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Daycycle 105 [ August 28 - September 03]

daycycle 105

[Aug 28 - Sept 3]

Early Morning [0800 - 0900] — All Troubleshooters Report for Duty
Felicity Smoak and Natasha Romanoff, have been selected for today’s mission. Details are below:

‘In order to help us improve our combat simulators, you will need to run through any combat situation you encounter at least three times. On the second pass through, engage the combat at a greater range than originally. On the third pass through, attempt it at a much closer range. You will provide tactical notes to our staff afterwards. If the simulators catch fire, or fail to respond to override commands... note that too. The eggheads were supposed to have fixed that.’

Please debrief the computer on the status of your mission by the end of the Daycycle here.

Morning & Afternoon [0900 - 1600] — Service Firm Positions
All Troubleshooters not assigned a mission should report to their Service Firm for their daily duties, unless specifically assigned a different shift.

Evening [1600 - 2200] — Citizen Improvement
All Alpha citizens are encouraged to better themselves through Alpha’s wide variety of educational, entertainment and cultural opportunities offered each evening. Attending these sanctioned events are not mandatory, but is highly encouraged by The Computer. Citizens choosing not to take advantage of these opportunities, have a growing number of other options available to them in how to spend their hard earned credits and free time.

Tonight’s event will be at 1700 in Hangar 15, Armed Forces Sector and will be hosted by the Alpha Complex Dogeball Association. Join us for a game of Alpha Dodgeball! All clearance levels above INFRARED welcome.

Alpha Curfew Restrictions
All Alpha citizens should be in their quarters within the Wagon Wheel by 2200, unless they’ve been given permission from a GREEN or higher clearance level citizen. Sleeping Aid gas is dispelled each night in the Wagon Wheel at 2200 to assist citizens in getting a productive sleeping period.

Confession Booths
There are hundreds of confession booths available around Alpha Complex if a citizen would like to communicate directly with the computer. Please use these confession booths to report mission statuses, report treason or terrorist acts, unregistered mutants, confess your trespasses against Alpha Complex, request propaganda or speak with Your Friend, The Computer, at any time.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

It had been Oliver's intention to be the wallflower of the day. He was going to stand on the edges of the crowd and watch the people during the morning briefing. Get a sense of how things worked around here. Who the movers and shakers of this odd community were. Who seemed to be communicating with each other and who seemed to be working the room. But then he heard Felicity's name and that all changed.

In the handful of hours he'd been here, he'd never considered that he'd run into someone he knew. He'd assumed that they were all safely back home. Worst case scenario, if this were some kind of bizarre future, he assumed that they had all lived out there lives as peacefully as they could. Hell, they'd called him a clone. Maybe he'd lived out his life as peacefully as he could with them. Although given his life, it was doubtful that peaceful was on the menu. But at least maybe he'd lived. And now here he was and Felicity was with him. Felicity was being sent on combat duty.

He tried to make his way through the crowd as unobtrusively as he could, but he ended up elbowing more than a few people on his way to try to find her, but he couldn't find her. She was here but gone and he wasn't sure if he'd felt anything more frustrating in his life. He clenched his fists and returned to one of the walls. Back to people-watching. Except now he had a purpose. He was looking for more people he knew. Who else could be here? His sister? John? Roy?

He was more than a little conflicted about the idea. On the one hand, he'd have a built-in team to help him figure out what this place really was and take it down, but on the other, he wouldn't wish this place on them. It was like some futuristic 1984 where Big Brother was the machine and it really was watching you. Well, Felicity was the best hacker he knew. If she had to be here, soon they would be watching Big Brother.

Personally, Ronan thinks morning briefing is stupid. However, it's the best way to figure out what fresh hell this place has in store for them for the day. He likes knowing if Adam is going to be off on a mission. He also likes checking out the new arrivals; he keeps hoping that Gansey will show up as selfish as that is. Hey, no one ever accused Ronan of being selfless.

He's standing on the outskirts of the crowd, listening and giving the weird message he'd gotten moments ago some thought. His eyes are narrowed and he's giving everyone and everything the stink eye as he tries to determine who might be sending the messages. He doesn't think it's the computer since he's pretty sure an organized fight club is treason. Hell, he's pretty sure breathing is treason here.

