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alphalogs2015-11-26 10:36 am
Daycycle 7 [ Nov 26-30]
DAYCYCLE 7
[ NOV 26-30 ]
MORNING
The latest batch of
Troubleshooter Team: Arty & Alec Hardison
Mission: Death Leopard is mobilizing for some sort of activity. They are identifying themselves to each other by wearing footwear of a lower clearance than their own. If you see any such citizens, capture them alive, without alerting others, and bring them here.
All other Troubleshooters: You are to report to your Service Firm positions for the day, until called on for Troubleshooter duty.
Intel: It’s been reported that an anti-Specials group is being formed. Specials are to operate with extreme caution as these hate groups have been known to single out individuals as targets.
AFTERNOON
At approximately 12:00 in the middle of the lunch rush the Commissary will mysteriously lock down. All citizens in the Commissary at this time will be trapped as a cloudy gas begins filling the space. The space will be completely filled with the inescapable gas within an hour. Citizens who inhale the gas will slowly lose consciousness and eventually die. No clearance level will open the doors.
This is a test being administered by Nameless for Matt Farrell and Dick Grayson. However, if your character is trapped within the commissary at this time and has an idea for escape that doesn’t involve the doors or windows, you are welcome to play it out. If you have any questions about the commissary layout, you are welcome to ask in the debriefing comment or @thealphacoplex on
EVENING
The
After Evening; For Steve
He had found a group of soldiers that were potentially allies. They at least made more sense in his mind than the officers giving him missions and orders. And they had provided him with a functional new arm. The metal arm was almost as functional as his old one, with the added benefits of being stronger, sturdier and a lot less prone to making him bleed when he got shot in it. He had not been as lucky with the shot to his other shoulder but it had at least been nothing more than a painful hole that needed bandages to cover. The shot had gone clean through.
The arm had a logo for Corpore Metal near the shoulder that he kept hidden under his jumpsuit, but he was far less intent on hiding his disability now that he could actually use his other arm.
Aside from the arm, his week had been spent a little less eventfully than it should have been. He had listened, looked around and worked on getting on the good side of the officers above him by playing by their rules and he had begun developing a code to keep contact with his room mate more discreet when they needed to discuss things in secret. But his growing addiction to the complex provided drugs was becoming a problem. Just before the chaos of lunch he had spent another chunk of his credits on extra doses, and he had broken three a day, already at 4 before his nightly dose in a never ending search to stop falling back into the past any time a sound, a word or even a voice sent him there.
His eyes were dark and sunken from a lack of decent sleep and there was a slight twitch to the fingers of his good arm the past few days that grew progressively worse the longer he went without a dose of HappiTime. He assumed their meeting would have to take place around the same time, and he shook off the nightly sleep drug with some effort to make his way back out to the hall. Hopefully Steve had better intel than he had, because Bucky's focus had been on the people around them more than the workings of the commands issued to him.
IT'S TIME FOR SOME DRAMA
Roughly 30 minutes before their meeting time, Steve dunked his face into a sink full of cold water. The icy cold pierced his skin as oxygen bubbles escaped his lips. When he lifts his head again, he gasps for air. The sound, usually so quiet and unnoticeable, felt to Steve like it could be heard for miles. Anyone still up at this hour must also feel in their gut that the Wagon Wheel was eerily silent at night.
By the time he was back in his room, door propped open this time, his mind was clear again. Steve needed it to be.
When Bucky arrived, they resumed their previous routine quite naturally. Door locked and backs against the furthest bunk from the camera, the two of them spoke in a low whisper. But the first thing Steve noticed was how sleep-deprived Bucky looked — and was that a twitch in his arm?
"Are you all right?" He'd spent the first week paying so much attention to everything except for Bucky, and now, seeing his friend like this, the Captain was starting to question whether or not he'd made the right call.
no subject
"I'm good." It wasn't often Bucky lied to Steve, but at times he glossed over things to spare a lecture or the concerned look in Steve's eyes. He had never spoken about his concerns for both of them before he was shipped off to war because it would not have changed anything for the better. This seemed a similar situation. He was plagued with nightmares, phantom pains in the arm that wasn't even really his and moral fatigue over constantly weighing the options between killing or sending off to punishment 'traitors' whose crimes he barely understood or accepted.
