"You could at least act like you care. For christ's sake you're the oyabun's son." Shuya remarked, sounding rather ticked off. He and Akira both sat under the shelter of a bus stop about 20 yards from the Lotuswich Shoppe. Rain poured relentlessly down around them. "Eh, it's not that I don't care. I just don't agree." Akira replied in a non-chalant tone. "You and I both know this isn't about business. My father's sending a message and it's a real pointless one if you ask me." He sighed. "The council irritates me. I feel like we're being ordered around by children."

"I should smack you for saying stuff like that y'know!" Shuya shouted. "You've got a real snarky attitude, show some respect for the family! Quit acting like you're some kinda know it all or something, it drives me nuts." Akira said nothing in reply, and merely remained silent. This argument was always back and forth, he liked Shuya, and had known the guy for a while, they grew up together. He's probably his closest friend and really knows how to have fun but he's just too close-minded to the point where it's frustrating. Maybe it's because he's a cyborg, and that's how he's programmed or something. Akira yawned, and checked his phone for about the 10th time in the past 5 minutes.

"Are you expecting a call or something?" Shuya asked, noticing the pattern. Akira spun the phone around in his hand, wondering if Luci had made any progress. He felt kinda guilty leaving her alone, but wanted to avoid telling her where he was going. "Nah, just checking the time. The guys been in there for a while." Shuya had been looking at the file left for Akira since they had sat down. "I hope that's the right bike, it's hard to see in this damn rain" he remarked. As Shuya looked through the file a man walked out of the sandwich shop. He was wearing armor and had biker written all over him. "Shuya" Akira placed his hand on Shuya's head and pulled it back so he was now looking at the sandwich shop. "Is that him?" Shuya swatted his hand away, and looked at a photo in the file. "Bingo, that's our guy. Rig Leaf." Akira eyed the man for a moment. "Leaf, huh?" he said to himself. "Cool name" Shuya closed the file and placed it in his coat pocket. "Is he about to leave? We should probably head to the car." Akira proposed. "Nah, I think the guys just having a smoke. That's actually not a bad idea." With that, Shuya reached back into his coat pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Damnnit. Maybe Luci shouldn’t have been so upfront about it, but there’s no telling how much searching she would have had to do on her own. She resisted the urge to squirm under the librarian’s accusative gaze as she followed her to the computers. While walking she pulled out her phone and typed a quick text to Akira, ‘May hav found some news articles about OF, but I think thats all im gunna find. Will send pics later.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers…’ As the woman pulled up the articles, Luci scanned the rather detailed words, “Wow these are surprisingly informative, thank you.” She needed as much as she could get, and she knew that the library had some sort of government protected materials in it, so the librarian may know some more about the subject. She sat down in the chair glancing up at her as she stared intently at the screen. “Do you know anything else about Operation Freedom? My boss wants me to do a presentation for a…historical convention.” Decent enough lie. At least she hoped so.

Vic smirked when the sandwich's arrived, giving Alistair the pay and a tip for running out that far, setting Lilin's sandwich to the side so she could take it when she was done dealing with the kid, whom he didn't believe a word out of, on general principal. Storm like this was the perfect excuse NOT to work, and she didn't look the type to be one of those hard working, studious types. But he chuckled at Alistair's comment, replying easy enough. "I noticed, makes me glad I beat the storm front here. Been knocking out some research, been getting damn near a hundred calls within an hour of that bombing, bastard Our Father's Fathers decided to dump a bunch of work on me. And to think we didn't have enough terrorists to be digging on without adding another to the pile, eh?" Alistair was welcome to hang out, obviously, but he needed to take Lilin her sandwich, since she was being a librarian right now.

Approaching the two, he caught the question about Operation Freedom. More terrorists, but an older, more known bunch. At least compared to Our Father's Fathers, who had literally just cropped up on the map, and historical tie ins to them being few and far in between. But he smirked, handing Lilin her sandwich as ordered while commenting. "Here's your food, Lilin. And Operation Freedom are a secretive bunch, not surprising for terrorists. But they haven't kept good and tidy trail of their past, not like this new group, eh?" He smirked, appearing all good natured and well mannered, but a devil could have a silver tongue and honeyed words but have nothing but business and analysis from every word someone said, and didn't say. After all, he did pick up some things from his devil blood, or so he joked when confronted on it every now and again.

After seeing people sit down after coming in, Ethan followed suit. He would have taken a corner, but both corners were occupied by a halfling and a man- he thought he recognized him as the owner of that clothing store- What was it? Something about dragons. So, he sat himself at a table between them as far out of their line of sight of each other as he could manage. He didn't know what was going on, but he caught the looks being thrown between them and didn't want to get involved.