Despite being forced to sleep early, Buffy isn't a morning person and the stuff that passes for coffee on a RED level, isn't coffee. She attends the morning briefing, blurry eyed with 'coffee' in hand. She's got her hair pulled back in a knot and the black eye and bruising from yesterday's riots are still pretty livid. She's sore all over and not in the least bit happy. This being entirely human (she still isn't buying the glitches thing; those memories are too real. It's got to be a demon, or maybe another geek squad like Andrew and Jonathan.

After the briefing, she goes into her job, grateful that there's nothing major like yesterday going on.

In the evening, she's feeling a bit better and dodgeball sounds like fun, which is something she could use. It's also a chance to have a look at everyone else. It's amazing how something like dodgeball can reveal someone's character.

There. It didn't take Oliver too long to narrow in on a familiar face. One with an unfamiliar expression. He'd seen all kinds of expressions on Roy's face including a lot of the darker ones: anger, frustration, grief, loss. But he'd never seen anything quite like the expression of wariness that he saw there now and it worried him.

Was it something to do with the mission Felicity had been sent on? Was Thea here? Or maybe things were bad enough that he was looking like that because of himself. Either way, it didn't bode well for Oliver's immediate future. He needed to go talk to Roy and figure out why he was looking like that. And maybe talking to someone he knew was going t get him more information than simply asking random strangers. At least it'd been information he'd trust.

He slid along the wall and put a hand on Roy's shoulder when he was within range.

"She's okay, isn't she?" Thea, Felicity. He meant both.

EARLY MORNING MISSION

Natasha doesn't like being used as a crash dummy, and that's exactly what they're doing to her.

Being put on a mission to take down a dangerous terror cell is one thing, but this isn't the same thing and Natasha isn't naive. The missions she went on with her teammates, the ones where she put her life on the line, were necessary, and she was there because she was valuable. This, though... this lets Natasha know exactly what she's considered as, and that's expendable. Putting her on something as lowly as a test subject for a simulation makes it clear that if anything goes wrong, whoever's in charge is willing to lose her. She's disposable; nothing more than a number.

And that's just fine with Natasha.

They've given her the best cover she could have ever gotten for herself, and that was the power of being underestimated. It's a perk that's hard to come by back home now that everybody knows who she is, but here, this 'computer', it devalues her, and Natasha's going to let it. She needs to get a feel of what's going on in this place, and when she does that's when she'll formulate a plan. For now, she'll be expendable. It isn't the first time a tyrannical system told her what her self worth was and Natasha has escaped situations like this before. She will again, she just has to be patient.

It's the others that Natasha is worried about; people like this girl, Felicity. They put her on the same par as Natasha and the Russian doesn't know whether or not it's supposed to be a sick joke, but it's not funny. With no offense to her, the blonde woman doesn't know a damn thing about proper defensive tactics, let alone offensive. Two fully functional droids not unlike the ones that Ultron had unleashed upon Sokovia were released within the simulation room and Natasha was able to disarm one without too much damage, blaster with temporary barrel still secured to her hip. Felicity, however, seemed to be in actual danger, something else that Natasha thinks is ridiculous because why in the hell would they actually make these 'simulations' lethal? She moves quickly, ripping the metal arm off of the droid she subdued and turning to swing it with surprising speed, knocking the head of the second droid right off of it's shoulders. She knocks the rest of it to the floor with a kick, breathing heavily as she makes sure the twitching isn't a sign that it's about to get back up before her intense green gaze moves to the blonde woman standing before her.

"We need to teach you how to hit something, sweetheart."

LATE MORNING/EARLY AFTERNOON

After the ridiculous mission that Natasha had been placed on she decides that it's in her best interest to stay under the radar. She wants to explore her new surroundings, but not to the point where she looks painfully out of place or, worse, defective. Perhaps her past has made her paranoid, but in Natasha's opinion, paranoia is a plus in a place like this. She spends a good amount of time following the flow of foot traffic, blending in with groups of red jumpsuits and using their natural pathways to explore as much as she can before she deviates only to make her way to her living quarters. She doesn't want to look around too much in a short amount of time, instead preferring to give off the impression that she's planning on staying here for the rest of her life and, thus, is in no rush. She does, however, want to give her living space an inconspicuous once over... she's already assuming that the room is bugged because it's safer to assume the worst in this case, but it'll make her feel better if she can get visual confirmation.

She navigates her way through the Wagon Wheel, taking time to memorize as much as she can during her slow trip to her room.

