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alphalogs2016-01-07 07:30 pm
Daycycle 15 [JAN 6-10]
DAYCYCLE 15
[ JAN 6 - 10 ]
Alpha Complex can be a very difficult to move up in once you’ve made the right kind of enemies. No one knows this better than Naldo Daly, a self-proclaimed genius in the Drug Interaction department of R&D. He’s been trying to win the favor of the computer for years, only to have his superiors take the credit for his work. Not this time.
This morning Daly will have slipped a new drug he’s been working on in his free time into the water supply that goes directly to the Wagon Wheel. The drug is meant to change behavior of traitors into behaviors that are more acceptable in Alpha society. It not only succeeds in changing a person’s brain chemistry and bringing about the opposite of their natural, traitorous intentions but it also brings forth personality traits that are usually less dominant. In other words, Alpha is awakening to the dawn of Opposite Day.
Reactions will vary from person to person. For some the effects will only last an hour or so. For others, it could last several hours. Of course, it’s possible that some citizens have become addicted to bouncy bubbly beverage and won’t have any contact with the drug at all.
Troubleshooter Team: No Specials are selected for a mission today.
Mission: None.
All other Troubleshooters: Specials are to salvage what they can of their belongings and move to new temporary rooms in the ORANGE clearance level. Even those not destroyed internally have been determined unsafe by engineers. Enjoy real curtains, a small kitchenette, a shared bathroom and a bubbly bouncing drink machine by the elevators. Temporary rooming assignments are as follows:
1202 - S. Rogers - G. Maecenas
1203 - T. Stark - Parker
1204 - R.Palmer - B. Allen
1205 - D.Grayson - A.Hardison
1206 - J.Wilcox - M. Farrell
1207 - S.Groves - L. Martin
1208 - P. Carter
Intel: It’s believed that whoever the arsonist who acted against the Specials is might have had an intimate knowledge of the security camera logistics as no evidence was recorded.
Since the Specials have a day off - for many the first since their arrival - they may want to check out the latest exhibit at the museum. It contains the Complex’s greatest artifact, a typewriter dated nearly 100 years B.C. (before The Computer). It is on display for a limited amount of time and is heavily guarded by the Very Special Armed Forces. The Museum will be open from Noon to 2000.
If history isn’t something that interests the Specials, they should try cutting loose at the Strobe where it’s newest laser show is a virtual explosion of seizure inducing color and the drinks are half price tonight.
Sleep aid gas will be expelled at 2100.
Afternoon & Evening
Parker's off to the museum. It's a longstanding hobby of hers to wander around museums, but she's not looking at the artifacts. Who goes to museums to look at artifacts?
She's studying the security system. For a place run by the a supposedly brilliant computer, spotting blank spots in the coverage is simple. (It's easier than the Louvre, but harder than the V&A. It's a thousand times easier than a Steranko and 100 times harder than the Antiquities wing at the Cairo Museum.)
For a museum, there's very little here she would consider valuable. Where are the diamonds? Where are the ancient coins? Where are the precious works of art?
Seriously, a typewriter?
Evening:
Parker is not taking the new rooming situation well.
"EEE!" Yeah, there are no words, just things to be thrown.
Evening
The fact that she is intentionally not using words as she throws things at him is even more annoying. ]
Can you just-- [ He ducks what looks like a screwdriver that comes inches from his head and smashes into the wall behind him. ] Shit! [ He grabs a pillow off of one of the bed and tries to use it as a shield.] Calm down!
Re: Evening
Words? Why use words when one can beat another person senseless with objects? One should note that she has far more objects than most. The screwdriver didn't suit her purposes anyway, so why not use it to get this man who is not Hardison out of her room.
Is that a stapler she's taken from one of the offices? Is that a stapler she's taken from one of the offices now flying towards his head?
Yes, yes it is.
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"What is your problem?" He yells out as he plucks the stapler from his arm and throws it at her feet. No. No! Why did he throw it back to her? God, he's an idiot.
"Do I know you?" Usually, women don't throw things at him unless they know him.
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"I. Don't. Sleep. With. You." So now she's a little clearer, especially by Parker standards.
For the record, she's taken exactly 71 pens. That's a lot of punctuation.
Plus, she's got the stapler again.
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He swipes downwards to grab the stapler, but he's too slow and now he's basically staring the blond fury down. He pulls himself up, shielding himself as much as possible with the pillow while trying to maintain some kind of face.
"I was assigned this room same as you. Believe me, I'm not that crazy about it either."
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That's Captain America's name from now on, Evil Orange.
"Find Hardison. Trade rooms." Not only isn't she intimidated by the Tony Stark stare but also, she's sounding like she's threatening him.
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"Rogers? You think Rogers is evil?"
He matches her stare. He's hardly going to be intimidated by someone less than 100lbs soaking wet. Even if he doesn't miss that threat in her tone. "Who the hell is Hardison?"
He knows, of course, even if he hasn't met him. He's seen his work behind the network, that doesn't mean he can't play dumb.
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Obviously, this man's been hit in the head far too many times. If she ever finds out he doesn't think she's dangerous, nothing would ever convince her he's some genius tech billionaire.
"The one who sleeps in here."
Clear, concise, threatening: it's a trifecta of tones. Not knowing who Hardison is qualifies as a serious character flaw to Parker.
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He raises his eyebrows. "You know, I didn't choose this room, right? We were assigned?" But the point doesn't really seem to matter. He isn't going to get any sleep here if she's within twenty feet. He shrugs. "So you and this Hardison are a thing huh?"