He put his briefcase onto the table and debated opening it up and doing some work while he waited to be served. There was some sensitive information in it, but nothing people wouldn't find out in a week or two, if they didn't know already. He rubbed his thumbs on the clasps of the briefcase. It didn't matter, he decided, opened it up. In a few moments, he had out a manilla file frayed and thick with post-it notes and paperclips attached to pages of text and his laptop. The briefcase remained closed by his side. He propped his elbow on the table and stroked his chin as he read over what he wrote earlier that day.

As the storm raged on, Gyran set off toward Elf Haven. He was welcome there, but couldn't very well use his bike. Anyone knows that riding your bike in the rain without the proper cover could be painful. Gyran was wearing a sleeveless tank top after all. I guess I should have checked the weather report. Good thing I didn't run into this storm when I was on my bike. That wouldn't have been pleasant. He thought to himself. Despite the torrential downpour, he turned his head upwards as he made his way down the abandoned sidewalk. He could always feel that, the loneliness that his sort of commitment brought, forced to speak in mostly coded messages, putting on a façade of a completely different person.

Still, a sense of anxiety always washes over him when he gives orders. They're not the best way to communicate but it certainly kept them out of the limelight, though their work was sometimes exposed. Operation Freedom has no where near the budget of the Our Father's Fathers terrorist organization. They were definitely a threat, escalated violence makes it worse for the real freedom fighters. No doubt Operation Freedom had done some bombings in the past, but they were against government buildings with very low to no occupancy. The casualties were minimal, and it was not about destroying lives, but making a point. The government isn't invincible, but if you push too hard then you'll make real change impossible. You have to put just enough pressure, and you need the people on your side. No body except for the die-hard, red blooded, trigger happy Texans would accept this sort of armed rebellion. Gyran thought to himself on that lonely walk towards Elf Haven.

After a good trek he finally had made his way to Elf Haven, completely drenched by that point. Within a few minutes he found himself at the end of the sidewalk, standing right beside a bus stop where two men were resting. Gyran couldn't help but glance at them for a moment, before the drenched Elf would stuff his hands into his pockets, and walk across the street towards the Lotuswich Shoppe. He didn't make a habit of swinging by too often, but the food was alright. As he crossed the street he also caught eyes with Leaf for just a moment. No doubt the two had seen eachother's face in passing, as Gyran was a regular at the Underhill Motorcycle Club. He always stayed low profile but it was just a matter of time before Leaf confronted him; or perhaps he thought that the Elf was simply a loner.

Disregarding the thought, Gyran entered the sandwich shop and looked over, glancing past one strange man sitting in the corner, to another more young man in a suit. He probably caught some looks because of how wet he was, but he couldn't help but flash a smile to the man known as Ethan. Gyran knew his name, but it's likely Ethan knew only Gyran's alias, Ozy, or Ozymandias. They had never met face-to-face, but Gyran occasionally helped leak things through him, and Ethan was also rather useful himself to the cause, but identities had to be protected. Ethan probably knew some lower level Operation Freedom members, but very few knew of Ozy's actual identity, even from deep within the organization.

After that brief glance, Gyran made his way to a seat near the middle of the establishment and sat down. He didn't even notice the other two girls in the shop, only Lillium. He yawned for a moment and slouched back. Being wet didn't bother him much. He seemed very relaxed, simply waiting for his order to be taken, he didn't seem to mind waiting.

Ethan glanced up from the screen when someone came in and did a double-take when he saw the elf was looking at him. His fingers paused over the keyboard. He had never seen the elf before in his life, but when he was smiled at, he only thought it polite to smile back. He dipped his head in a brief nod and turned his attention back to his work. It was a little harder to focus now, maybe because of the new person in the store. Every time he started to type, his eyes would drift over to the stranger. Everyone who was coming in from outside was going to be wet and some people liked that better than others, so that wasn't why he was distracted. It had to do with the way that he looked at Ethan- like he recognized him. It was intimidating.

He shook off the feeling and glued his eyes to his screen and concentrated deeply on the task in front of him. He didn't dislike his job as much as he despised the restrictions put on his intuition and creative freedom. He wasn't any ordinary journalist; He was one of many reporters that worked for the government. It was important because not everyone could be trusted to spread the lies from the government. Any wavering on his part could result in some severe consequences.

Ethan blinked, realizing he had zoned out for a moment. Nothing new was written. Habitually, he reached out for the drink he would normally keep at the corner of his laptop, but grasped at air. He threw a glance to the woman waiting on someone else and decided he could wait a little longer.