CITIZEN IMPROVEMENT

Natasha has two choices; go to this 'dodgeball' game, or don't. She doesn't want to seem standoffish, assuming that she's being watched constantly until she's told otherwise, but at the same time Natasha doesn't want to be seen as too eager to integrate herself into a strange society. This whole thing is run by The Computer, from what she can tell, but Natasha knows enough about computers to know that there's always someone, or something, behind them. Whether that's the maintenance staff that debugs the thing or some other cloak and dagger group, she doesn't know, but the point is that there may be human influence higher up, and Natasha wants to seem enthusiastically curious without coming off as suspiciously complacent.

So she decides 'don't'. Instead, she makes her way to commissary, carefully navigating herself around her new 'home' without crossing lines and barriers that are out of her painfully low clearance before finding the location where she's allowed to buy things with the currency she's authorized to carry. This place has such a Red Room feel to it that Natasha can almost smell the gunpowder and blood in the air. Half of that may not just be in her head, though.

Barry has seen Buffy around and knows that she's one of the new Specials, but he hasn't actually had a chance to try to get to know her yet. When he spots her at the morning meeting, he makes his way over to her, matching coffee in hand. He isn't sure what it says about him or his caffeine dependency when he says he's beginning to get used to it.

"You're Buffy, right?" He says, as the other Troubleshooters mill about them. He takes in her black eye and winces in sympathy. "Hi, I'm Ouch." He pauses. "Barry. I'm Barry. That looks like ouch."

Ronan's head is also shaved and the barbs of a tattoo can be seen snaking above the neck of the red jumpsuit he's wearing. Wary is absolutely the expression on his face and he doesn't like being wary so that's tempered with anger (as expressions usually are with Ronan).

None of the above, but then Ronan isn't who Oliver thinks he is so that's not surprising.

Ronan flinches when someone places their hand on his shoulder. He looks at Oliver and snarls, all but growling at him. "The fuck you talking about?"

Oliver tensed at the snarl in the man's voice. And it was 'man', not 'Roy'. There was something different about the voice. Hair, tattoos. Those could be added and removed as needed, but there was no point in changing your voice unless you had to hide and he was fairly sure that it would be hard to hide that here. Besides, it was such a subtle differentiation.

"Sorry," he said, actually meaning the apology. "You look like someone I know. Roy Harper."

Unfortunately, it also had the side effect of making him reconsider that whole 'cloning' and 'memory' speech from last night. He wasn't sure if it was impossible, per se, to have an exact double of you without being a twin, but it was highly improbable and even more improbable that you would run into one of someone you knew. He hadn't thought to look in a mirror yet. Would he see his own face or someone else's?

Barry was equally as alarmed to hear Felicity's name called out for the mission that morning. The meeting room was crowded however, and he couldn't seem to find her before the meeting went on. Worry settled in the pit of his stomach as he moved through the crowd looking for Cisco.

Instead, he saw another - wholly unexpected - face in the crowd. He moved towards Oliver as people pushed past him to exit the room. "Oliver?"

Again he felt the same mix of relief and guilt that someone he knew was there. Who would be next? Iris? Joe? Wally? He hoped not. Alpha wasn't the kind of place that he would've wished upon his worst enemy, let alone his family or his friends. He called out his name louder, over the roar of the crowd. "Oliver!"

That voice. He knew that voice, although his memories placed it with somewhere far less dark than here. For as crazy as Central City could be, he never really associated it with darkness like he did Star City. Or this place, from what he'd seen thus far. But there was Barry Allen coming toward him and he wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed to see him. The more familiar faces he saw, the more he worried who else was here.

"Barry," he said, jerking his head in a nod when Barry came within speaking distance. He wanted to take the man by the shoulders and shake him, demanding explanations, but he was aware that they were likely being watched and he wasn't going to cause a scene until he understood the rules.

"That was our Felicity I heard being called?"

He was fervently hoping that Barry said no, that it was another Felicity Smoak, even if that didn't make any sense. Maybe there were two people who looked like Roy, but two people name Felicity Smoak? Coincidence didn't stretch that far.

Felicity had been practically paralyzed with fear when she heard her name. Sitting among the masses in the Commissary that morning, she'd stayed seated, frozen to her chair as the Troubleshooter on stage read out the mission guidelines.