"He must be a brave man."
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Staplers can be hurled while people are asleep too. In fact, still targets are excellent for stapling in Parker's experience.
She tilts her head as she's not the one who usually has to explain about Hardison. In fact, she never does. They just are and Hardison's always cool with that. Nate and Sophie don't ask any questions, and Eliot just wanders off if Parker's about to get naked, whether Hardison's involved or not.
So, she thinks of the best possible way to describe what they are. "He's Hardison. He sleeps here, with me. You don't."
In Parkerland (a strange place filled with unheard music and Santa Claus) that's a confession of deep and abiding love.
Afternoon
It's obvious the woman is not just a professional, but a complete natural.
"Typewriter fetish?" Root's voice is low, when she settles herself at Parker's side. Her head tilts back as she ganders up at one of the cameras, before her hand comes up to show a map on her device. It's the building they're standing in, with little red dots slowly pulsing in every corner corresponding to the cameras. "Don't worry, nobody up there is spying with their little eyes."
Re: Afternoon
The only initial acknowledgement that she heard at all is a slight tightening of her jaw, and curl of her lip. Parker takes great pride in not being noticed.
People who notice her on a job are people to worry about. This woman has already lied to her. Someone is spying with her little eye and that worries Parker.
This woman needs consideration, and thus Parker finally looks at her. It's just a quick glance, but Parker sees more in a quick glance than many do with hours of study. She's only become better learning from Nate. Count the haircuts. That thought would make actual sense to those who know her, so she says, "One haircut," as if it's the socially appropriate answer.
"Like computers better." She likes the people who program them better than anyone.
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It's obvious Root's been assessed, and outside Alpha Complex the lack of assault might indicate that the interaction wasn't about to go terribly. Still, anything could happen (hopefully).
"In that case, whoever you're shopping for is lucky. Despite their awful taste. What's your plan? Coming back tonight I assume?"
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"Ffffft." It's an awkward, childish noise. "One here is crazier than me." Another side-eye in the direction of the woman. Did she say that last part out loud? Sometimes, Parker isn't sure.
"I don't shop. Don't understand the need for so many shoes." Has Parker ever legitimately bought anything? The jury's still out on that.
She nods toward the typewriter. "The computer can't control typewriters." Is that why this is so wanted? And with terribly feigned innocence, "I don't have a plan."
In that case, it's true. She's still formulating it. The problem for her is the curfew. The break in will be easy.
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"Please. As if they aren't all crazier than I am." Her head nods out toward the small groups of museum-goers. People who herd around like sheep-- even more willing and aware of how controlled their lives are than the general public Root left behind.
She turns to lean back against the guard rail, watching the security goons do a terrible mockery of their jobs.
"Wearing the same things, day in and day out. I like variety myself. A closet full of shoes. A change in hair." Her look directs back to Parker, pointed and obvious. "I don't usually do blonde, but I'm sure I could be persuaded."
It would be fun to help Parker get her hands on this typewriter, anyway. It's not like she couldn't use the practice.
"It's a shame, it'll probably be put back wherever it belongs after close."
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"I'd rather keep my money than buy 1200 dollar boots." She shakes her head, in disbelief Sophie could ever waster her money like that. "Infrared clothing's better. Blends." Shadows, alleys, and darkness: three friends of the thief.
Tilting her head, almost unnaturally, she considers the woman as a blond. "Nope. Don't do blond." Maybe it's the eyebrows. Maybe it's Parker's inability to pick up on body language and inflection.
That strange noise is back. "It's not a shame. Maybe it doesn't belong where it is, or where it's going." Sort of like her.
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"Maybe that's what makes it special," she says, without looking up. A few more lines of code should just about do it.
"Either way, it's antiquated. I'd be surprised if the Computer even realized what it really is. Sounds like an advantage, to me." She adjusts again, tucking her device away and bracing her hands on the rail opposite sides of herself.
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"Special snowflake. Crazy. Broken." She knows all of the euphemisms. Usually such things escape her but since so many have been tossed her way, their use is natural. She wonders what the device is that's holding the other woman's attention. Maybe Hardison would want it?
Or maybe, for one brief moment, they are having the same conversation. "Can't hack a classic." Parker stands unnaturally still, but grins madly.
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"Are you thirsty? I'm gonna grab a soda." Also ... are the guards all leaving, one by one? That seems kinda weird.
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Did she do this?
It takes a thief...
"That all you're grabbing?" For all the completely unintended innuendo, Parker's put a question, a challenge out there.
It takes a thief to know one, after all.
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"Seems like I got everything I need already." Didn't you know, knowledge is power? "You, though. I don't think you've checked that shopping list off yet."
Takes a thief indeed.
"See you around, Parker."
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"You tell me what you did, and I'll get you anything." Within the museum -- sadly, she doesn't add that point. It's a good offer: one that means they can both have what they want, or they have enough on the other to stop from being turned in.
Win-win in Parkerland. She doesn't ask about her name. Those bloody morning briefings all but announce it daily, but Parker's not paid attention to the others. She'll have to get this one's name. It might be worth remembering.
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"How? Credits talk." Everyone has a price, and Root loves paying people with other people's coin.
"Exhibit 67-G. I have a soft spot for thumb drives." Especially ones with old school viruses on them. She raises her eyebrows this time-- can she go quench her thirst, now?
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