The Clipper

Who: Raylan, a small Revolution and you!
What: Vive la révolution - This is a free for all Log! Make your own top levels or tag into the chaos! (or both, whatever makes you happy)
When: Night of the 17th
CW: Violence but no strong language :3

Preamble

Something had changed. Raylan couldn't put his finger on why it felt like his stomach was eating itself, or why he couldn't stop having nightmares about James dying, but it felt like something Bad had Happened, and it made Raylan anxious and antsy in a way that, maybe, wasn't the most graceful for a man his age.

He'd do a whole lot better if he wasn't here.

But it was enough to spur Raylan into moving his plans into their next phase - plan execution.

--

It started later that same night, well after the Evening Song gathering which Raylan had used to catch a few people's eyes and managed to pass a single message. "Tonight." Jacobi, Garion. Oswald and Yunlan and Elle. Cloud and Steve. Maybe even Elias.. They had to wait, until most of the Clipper folk were in bed. Raylan was sure there were going to be a few night-owls, a few lingerers and that was exactly what Raylan wanted.

Folk they could lure into the mess. The goal? Get up the Treehouse, with or without an Assistant hostage and then - Barricading or disabling the Elevator up.

The Start

First thing Raylan made sure everyone knew as they showed up and moved through was that they were going for distraction and Chaos. Want to block a hallway? Go for it. Want to duck tape an assistant to the wall? Great. There were two fires planned and started in short order, one in the kitchens with kitchen rags and towels, one in the common room entrance with books. Yes, he knows- He objects on principle too, but means to an end and all. As soon as it all started, there wasn't going to be any stopping it or the rush of bodies that may come to try and stop them.

The crawl of fire and smoke didn't take long and Raylan just smiled at it all. Of course they might have fire detectors, but as heavily sanitized and flawed as this place was, Raylan was hoping they felt no need for it. That would change, wouldn't it. Despite all the violence on property they were doing, Raylan felt as calm and sure as ever.

Any Assistants that might manage to make their way into the common room was in for a hard time on their own - Raylan was actively hunting for someone to knock out with the table leg he'd snapped off and he'd made the fact that they needed one of the wristbands top priority. It was the key to the next step and he'd steal and lift as many of them as he could. Anything to stop them from taking out anyone who was causing the trouble.


The Hustle

There were a lotta moving pieces. Raylan knew that elsewhere, Steve and Cloud were also creating an equal amount of chaos - Give 'em hell. But he had his key upstairs and that's what he needed. After dragging Malcolm's body into the elevator with him, he held the door for a half second. He would have called for anyone to join him that wanted to, but frankly, he didn't want to have to deal with any more assistants that might try to take him up on the offer.

No, better take this himself, take the rap for it himself too, if he could. He knew this would come with consequences - he felt they were worth it, if they got any traction or got a meeting with the Authority.

Once the elevator is up, Raylan pulls Malcolm into the intersection of door and floor, using the man's body as a hold button as he starts dragging furniture into the elevator door. Soon enough, Malcolm was traded out for another two chairs and a coffee table - not the strongest of barricades, but plenty to throw a wrench in anyone calling it back down.

Now he could focus on calling up the Nurse with Malcolm's wristband.

[Give 'em hell. Raylan hadn't needed any encouragement, but he took some from it anyway, stubbornly ready to meet things head-

He wasn't ready. There was no question about him staying, and it wasn't even about his deal anymore. If he had to go home and murder half of a mob or more, he'd find a way to be okay with that. Losing Flint, there was no being okay with that. 'Fine', Raylan had said. He was still a warden, there were still moves here, even if he didn't see it yet.

Until Raylan realizes that he's been demoted for some reason. Installed as a Patient. Something inside him fractured. The control he so tightly kept rapidly starts to vanish rapidly. Give 'em hell. Oh he freaking would.

His curtain is very nearly torn off the rail as he exits the sad excuse for a room, stalking out onto the glassed off walkway that would eventually lead him down. There was no stopping his futile punch of the glass.]

--

Video:

There's been a series of several dramatic and unreasonable mistakes here. I want someone who has access to the Nurse to contact me immediately about a meeting or a conversation to correct the oversight. [Raylan's voice was cold, compressed, and utterly furious at the same time without rising a fraction as he barked out his command and promptly closed the feed back down.

Spam
The first few days had Raylan pacing like a tiger up and down the panopticon, into and around the common rooms before doing it all again, using the limited space to strech his legs as his brain chewed over ways to get out of this. It would be a cold day in hell when he sang, much less sang under duress and his meals were less meal and more incidental snack.

It was all a giant Fudge You to the whole system, his small part.

The bookshelf was the second inanimate object to get his bitter, petty ire, a half moment between him muttering about the content and him clearing the shelves with bared teeth at at least two good attempts at tearing the bookshelf itself off the goshdarned wall.