She knows she's been lucky. Most people didn't get four entire days before their first mission, but somehow, she'd just hoped that maybe it was because there weren't any missions suitable for her skills. But given that today was going to be about combat testing, that theory no longer held.

So she takes a breath, closes her eyes and gives herself three seconds to be afraid. Then she promises herself she'll be brave again.

One.
Two.
Three.

When Felicity's eyes open again, there's only determination.

In fact, she stays brave, even dauntless despite how clueless she was, all the way until mid-way through the simulation. All she knows how to do is shoot a gun — or a blaster, in this case. So she shoots, with terrible posture, with her eyes closed, and with a signal to Natasha that she was probably a danger to herself in this scenario. And that's when the second droid is coming at her and its torso spontaneously bursts into flames.

Felicity takes a step back and feels the cold, glossy texture of the tiled wall push up against her hand. No where left to run. She was convinced that this is going end in certain death — okay maybe just in certain injury — when Natasha swings hard, and the robot's head is torn off its shoulders.

She blinks, in shock as her eyes dart from the broken head to Natasha, then back and forth again.

"Uh. Yes. Thank you," she says, one hand clutching her chest and the other bracing against the wall. "That sounds like an incredibly useful skill to have." She swallows. "In this situation."

For a moment Barry wondered if it wasn't Oliver at all, but another person who looked like him. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd seen anything like that and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. But then Oliver said his name and any doubt was wiped clean from his mind.

Barry nodded as he came to a stop in front of him. He could tell from the expression on Oliver's face that he wasn't going to like any explanation, but Barry had to give him what he had. "They select us randomly for missions, sometimes."

Dangerous missions. He just hoped that Felicity would have the support of whoever she'd been selected with. "When did you get here?"

When Steve first heard about dodgeball, he'd considered going, but ruled it out once he realized that him throwing a dodgeball into anyone was going to result in terrible consequences. Even if he didn't have the full extent of his strength here, he still had more muscles than most of the Troubleshooters. Plus — and he really hates that he's even thought of this — if he even accidentally injured someone, he knows that it's going to be all over the news the next day.

Somehow, he'd become a political symbol. Again.

So instead, he's sitting in the Commissary, looking over some pieces of paper when he looks up and sees Natasha Romanoff in the distance. Disbelief was quickly followed by frustration. Technical Services was supposed to alert him every time there was a new arrival so that he could tell people everything they needed to know — so no one ended up interrogated or questioned because of a stupid mistake.

Steve gets up, immediately.

Natasha looks down at the droid on the floor once more, her arms going loose and shoulders sagging to release the tension that she had to build for her swing. She looks at the dismembered arm in her hand, wrist still twitching in confusion, and she lets it drop unceremoniously to the ground before cracking the slightest of smiles at Felicity's response. The poor girl is panicked, but not as much as a basic civilian would be... either she's got a few non-basic civilian experiences under her belt, or she's got herself a decent resolve that Natasha admired. Either way, the lack of screaming and frantic crying is a plus, in her book.

"Don't thank me yet, there are three rounds. That was the first. Let me ask you something," Natasha's chin tilts a little in a lazy nod as she walks her way over to Felicity's side, pointing to the blaster the woman has in her hand before taking her own out of it's holster for the first time. "How are you going to shoot something with your eyes closed?" Despite the sarcasm in the comment Natasha's tone is warm, and she stays at Felicity's side as the ugly alarm starts to blare in the simulation chamber to announce the next wave of droids. The far wall opens as they shamble in and Natasha doesn't move, remembering her instructions - distance.

"Firm wrist, relax your hand." If she's going to give the blonde a few lessons she might as well start now, and Natasha's arm lifts to point her blaster at the robotic skeletons slowly moving their way closer. "Arm as straight as you can make it. They tell you that you need to keep still - that's bullshit, nobody with a pulse can stay perfectly still so you need to make up for it. Both eyes open, and here's the trick." Natasha nods her head to the side in Felicity's direction to make sure she has her attention, despite her own vision not moving away from her target. "You don't look at your target, you look at your front sight, or the end of your barrel. Your target will be in your back sight so it'll be blurry, but that's alright. You're going to be able to make the shape out enough to be accurate. So, firm wrist, loose hand, straight arm, use both if you need to. Front sight, relaxed finger."