"It's just been a long week." He leaned into the bunk and stared at the wall across from them, only glancing briefly over to Steve. They knew each other too well for him to lie to Steve's face right now, and his second statement had at least been true.
"I'm no closer to understanding who we're fighting for but the longer we're stuck here the less certain I am we're still the good guys."
no subject
"Earlier this week, for a single day, I was somehow given another person's memories. They felt ... as if they were my own, even if they didn't fit into my life."
He'll go into which of Dick Grayson's memories he saw only briefly. The main point was, "It seems that memories here are transferrable. I don't know how they do it, but it's happened." Which logically means that there may be some truth to their memories being 'created.' But Steve isn't ready to make the entire jump. There's not enough evidence.
Unexpectedly, Steve let out a chuckle. "God," his eyes glanced away from Bucky for a moment, and then returned. He was smiling in disbelief. "I never thought there'd be a day in which I wished Stark was here."
But the memory swaps weren't the only thing he had to report.
"Bucky, you said earlier that you were less certain we're still the good guys. I thought perhaps the underground societies might be the answer. But that might not be the case either. Two days ago, I heard an explosion — small scale, like the sound of an amplified gunshot — so I ran towards it. In a side room, I found Arthur Ingridson, another soldier from the Very Special Forces, bleeding on the ground, clutching his legs. I dialed for emergency medical services and immediately went to inspect his wounds."
Steve leaned in closer to Bucky.
"But before I had the chance to inspect him, he grabbed ahold of my uniform. He told me he was part of a secret society named Corpore Metal." By the way Steve said the name, he'd obviously never heard of it before. "He said that Internal Security found out, and that they offered to let him live if he spied on Corpore Metal for the Computer, as a double agent, so he agreed."
Steve shook his head. Here's where it got complicated.
"His leg. The one I thought was wounded and bleeding, was a prosthetic. He told me that Corpore Metal had provided it to him, and that they'd just discovered that he was spying on them for IntSec. He said-" There's a two second pause before Steve continues, like he still isn't sure what to believe. "-He said that when they found out, Corpore Metal detonated his leg. There had been an explosive inside, from the moment they gave it to him. The shards from the explosion tore through the other parts of his body. When the paramedics arrived, he'd already stopped breathing."
no subject
Before realizing it was her memories he had half thought the drugs had caused him to hallucinate an alternate personality to go along with his recent actions and his new arm. But that had been cleared up to fill him in with tiny slivers of information about the weapon he would become some day.
Another reason he had upped the dosage of the pills.
He listened to Steve's story, holding his own comments and watching his friend recount the tale with a steadily more furrowed brow. Corpore Metal. The soldiers who had welcomed him into their fold. The man who had given him a new arm and a new lease on his functional life. It must have been a mistake or a miscommunication, what Ingridson had said. Things were not always what they seemed to be on the surface in the complex.
He cleared his throat when Steve finished and tried to start at the beginning.
"Somehow I don't think Stark would be any more understanding of what is happening here than either of us. The man is a genius, but the technology here is beyond even his mechanical magic. And since when do you have anything against him?"
Stark had seemed like a good guy to Bucky, and he had provided them with better weapons and tools to fight Hydra. He never noticed any animosity between the genius and the soldier, but maybe he had missed something.
"Are you sure this Ingridson wasn't just a decoy. It could be someone in the Complex decided to take him out when they found out he was a member. It doesn't make sense they would give him a rigged prosthetic before he turned coat on them."
no subject
Bucky thought he was talking about Howard. Which meant. Well it could mean many, many things. That Bucky doesn't remember what happened after the fall. Or just that they were getting their Starks mixed up.
"No no. I have nothing against Howard Stark. It's his son Tony that I'm talking about." He'll wait to hear what Bucky has to say about that before diving into a potentially 75-year history lesson.
"And no, I'm not sure. He could have been a decoy. He could have been lying." A beat. "He also could have been telling the truth. Rigging a prosthetic like that — it sounds like one man making sure he has leverage over another."