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Daycycle 11 [ DEC 16-20 ]
DAYCYCLE 11
[ DEC 16 - 20 ]
MORNING
Life has resumed somewhat back to normal, despite the chaotic last two days. Alec Hardison and Arty are still assigned Troubleshooters to ensure their pharmaceutical regimen is successful in wiping out traitorous thoughts.
Troubleshooter Team: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers
Mission: Due to the increase in terrorist activity, all cameras
All other Troubleshooters: You are to report to your Service Firm positions for the day, until called on for Troubleshooter duty.
Intel: Alpha Complex has successfully captured all Death Leopard
AFTERNOON
Around 1600 this afternoon all Specials will receive an encrypted invitation to Alpha Fight Club at 2000 that evening. An address and a code word will be given. The address is deep within the warehouse sector of Production.
EVENING
For those that decide to take up the invitation, they will find a group of men and women waiting for them. They will be paired up to fight one on one with these volunteer fighters. Contestants will be required to hand over all electronic devices and possible weapons to a referee beforehand. Those in the Armed Forces may recognize many of their opponents from the hallways. There is no prize, other than having the satisfaction of winning a fight fair and square. At the end of the fight, all possessions will be returned to the contestants.
Sleep aid gas is expelled into the sleeping quarters at 2100.
Daycycle 11 Debriefing & Questions
Reward and punishment will be determined by the outcome of your missions, though they may depend entirely on the current processing power of The Computer at the time and classified information not available to you. In other words, everything is never as it seems, so be prepared for anything.
Please debrief The Computer and your Briefing Officer on your mission using the form below.
Pending any objection from Bucky-mun!
Troubleshooters Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark
Mission outcome: All cameras are quality checked. Many that were previously broken are now fixed. A small, strategic number of cameras however, are now secretly operating on a timed loop during certain hours of the day.
Alpha Complex Damage: None
Traitorous Casualties: None
Citizen Casualties: None
Intel gained: The location of all the cameras, and a copy of the key used to access them.
Afternoon - Lydia Martin & OTA
Having finished her lunch, she's sitting alone at a table with her finished meal pushed just out of the way, because she's mulling over more than a few things. Part of her wants to go; to see how other people fight and to see if there is anyone good at it that might be willing to teach her. Lydia's noticed that she's one of the very few female Specials and it draws a lot of unwanted attention her way. It isn't out of the realm of possibilities that it could put an even bigger target on her back than there already is just for being a Special in and of itself.
Another part of her just wants to know how the hell they encrypted the invitation to her. She wants to learn how to do that so she can talk to Ray and Barry, maybe even touch base with Maecenas again with a little bit of privacy. She can't bring herself to post without that safety net, even if she just was able to encrypt something to only the Specials, that would be a step in the right direction. Lydia was a genius, but she'd never paid a whole lot of attention to the computer portion of all that. If this was a chemical equation, she'd have cracked it. Computers...were not her forte.
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Ray's humor is at least the self-aware sort, if his lop-sided smirk is any indication. He'd been caught late on his shift after one of the QA folks decided that every module that came from his line needed to be completely disassembled and rebuilt because "labor is cheaper than new parts, Citizen." He stands across the table from her looking none worse for the wear, however.
The chance of friendly company and intelligent conversation is worth the possible rejection.
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"Hey, Ray. Yeah, sure."
She hasn't seen him other than in passing since the day they literally ran into one another, but he's a welcome familiarity in a place that seems to feel increasingly less welcoming with every passing day. "How've you been?" she asks. "It's been a minute."
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"My arm's fully recovered-- the medical capabilities here are astounding. You probably can't even tell I got shot." A note which Ray sounds entirely too excited about. And an effort in vain to educate him on the fact that getting shot is probably not a celebratory event. Still, it's easier to laud recovering from a bullet wound than to focus on encroaching paranoia.
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"Do you know what they did or anything?" she asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she tries to figure out which arm. The science side of her is itching to be let out to play, but it's not like there's anything to study, if Ray's not being facetious. "...I almost got trampled in that fucking mess, if you're talking about the parade..."
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"And, uh-- well I'm not entirely sure. I tried looking around the hospital, but those nurses are like sheepdogs." Not to mention between the panic and chaos and whatever they pumped him with, some of the memories had become fuzzy. "My best guess is that the surgeon used something like a biological 3D printer? It was a pretty superficial wound to begin with, but aside from the sling and a bandage they didn't dress it all that heavily."
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His explanation has her attention. As someone who had decided by her freshman year in high school that she wanted to go to college and major in biochemical and biomedical engineering, the idea of a biological 3D printer is more than a little intellectually compelling for her.
"Can I see it?" she asks before she can stop herself, the words tumbling out of her mouth unexpectedly while's still thinking them. "Your arm, I mean?" she adds even though there's no need for clarification and he's said there's nothing to see. All the same, she can't help herself. "Biological 3D printer...now that's something I'd be interested in seeing..."
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"At this rate I don't think it'll be there tomorrow." He leans back against the edge of the table, legs splayed out into the walkway behind Lydia. His head tilts away to allow her whatever access she needs to complete her inspection, which also makes it easier to ignore the glare of a few REDs three tables away.
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"How bad was it originally?" she asks, her eyes on his arm. She thinks little of reaching out and holding his bicep with one hand while moving her fingertips in exploratory touches over the raised skin of the scar. "It's not even scabbed...just straight to scar? How long did it take for you to get to this point, like...is this today's development or...?" she prompts, finally looking up at his face again even as her fingers still ghost over the skin surrounding the scar as if looking for something even though she's not sure what.