Natasha shoots twice, one after another, and the blaster hits two droids on the end squarely between the eyes with such accuracy that they're knocked off of their feet to collapse motionlessly on the ground. "Brace your shoulder for recoil. Although the recoil on this thing isn't bad at all..." the last part is said as an afterthought as she looks at her blaster with an impressed little facial shrug before it falls to her side, one droid still slowly advancing. Natasha moves behind Felicity to give the stranger an encouraging tap on the shoulder. "You try. Remember, both eyes open." She stares over the other woman's shoulder to try to line up her sight as close as possible and make sure that her posture stays where it needs to be if she actually wants to try to shoot the thing.

"I'm Natasha."

For anybody else the sudden movement of someone standing wouldn't mean much, but Natasha is already on edge in this place, especially considering the morning that she had. So the sudden shift catches her attention and Natasha's head turns, only to see him; Steve Rogers, in all of his patriotic glory. He's wearing green, which really isn't his color, in her opinion, but she's not surprised at all that he's climbed through the ranks.

She also isn't surprised to see him in the first place, not with all of the posters that are hanging around the place. It was a rude awakening, learning through what was nothing more than a public personal ad that her friend was stuck in this place as well - if she can even still call him that. They had left on uncertain terms, and Natasha doesn't know how he feels when it comes to her anymore. Perhaps he sees her as a traitor, and Natasha tells herself that that's fine. It's not. But if she acknowledges that then she has to acknowledge that she's truly alone, and she doesn't want to do that in a place like this. It's why she hasn't tried to seek him out. She's not looking forward to having that question answered.

It's obvious now, though, that they've noticed each other, and Natasha isn't one to pretend that something doesn't exist for the sake of her own comfort. Instead she sighs to herself and turns, moving his way, and he looks much more shocked to see her than she does seeing him. "Hey, eligible bachelor," she calls out to him a little louder than necessary, because if he wants nothing to do with her the least Natasha can do is try to get one last dig in before he cuts her off completely. "What's that twenty seven stand for?" Her voice lowers to an appropriate volume the closer she gets, and she halts to a stop at a safe distance of two feet. "I'd ask if it was inches but I think we both know that's not the case, your uniform didn't leave that much to the imagination."

"Last night," Oliver said as he pondered seven simple words that changed everything for him. Missions. They were sent on missions and not just the people who had combat experience. But if the computer really believed that they were all blank slates, then all they were waiting for was the proper atmosphere to learn a new skillset. A dangerous atmosphere. If these missions were going to be given randomly to people not even assigned to a compatible unit, he was going to have to train Felicity.

But first, he was going to have to see her. The most he could hope for the moment was that whoever was with her was keeping her safe until she had a chance to do her thing.

"I've experienced the orientation." He didn't believe it, at least not all of it, but he wasn't going to say that in a crowded room where the walls likely had ears and he hoped that Barry was smart enough to clue in on Oliver's caution and find them a safe place. Was there a safe place?

morning briefing

Derek has learned quickly that he is not a fan of not having control. Being on a strict schedule is actually kind of nice, he has to admit, because if Buffy's right and the glitches aren't glitches at all, then he could use the structure if it means not running into the fray at every turn and sacrificing himself for a bunch of kids and a town's whole population, none of whom seem to give a shit one way or the other whether he's around or isn't. Which, really, probably isn't fair. McCall and his pack have helped Derek out on occasion, too, he's just never felt like he's been an actual part of the pack so much as a superfluous being on the periphery who sometimes proves himself to be useful.

Again...in theory; if the glitches aren't real.

But the one thing that Derek absolutely cannot stand is that he doesn't get to decide when he goes to sleep unless he happens to decide he wants to do so before the sleep aid gas gets released at 22:00. Sleeping, eating; natural things that the body needs and that Derek is more than willing to do without coercion are things that he thinks he should be able to do on his own time. Yeah, he's well rested, but probably a little too well rested, because he's well rested enough to be grouchy about it. So when he's making his way to the morning briefing, he can't help himself. He's looking for that little awkward ray of sunshine from yesterday: Felicity. He doesn't know her last name, so he doesn't know for certain that when one was sent on combat duty for her mission that it's actually her. He deflates a little, frowning to himself before lowering himself into a seat and straight up glowering at the idea. She's better than the nasty coffee he wore to save her ass from accidental treason. Now what the hell is he supposed to do to get his day off on the right foot?

citizen improvement

If the glitches are to be believed — and now that he's not alone in thinking it, some part of him is potentially starting to sway in that direction — then Derek has plenty to be angry about. If those are real memories, his family is dead, completely batshit, or has abandoned him entirely. He's been duped by too many beautiful women with his best interest well out of their minds. He's lived in a train depot after the town condemned the burned out shell of his former home where he'd been staying. And he surrounds himself with a bunch of teenagers because he never really got to be one. How's all that for fucked up? No wonder he doesn't want to keep the glitches/memories.

