There is a hierarchy to the international criminal syndicate known as the 'Black Organisation.'
Firstly, everyone is a Crow.
[Black Organisation-centric Conan fanfic] [canon divergence] [OCs, not self-inserts]
One such Crow is the hacker Janvier Ma...
Shuichi Akai's case notes: "Spilled Tequila" (dated: 1 Aug 2010)
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2 August, 2010 Queens, N.Y., USA
Jen isn't a huge fan of being driven.
She remembers this now, after the short-lived freedom of having had her bike back for two and a half days and presently sitting in a taxi with a grim-faced driver, stuck in traffic on the way to the airport. It's not exactly claustrophobia, but there is an intense discomfort associated with not being able to move as freely as you want to.
It's not so bad in public transport, because that's always along certain set paths (in fact the structure brings comfort). And it's not so bad when someone she knows (like a friend or family member, or even just a colleague).
On her birthday night, the driver and her own excitement were plenty distracting, too – but today, the lack of personal agency compounds and exacerbates itself.
(Her machines and technology, the things that give her ability and potential beyond her human form, are gone. She brought her PCs and bike to the freight transports this morning, along with her other heavy cargo: extra suitcases of books, sewing machine, the guitar her flatmates bought her a few birthdays ago, some furniture which she's particularly fond of, the paintings that she'd nearly forgotten in the basement.)
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