hyur man shouting.


Walking up to the Hyur man, she asks in a huff "What is a public forum? I certainly have a fair share of words to say about this masked vigilante and the commotion he is causing."

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Celia is walking the streets of Ul'dah when she hears the sounds of the Hyur man shouting.


Walking up to the Hyur man, she asks in a huff "What is a public forum? I certainly have a fair share of words to say about this masked vigilante and the commotion he is causing."


"It's an assembly of the public, citizens and travelers alike. Something needs to be done, and we're going to decide that and take it to the authorities." The middle-aged midlander hyur waves some paper around, evidently something to keep track of opinions and facts.


He begins his shouting again. "Gather 'round, now! Gather 'round! Masked heroes or masked menaces? Capable authorities or over-worked?"


By now the city-states' inspector, Paul Desmond, graced the forum with his presence near the back of the group. Better keep this lot in line, and see who appears at this 'forum,' he says in his mind.

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"Obviously these Vigilantes should be celebrated. They are rescuing others when no one is able to. If i could congratulate them, i would do so wholeheartedly. But they are going about this in the wrong way. Vigilantes should be working with the authorities. By hiding their identity they are giving those that they fight against a target. If their identities were ever discovered, then those that are close to them would be at risk, if not already." Celia said, obviously riled up by the hyur man shouting. "Now if you will excuse me, i need to find someone."


Celia noticed those that were standing off to the side and walked over to them. "Excuse me. Do any of you know where i could find the quicksand?"

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The man scribbles down notes in a fury. Others seem to agree with what was said, still others felt the vigilantes should answer to the law, others just didn't care, seemingly watching for entertainment. He listens to another speak up as the question for direction is said.


Paul makes his way over to the au ra and says, "The Quicksand is just this way." He points in its direction.

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The middle-aged hyur continued to address passersby as Paul moved back to the group. The movement caught the attention of the older man.


"Ah, Inspector Paul Desmond himself, the lead investigator on the Viper case. Tell us, to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"


"Just listening to what people say."


"What is it you say on the matter? I think we'd all like to know."


Paul merely smirks. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to attend the forum. Still... he was curious what sort would show up.


"It doesn't matter what I think," he replies. "It matters what the law reads."


"Typical... You heard it, citizens! Even the good inspector just follows orders, lacking the heart to do the right thing."

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A lone figure sat and watched the murmurings and shuffling of the crowds before him. Alert eyes darted back and forth from one individual to another in obvious signs of searching for someone in particular.


But surely that person would not dare show himself here, of all places. Ah but then he'd perhaps be as crafty enough to do just that. Hiding in plain sight.

Though he doubted he'd recognize the quarry he was seeking, even if they bumped into him face to face.


Still, waiting and watching was as good as a thing to do now as any.

The figure glanced down and with a slight *click-click* with his tongue, a small furry ball would scamper up into the mans pocket as he began to push his way through the crowd in effort to find a better vantage point.

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If only he, or rather everyone knew what was really going on, what Paul was truly doing to rectify the situation. Even still, he was not here to make a public statement. He wanted to locate someone, a person he was now sure would appear at such a forum.


He disappears from the middle-aged man's space and moves through the crowd again, moving toward the back to watch the passersby and those who arrive.


The middle-aged man begins speaking with someone that made their way up; a concerned citizen. "I think you're right. Vigilantes can't be left unchecked. Mhmm, just sign your name there and I'll inform you when."


Paul is approached by a stranger in a cloak as the forum goes on. They converse quietly and then he hands Paul a folded parchment. He slips it on his person and the cloaked figure leaves.

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[align=justify]From the corner of the nearby alley, a golden-haired woman had been watching in silence. Not hiding, mind you, but simply blending with the crowd that mingled beneath the overhang of buildings in the hot Ul'Dahn sun. Leaning back against the wall, the worn sole of one thigh-high boot against the stone wall suggesting relaxed nature, a small smirk had curled the corners of full lips; unhidden by the shadow of large brimmed hat that cut line of sight from the oceans of her gaze with it's angle. Even so, Odette had been watching the comings and goings; particularly those whom would make their opinions known, of which seemed to be leaning in favor of the lawful.


Then came words from she - an earthy voice carrying through the crowd that took but a few moments to pinpoint it's source within in the passing of people.


"Perhaps the law should put their resources into doing their jobs, rather than chasing the vigilantes doing it fer them." she stated in loud, husky tone; the woman not lifting her head from it's shadowed position. The smirk remained ever present on her lips as she continued, slender fingers drumming against the elbow of arms folded beneath the curve of bust.


"We'd have nae need fer this Viper, whom might I point out is one person single-handedly takin' on the responsibilities of many idle hands, iffen there weren't a callin' fer it."[/align]

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A feeling of familiarity set in Paul's mind as the golden-haired woman spoke. The feeling of familiarity pushed aside, he focused on what she said.


Were it so easy, he thinks to himself.


The middle-aged hyur seemed to get excited from the woman's comments. "Yes, yes! Focus on a real threat!" he bellows with surprising volume.


Paul repeats his previous statement to himself. If he was in charge, perhaps they would be working with the Viper rather than against him. Nevertheless, he had to answer to someone who, in turn, had to answer to someone else. It was this someone else that really wanted the Viper found and brought in.


Paul goes back to that feeling of familiarity. Why did she seem so familiar? Maybe he could get a better look...

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[align=justify]The excited bellow of the hyur drew only an amused smirk from the woman, curling the tapered corner of her full lips with the expression. She knew the method, had witnessed the flip-flop of agreement from one person to the next with interests of self and success of story, rather than the showing of any general interest in what it was he was saying.


"Too often we focus on what is lawful as opposed t'what is good. If t'act is good, if the act is successful ... why do we fight it?" she continued regardless, a slender digit raising from the fold of her arms to slowly push the wide brim of her hat upward and expel the shadow that obscured her freckled features. It was hardly he whom was being spoken to, so it mattered little.


"I'll tell you why," stated the highlander, pushing herself off from the wall with the shift of her weight against her leather-clad heel. A cheeky wink found it's way through the crowd in Paul's direction as the woman continued to address the audience. "Because it ain't about the vigilante at all. It's about control an' sociological projection. Does it have it's place? Aye. A sense of security is important when it's capable, but t'justice system ain't so worried about the Viper as it is with lookin' bad."


With an idle yet flourished roll of her wrist in gesture, the blonde went on to add "So long as Viper continues t'punish the guilty an' stays a hand fer the innocent, he or she is nae an enemy but an ally."[/align]

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What the fair lady spoke seemed to spark excitement in the crowd. An argument soon follows between a pair, one whose brother works in said justice system while another makes accusations. After few words are exchanged, punches are soon exchanged.


Paul shakes his head. Why do things always go wrong on such a beautiful day? he wonders to himself. But he moves to intervene before the whole crowd turns into a riot, but it seemed that was well underway as two more fights broke out. The middle-aged man was long gone by now.


Paul moves to break up the fight, swings were thrown at him but he blocks, dodges, and subdues, binding the first pair by the hands behind the back.


By now Flames made their way to the scene to cease control. Paul gives the report to what happened to the sergeant of the squad before leaving. He had much to think about.


((This will end the scene. For any who have posted feel free to make final posts. Thanks for participating!))

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With the outbreak of riot, the buxom bardess disappeared into the crowd with the simple ease of a shadow; twisting the wrist of anyone whom might dare to throw a punch her way as she departed. The last glimpse of her that anyone saw that day was no more than the ripple of muted blue and black half-cape attached to shapely hip that disappeared amidst the bodies that tussled, in the direction alley from whence it came.

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