alphalogs | Daycycle 20 [Feb 7

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Daycycle 20 [Feb 7 - 13]

DAYCYCLE 20
[ FEB 7 - 13 ]

MORNING

Troubleshooter Team: No specials have been selected for a mission this morning.

All other Troubleshooters: You are to report to your Service Firm positions for the day, until called on for Troubleshooter duty.

Intel: A truck full military grade explosives was stolen yesterday evening. Guards report that the thieves were mutants. Any troubleshooter willing to volunteer to search the sewers for mutants will be awarded for their time and any captures.

AFTERNOON

There is a virus travelling throughout the facility and gaining speed. It may have been a special order performed by a Nameless member who was deep in debt to Free Enterprise and chose to overlook the possible inconveniences they would be causing their fellow man. Their client, the Frankenstein Destroyers, had a very specific need - turn the humans against the robots. Thus, starting at noon robots and machines around Alpha will begin malfunctioning and working in tandem towards one particular need - destroy the humans. Some machines - like the ones in the military sector - will be outright hostile in their need to track and decimate. Others who are more sophisticated and limited in their range - like PDCs - may simply reroute information and let the humans destroy themselves with simple miscommunication.

EVENING

By early evening, any machine that hasn’t been switched off or destroyed will be working towards it’s united goal. Nameless will call for it’s members to track and destroy the virus with special recognition for anyone who can pinpoint its origin.

No sleep gas will be expelled into the barracks this evening.

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Ronan hates all of this. He's been here for three days and he's figured out a few things, but not nearly enough to be comfortable. He goes to a private boys school back home so he's somewhat accustomed to the dining hall experience, though the dining hall at Aglionby is much nicer than this.

When he sits down across and one seat over from Lydia, he smacks his tray on the table and sits down heavily. The red jumpsuit that he's wearing is unzipped on top and hanging down around his waist. He's got the black wife beater that he arrived in on underneath it.

"The fuck they get to make this shit? Blind four year olds?" Yeah, that's his idea of a greeting. Sorry?

The sound of the tray slamming against the table startles her and Lydia looks up sharply as she jumps a little with the surprise of it. The last person she expects to see is standing right in front of her — what the hell did you do to your hair?! she thinks — and, for a moment, all Lydia can do is stare at him with no words.

She blinks a little at the vulgarity. Jackson had a foul mouth once in a while, usually in bed or on the lacrosse field, but the f-bomb still sounds a little foreign. Of all the things to open with after leaving her in Beacon Hills to go to London without so much as a goodbye after she saved his life and told him she loved him, honestly. Once she remembers that, Lydia's eyes narrow a little.

"Well, hello to you, too, stranger. Long time, no see." She pauses and wrinkles her nose. "Is that a thing? In London?" she asks, gesturing vaguely at the buzz cut and lifting her eyebrows. It doesn't occur to her at all that this might not actually be Jackson, because why wouldn't it be him?

Ronan is accustomed to being stared at so he doesn't think much of it. Instead, he pokes at the food, a look of disgust on his face. He's not a picky eater but the food here is gross.

Vulgarity is normal for Ronan. He does it to shock people, to put them at a distance, to maintain the image that he's a scary thing. He smirks a little as her eyes narrow, assuming she's offended by his language as she's intended to be.

His brows raise at Lydia's words. Besides the buzz cut, she might notice the tattoo that hooks over his shoulder and his bicep. It covers his whole back as well. "Lady, I've never seen you or London." He scowls a little at her.

Lydia's own eyebrows arch at that and she turns her head just slightly in a mixture of confusion and suspicion, eyes narrowing. It comes out before she can stop it even though she can already tell that he very much isn't.

"...Jackson?"

Lydia tells herself that maybe he's just especially screwed up from the orientation; that if she gives him a minute and maybe prompts him again, he'll remember. She isn't willing to acknowledge the pang of upset that comes with thinking she could ever be forgettable to Jackson, because he was a jerk, but he was her jerk and she loved him. He was the only guy she ever had loved.

It's not hard to see the confusion and suspicion on Lydia's face. He softens a little (not much). This place is fucked about enough without him being a huge asshole (he'l settle for just an asshole).

He shakes his head. "Nope. Ronan."

He's not screwed up from orientation. He's not this guy that Lydia thinks he is, but he is a jerk. He's got no particular reason to be mean to Lydia. He doesn't know her and she doesn't pose any particular threat to him. She's stuck in the same situation (he assumes) that he is. "I'm guessing Jackson is someone that used to be here?" Or someone from home, but he doesn't say that because 'home' is still a touchy subject.

Lydia stiffens a little. Ronan. Not Jackson. Her stomach twists uncomfortably as she looks back at him. It's uncanny how much he looks like Jackson.

"Not here," she says, shaking her head. "Home." Her throat and mouth feel dry and she's not sure how exactly she's going to handle having this guy with Jackson's face around when Jackson was once her everything and she still misses him. She never talked about it, she probably never will...but she still misses him. Jackson was a very big part of her life and he just...left. No goodbye, no nothing, just left. With the lack of closure, it's been more difficult than she likes to admit and now seeing this guy around looking like his goddamned twin...

Lydia tucks her hair behind her ears and clears her throat. "Sorry, anyway. Ronan. I'm Lydia."

Not Jackson. He really doesn't want to know how much he looks like another guy. Clones he can accept; he's dreamed a clone for himself already and watched it die. People that look like him that aren't clones: that's weird.

He nods, choosing to be quiet because he can tell that whoever Jackson is Lydia cares about him.