With all of that stuff weighing on his mind all day, after Derek grabs a bite to eat — if it can even really be considered food, that is... — he decides to blow off some steam with dodge ball. He has a feeling that the people on the opposing team are going to regret him showing up more than he will, anyway. He might not have his supernatural strength, if that's really a thing he has, but he's still a big guy and he's got a lot of negative feelings right now. Derek would love nothing more than to work those out via pegging as many unlucky assholes on the other side of the line as possible.

Izzy doesn't like this place, not at the moment. Then again, she didn't when she first stepped into the world that this place is either. From the forced....videos and paperwork, to the artificial environment, and being told that her memories are all false...are glitches...it's all felt wrong from the word go. That assessment was leaving out Izzy's complete displeasure at the fact that she was wearing clothing that she would rather burn than actively choose to wear.

Treason. That was the only reason that she hadn't actively done anything to her clothes, or her boots, despite hating them with a burning passion. She felt like a frump. She'd gotten too much sleep. She wasn't used to this place at all. Isabelle Lightwood was having a no good very bad couple of days.

It wasn't the schedule that bothered her in the least. She could remember the strict training schedule that she had kept up when she'd been learning how to fight and being educated on how to run the institute, as well as her medical education. She was the best damn forensic pathologist in New York. That felt real to her. And yet it was supposedly a glitch. Treason again.

It was probably a good thing nobody could read her thoughts; she was trying to settle in here, though, it was just easier said than done. It was the sour look on the man's face that got her attention. It was an interesting mixture of frown and glare; it reminds her of the brother that she's still not convinced is just a glitch in her programming. She remembers his frowns, and the fact that they made his smiles all that sweeter, and memorable. The guy seems much the same, or at least similar. Plus, Izzy's never been the shy type, or at least that's what she remembers about herself.

So she doesn't bother to ask as she takes a seat next to him, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear and inadvertently exposing the rune on her neck. It's easier to not think about her own disappointments and confusion when talking to someone, like with Steve when she was first released. "You do not look like you're having a good morning so far." Izzy notes, the tiniest of smiles pulling at her mouth. With Alec there would have been more teasing, of course, but she doesn't know this man like she believes she knows the brother that she isn't sure is real. Hopefully, though, he is...even if he isn't here. Though, she's sure he wouldn't like it any more than her.

Izzy's always gone forward with confidence, in whatever she does, and now is not difference...frump, displeasure, and confusion be damned.

"Not a morning person, handsome? Or just one of those mornings?" She asks, trying to get the chance to know someone other than Steve started. He'd be the firs of many. Lord knew she was going to have to make friends if she was going to make it here. Though, she had more than that on her to-do list. One thing at a time, though, right?

There are two ways to reach the underground fighting ring which is located in the basement of what appears to be a small diner in the Entertainment Subsector, also known as part of the INFRARED market. The first is to be invited, in which you'll be given a password and instructions to enter the ring through the diner's kitchen.

The second is to be let in through a shed in the back lot behind the diner. Open the doors and you'll see a stairway leading down into a dirt basement. Those looking for something interesting might notice that around approximately 1800 various citizens of different clearance levels will begin making their way to the back lot and disappearing inside this door.

If anyone were to follow, they would find themselves in a dirt basement with about 100 chairs situated around a boxing ring. Citizens are going up to men leaning against the ring and placing their bets before taking a seat. It's not exactly glamorous, but there is a palpable sense of excitement in in the air. Word is, that Free Enterprise has found themselves a fighting Special and there is nothing more that many citizens would like more than to see a Special knocked down a peg or two.

At approximately 1830 the lights will be dimmed and a short man in a yellow jumpsuit will take center ring. His voice bursts across the room, obviously helped by some kind of unseen microphone. "Hello, citizens of Alpha!" Cheers erupt from the crowd followed by whistles. "Tonight, we've got a treat in store for you. Three of Alpha's most ruthless champions pitted against one of the Computer's Specials!"