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"Right? This is the third morning since. The morning after I got shot I was in a sling, but-- it didn't feel like I needed it. Yesterday I had full use back even though it was still tender. Today? It feels like nothing even happened."
His play-by-play is a relatively quick recap, but he's not in any rush to go anywhere. It's not like he's all that eager to go to work and turn a screw exactly 3 times clockwise 400 times.
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Her hands fall away from him a moment later, when he's finished speaking, and Lydia looks back down at his arm. "That's scientifically impossible..." she breathes, but even as she does, she's looking right at it, so it's clearly not; the evidence is right in front of her face. Lydia looks back up at Ray's face again.
"Do you know what they did? Is it tech or medicine? Do you remember anything?" she asks, one question right on the tail of the other, because the secret science nerd that lives inside her, hiding under makeup and shiny curls of red, is positively screaming for attention; to be let out to play.
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The surgeon had even seemed a little ... put off by Ray's boisterous reaction of being practically insta-healed, now that he thinks about it. He's really got to start remembering to play all his memories off like glitches; act like he's been here forever.
"I mean, I've had some experience with medical nano-technology but as far as I can tell they didn't inject anything..." If anything, they could've removed the nanotech swimming around in Ray's body. He lowers his voice then, leaning back toward Lydia. "You know, everything about this place is drastically advanced compared to what I'm used to. Just the sole fact that we're here? Impossible, right?"
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Her eyes shift back and forth between Ray and over his shoulder to the REDs watching them passively. She's grateful when Ray leans closer and lowers his voice, because she worries that they're drawing too much attention.
Nodding, Lydia chews her bottom lip thoughtfully for a few seconds before responding. "Same here. Even some of what you're saying is in its infancy where I come from," she admits in a hushed voice. "Nano-tech is nowhere near the stage it could actually be used, it's all largely theoretical or prototypical. What is this place...?"
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It's easy enough to roll, considering the mass-brainwashing and immense stress the Computer seems so easily able to inflict.
"Because trust me, once you start thinking about the fact that we're apparently clones whose brains they can mess with however they want..." He trails off, jumpsuit now completely replaced. Ray's eyes drift downward. He'd already been down this train of thought a thousand times and it never ends well. Talk about a wrench in brain-gears.
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"I don't think about that," she says cooly, her voice still low so that it's specifically meant for Ray to hear. "I'm not a goddamned clone. I don't believe that for a second," she whispers. "And I don't think you do, either."
With that, Lydia gets to her feet, looking around surreptitiously. "I gotta go, I'll see you later, okay?" She keeps her voice lofty and light, letting him know she isn't upset with him, because she isn't.
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"Of course. Take care, Lydia." It's not anger but concern that furrows his brow as he watches her leave.
ota | single thread for if you want to help with the fight; others plz just assume it's afterward
She'd arrived early at breakfast, hunched shoulders and large sallow eyes evoking the image of a woman easily bullied. Her stringy brown hair tops a baggy jumpsuit that fails to hide her lanky frame even as it engulfs her. It's easy to think that at a first glance this newbie is fresh meat. Easy prey.
She goes down easy, even, face against the table beside her untouched slop. The thud of force draws no blood, but it's enough to make anyone stop and look. And anyone who doesn't look closely enough misses the blankness in her eyes and the quirk of her mouth...
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"Leave her alone."
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"All I asked was where the best sandwich shop around here is." She's still smirking, still clearly taking none of this seriously. Her head pops up as Root's aggressor backs off. Maybe they hadn't meant to make such a loud fuss. Maybe Root had simply pressed the right buttons.
When she turns to face the other woman, who mumbles something derogatory before continuing to back off, Root's above-average height is clear. For a woman, though she's slight, her 5'8" frame is tall enough to ward another assault off. For now.
Finally, she turns to get a better look at Barry. Her eyes move from his face to his toes, and then back up again in obvious assessment. But she waits to speak -- could be he's no white knight at all, of course. Your move, skinny.
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"Are you okay?" Barry asks, very aware that the victim seems to be measuring him up. He hasn't seen her around here before and her attitude is only the kind that comes with being a Special. Or someone not raised in total servitude.
He gestures towards her face. "Do you want some ice for that?"
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Wow, this just gets whitier and knightier. Her body language relaxes and Root even shrugs one shoulder, a lackadaisical, indifferent motion. There's no reason to keep her guard up with such an upstanding citizen before her.
"Nobody told me there were seating arrangements." Not that it wasn't completely obvious. Not that Root wasn't looking to start something in the first place. She's still a little lost but it's defensiveness (y'know, the offensive kind) that has filled the space where hopelessness and fear should.
Except hopeless and afraid is exactly what she's feeling. Having had the Machine give her directives for over a year, being without it really throwing her for a loop. Root's not even sure whether she should affect one of her many identities, yet. Without the right leverage, it's almost pointless.
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"No, but, uh, yeah, everyone sits by color clearance around here. As specials people either tolerate us or hate us, so you have to be careful." He holds out his hand. "I'm Barry, by the way."
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"I'm, uh, Samantha." Until she can find a way to change it, maybe it's best to stick to her given name. 'Samantha' smiles, shrugging.
"I woke up, or whatever, yesterday. I think. They made me watch a lot of history videos." Super fun, that.
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"This place doesn't really make much sense. The specials are the only ones that have these glitches, everyone else, from what I understand, don't have those memories."
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"I mean, considering the entire universe still hasn't been proven not to be one big ol' computer simulation? We can't really know." Hell, back home people wouldn't believe two artificial intelligences were at war during their everyday lives. Root may not be able to make sense of Alpha Complex, but she's not about to start trying by making assumptions.