He shakes his head at her apology. "No problem. This place is weird as hell already. So where you from, Lydia?"

Her eyes finally shift back up to meet his and she clears her throat a little.

It's hard to look at him. Really hard. But she supposes that isn't his fault and she's stronger than continuing to rudely evade his eyes. "Weird is one word for it. Terrifying is another," she responds, because that's true, to her. The never really understanding what's going on, why they're there; the knowledge that there are literally hate groups that have targeted then — her — in the past for something none of them can control, to Lydia, is scary.

"California," she answers a little belatedly. "Beacon Hills, California. You?"

He's really not used to many people making eye contact with him. It's probably because he glares at everyone and he's okay with it that way. He wouldn't feel particularly slighted if Lydia chose to continue not to make eye contact with him. As it is, he kind of admires her for it. Of course, he's not really glaring at her, just looking garden-variety sullen.

"Heneritta, Virginia." He glances around the room. "These guys sure got around in pulling people from all over."

Lydia nods a little. Across the country from her, but still a place that sounds like it exists, anyway. She tries not to dwell on that too much; on Star or Central Cities because she's never heard of them and they're supposed to be big cities...she should know them, but she doesn't.

"All over, yeah," she agrees, shifting in her seat a little uncomfortably at the thought. "There's a lot about this place that's messed up," she adds. Not the least of which is how scary alike you look to my ex, she thinks.

Yeah, Ronan would call bullshit on those cities being real as well. Who the fuck names a city Central or Star?

He snorts at her words. "Understatement of the damn year." He takes a bite of his food. It's not any good, but he's hungry. "So what's the most fucked up thing here according you?" He's still learning about this place.

Cocking her eyebrows, Lydia gives a half nod to agree with that sentiment, but she doesn't actually have any intention of elaborating until he specifically asks.

Her expression falls more serious and her eyes drift downward toward the table between them. "The Anti-Specials hate group," she replies. It isn't even a question; hands-down, that's the thing that freaks her out and bothers her the most. "And the way that they have no problem siccing four or five men and a woman on a teenage girl and nearly beating her to death for being a 'Special'. Or the fact that they video taped it. Or the fact that they broadcast it to the other Specials in an act of terrorism," she replies bitterly, finally looking up at him again. "That's the most fucked up thing about this place. If you ask me."

Edited 2016-02-26 01:18 (UTC)

He actually appreciates that. Ronan isn't a rambler. He doesn't say things just to use fill silence. In fact, often silence can work for him to get people to say things they might not ordinarily. However, that's not the case here. He's genuinely curious about this place and he's trying to make some allies if not friends.

As she speaks, one can nearly see the anger building in Ronan. His expression becomes a scowl. He's not a joiner, but he is a fighter and he can't stand it when someone is picking on a person for no good reason. "Anyone got any idea who's in charge of this hate group? 'Cause I think we can get together a group and go beat the shit out of them."

It's not hard to see that Ronan's offended at the principal of it and Lydia just thinks to herself that he's in awfully good company, being a Special and all. All of the Specials that saw that video feel the same way.

Holding her head high, she takes a deep breath. Then, she shakes her head. "No. They wore masks. I couldn't see their faces," she says, trying not to look as upset by the admission that she's the aforementioned teenage girl. "If we knew, I'm pretty sure they'd have been dealt with already. I'm one of the two women in the Specials, and I'm the younger of us, so of course they picked me to send the message. Nobody who saw the video took it very well."

Ronan can't imagine that anyone human didn't see that video the same way. He's not the nicest person ever, but he doesn't think you ought to beat someone half to death simply for not being like you. He even enjoys fighting and destroying things, but everyone he's ever punched has been able to hold their own.

Ronan's face just deepens into a scowl when Lydia admits that she's the one who was beaten. His brows are heavy over his eyes and his teeth gnash a little as his lips part in a sharp, angry scowl. "Have you got people that watch out for you now?"

Because she's got one more. Ronan has a thing for underdogs.

Lydia takes a deep breath once more, sighing it out through her nostrils. This isn't something she actually wants to continue to talk about, she realizes a little belatedly, and she shouldn't have brought it up at all.

"Yeah," she said. "I do. I did then, too, but they were stalking me, I think. They waited until I was alone and I hardly ever was." She shrugs; tries to play it off like it doesn't bother her anymore when anyone could tell that it does. "There haven't been any attacks since, I don't know. Maybe that's all, maybe they just wanted to scare us and then Steve did his speech to the whole cafeteria and they realized we weren't scared." We. That was a loose way to use the word. She still was.

Unfortunately, Ronan isn't good at not picking a sore once he sees it. It's not even conscious, just something he does.

His brows go up as he listens to Lydia. Some obvious thoughts are going through his head and for once, he thinks not to say anything because if he's thought of things like 'so it's someone you know or have seen' then she has as well.

"Buddy system. Sounds like everyone needs it until these douche nozzles get caught."

Which is probably also obvious but he had to say it.

Sighing, Lydia gives a small, curt nod. "That's the idea, I believe." She sticks to the two people she trusts the most — Ray and Barry— but mostly, Barry's the one by her side, because they work together. He goes to lunch with her and she doesn't head off without him, nor does he head off without her to meet one another down there anymore, if they can avoid it; that's what left her vulnerable to the first attack. They've learned their lesson.

"So, make some friends in the Specials group and sooner than later, I would suggest," she adds before taking a deep breath. "I should get going."

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Daycycle 20 [Feb 7 - 13]

DAYCYCLE 20

[ FEB 7 - 13 ]

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