The crowd goes wild, a mixture of cheers and loud boos. The man waves them down. "We'll pit the Special against one champion every night for the next three nights or until he loses." Shouting erupts and more citizens run forward to place their bets at the ring. "Now, please welcome Alpha's champion fighter... Frank Gibb!"

Gibb makes his way up to the ring, putting on a show for the crowd as he slips off his robe and working up the cheers. "And welcome, The Computer's Special... Ronan Lynch!"

The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers and very loud, very rude boos and heckles as everyone looks to the left for Ronan's entrance.

Ronan has been in plenty of brawls in his life. Niall Lynch insisted that his sons learn how to box, how to fight and he'd been fighting with Declan most of his life. It had moved from brotherly fighting to something more when it became obvious that Ronan was Niall's favorite. Everything had only gotten worse when Niall had been killed. Ronan has been known to hit someone simply because he wanted to feel someone's teeth split his knuckles, wanted to feel the crack of someone's nose breaking against his fist. Fighting is something born and bred into Ronan, but he's never fought in a ring for an audience, not like this. It's all a little overwhelming, not that he'll admit that to anyone at all.

He's outfitted with a pair of boxing shorts and a plain robe. He's only got a glimpse of the guy that he's fighting tonight, but he's not particularly worried. He doesn't actually realize that everyone here is an Alpha and he's the only special until the announcer starts talking. At that, he realizes how easily he could be overwhelmed here, how easily someone could take him out and he worries about Adam, whom he knows is in the audience watching. In any case, it's too late to worry about that now. He's simply got to trust that the people who contacted him want him alive.

Ronan doesn't make quite the show. He simply walks to the ring, chin tilts up, shoulders back, chest out. He's got sharp smirk on his face and his eyes are narrowed, glaring. He's putting on the intimidating facade that helped him earn the reputation of the scariest thing in Henrietta. When he reaches the ring, he slips his robe off revealing the tattoo that covers his entire back. He finds Adam in the crowd, balls up his fists and walks to the center of the ring, that sharp smirk on his face becoming and even sharper grin.

No doubt about it: Ronan is going to enjoy this.

Derek's head turns slowly and he looks a little incredulously at the person with the balls to sit beside him when he's clearly in a shitty mood. His excitation softens a little bit when he notices that it's a woman and she's actually also kind of pretty. "I've had better," he says with a shrug, looking straight ahead again.

He notices the tattoo, but doesn't ask. If this place is real, it's a flaw. If this place is all bullshit, then it probably gets asked about enough as it is — like his does at the gym, which is why, according to the glitch, he stopped going and started working out on his own — and she's probably sick to death of answering questions about it. "But I've also had worse."

At the compliment, Derek huffs a small laugh in spite of himself. "Funny, I'm actually very much a morning person. Just not this morning, I guess," he says. "Or maybe I just hate this place that much," he points out, looking back over at her with his eyebrows raised.

It should be noted that Adam isn't at all happy about this turn of events. A part of him gets that Ronan loves the fight. Whatever. That's okay. Adam just isn't sure how this can be fair when they're all drugged with sleeping gas (and who knows what else) every night. He isn't sure how this can be fair when nothing here that Adam has thus far encountered seems all that fair. By Adam's way of thinking, something about this is going to be rigged and probably not in Ronan's favor.

Yes, he tried to get Ronan to back out of it by gently suggesting all of this. No, Ronan didn't take the hint. That doesn't mean Adam isn't here to watch and, he supposes, to support as well.

He doesn't cheer or boo as either opponent is brought out. Against one of the walls in the back, he stands very, very still compared to the other attendees with his arms folded over his chest and his brow furrowed. Nestled on the floor between his shoes is the first-aid kit from their room. Adam's known violence his whole life. It always makes him uncomfortable. Also, he's worried. He's worried about his boyfriend. He's worried that something bad is going to happen here. He's worried about the unknown of this entire event. He's worried for many, many reasons.

During the fight Adam is very still as he watches. Sometimes he chews on his nails. Sometimes he gnaws on his bottom lip. Mostly he's just glaring intently at the ring and the two fighting in it.

After the fight, he'll make a beeline for Ronan, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He'll get as close as possible and then wait for people to clear, for Ronan to see him, so that he can get to him to clean up whatever wounds there are.

Unfortunately for Oliver, Adam is the wallflower of every day. Also unfortunately for Oliver, Adam checks rooming lists every day and when he saw a third name in his and Ronan's room, well, his stomach turned over. Rooming with just Ronan is safe. Anyone else is still a question mark to him. Needless to say, Adam Parrish is not a people person, nor is he prone to easily trusting people.

This is why during the morning orientation, he's watching the new faces. He's trying to make out who Oliver is and what he's about. Adam is good at being invisible in a room full of people. It's an art form perfected over the years out of necessity of survival. Usually, people don't notice him unless he wants them to. He's just that kind of wallflower.

Once he's figured out who Oliver Queen is, he watches him from across the room. The man seems to be watching people as well. Adam gets that. He watches any interactions, any expressions. Any time Oliver's eyes glance his way Adam looks away or down to the floor. One time, when he looks back up, Oliver isn't where he'd left him. He sees him elbowing his way through the crowd and starts after him. When Oliver stops and abruptly turns back around, Adam very nearly runs into him.

"Sorry." He says automatically, because that's what you do when you literally run into someone. Adam is polite enough to apologize. And now he's awkwardly trying to figure out what to say next, if anything. "Crowds, right? They're... crowded." Yeah, not so smooth.

Izzy knows that the man she's currently bothering isn't her brother. He just reminds her of Alec, and she was always an expert at dealing with his moods, even if he'd argue that she wasn't. She's not all that intimidated by him, his mood, or his size. It's not that she has balls, so much as she's just used to dealing with bad moods, and surliness.

She knows that this guy, whatever his name might be, isn't Alec. It's a nice little reminder of the brother who isn't here, though. Just to see someone who (upon first look) is a little similar. Isabelle can't help that that's what she gravitates toward either, just like she can't help the amusement that causes the corners of her mouth to pull upward a little. So, this morning fell somewhere in the middle for him, not the worst and not the best.

Izzy couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been here, and what it'd take for her to settle in.

"This middle morning between best and worst." Izzy surmises before she shrugs a little bit before sitting back, her gaze forward for a long moment. Well, until he mentions hating this place, anyway. That gets the petite woman to turn her head, unabashedly looking right at him. "I can see the merit in hating it." Izzy speaks lightly, knowing that she should tread carefully, but she's never been one for fear, or letting it control her. "I can't say I'm a fan so far, even if I haven't had that long to settle in just yet." Her own eyebrows lift, almost in challenge to match his own, despite her light tone of voice. If he was trying to catch her for treason (and what the hell here wasn't treason) he'd probably already caught her, even if she wasn't spewing venom, what she'd said was likely enough.

Izzy didn't live her life in fear; she also did, and said, what she felt was right, and so far...hatred toward this place didn't seem to be in the wrong. She was quickly getting there herself with all of the rules, regulations, and just how stifling the place managed to be. She didn't know if that was his reason, but if it was she sure as hell understood.

Derek shrugs. "I suppose," he replies. He's only been here a couple of days and already he can tell that every day is going to bleed slowly into the next; they're all going to feel exactly the same and it's going to drive him slowly mad. Derek is the kind of person who needs to be doing something to feel productive and determining physical fitness of a bunch of random strangers doesn't exactly scratch that itch for him. Add in that his roommate planted a seed he can't shake and all he can think about is whether the life he remembers before this place is real or a big misunderstanding and it's easy to understand why he's in such a foul mood this morning.

"I haven't either," he replies, but he shrugs again. "I just feel like everything is meaningless in this place. Being unhappy is treasonous, but how the hell are we supposed to be happy when we're bored out of our goddamned minds all waking hours of the day?" Not to mention that they don't even get to decide when they go to sleep or what they want to eat. No wonder they get fed happy pills on a regular basis. They'd all be in jail for treason without them.

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Daycycle 105 [ August 28 - September 03]

daycycle 105

[Aug 28 - Sept 3]

Open - Oliver Queen at the Morning Briefing

Open - Oliver Queen at the Morning Briefing

Buffy Summers OPEN throughout the day

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Open | Throughout Day

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Morning Mission

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Evening Commissary lolz

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Open | Throughout the day

MORNING BRIEFING

Alpha Fight Club; Evening

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OTA and for Ronan

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