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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

Blonde. Felicity? Or Sara, maybe. He wasn't sure he wanted to contemplate the idea that it was Laurel. That would hurt too much and he wasn't convinced that they weren't all locked away somewhere in his world. The idea that there was someone else in the world who looked like Roy Harper was a damning piece of evidence, but it was just a single piece of evidence that could mean anything. Even if there were apparently two people who looked like Roy out there.

He offered his hand. "Let's make this a proper introduction. Oliver Queen." Since he'd already screwed up a little, he'd turn this into an advantage. So far, he didn't have any contacts in this place apart from Steve and that needed to change. The more people he knew, the more people he could go to for information he needed. Maybe some people needed the moral support of befriending the population, but as long as Felicity was here, all he needed was her.

As for the rest of the people...he was there to save them, not make friends.

He'd been searching for her as much as he could all day after hearing she was here. But there was work to do - and what exactly Gray Ops did he still wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that it wasn't going to be as morally ambiguous as it sounded - and he'd learned from the mistake of running up to people he thought he knew. But this was Felicity; he'd know her anywhere. From the weariness in her expression to the brightness in her eyes, he knew her. And it didn't hurt that she'd announced herself by name.

He flung the door open and then just stared at her for a moment. It wasn't really long, but it seemed like a lifetime. She was here. He still wasn't sure whether that was good or bad, at least not intellectually. His heart wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go.

He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her in, shutting the door behind them. Maybe they were being spied on, but for the first time since he'd woken up, he didn't care.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and searched her face. "I heard your name called this morning. You're all right?"

Adrenaline was fueling her system now. Adrenaline and a shot of blood-draining fear. But when Natasha reaches up from behind her, guiding her hand, pushing her arm and her gaze up simultaneously, Felicity feels the same empowerment as when she took her first shot.

When she breathes and shoots, just like Natasha said to do, the blast hits the droid right in the mouth and Felicity just screams with joy. “AHHHHHHH! I did it. Oh my god I did it.” It’s sudden and unexpected, and Felicity actually lifts her left hand up over her mouth, eyes wide in surprise.

She’s grateful, so grateful really, that Natasha was on this mission with her, and she’s about to tell her that — Felicity’s mouth was already half open — when ‘No celebrating yet, look at me,’ cuts her off.

Close combat. She wasn’t ready for this. Shooting a blaster was one thing, but the closest combat Felicity’s seen was stabbing someone with a needle. And then she promptly ran the hell away. But right now, Natasha gives her too much advice. She needs all of it, but she's already worried she can't remember it all, especially with a metal fist aiming her for her face.

And who knew whether the next droid was also going to spontaneously light on fire?

But Natasha's advice about using someone's weight against them resonates the most. Holstering her blaster, Felicity gives Natasha a firm nod before saying: “And I’m small, so I have to use my entire body, not just my arms.” Sara taught her that, but Felicity doesn’t actually know why she says it out loud right then — maybe it was because she wanted Natasha to know she was taking this seriously, or that she wanted to prove she wasn’t a total novice.

But then the redhead says the most important thing Felicity needs to hear in this upcoming fight. 'I'm not going to let anything happen to you.' Felicity believes her.

“Hey,” She isn’t calm or ready, but Felicity smiles a little as she grabs the robotic hand. “Everyone has hobbies.” It doesn’t even register as odd anymore when people around her suddenly have more expertise than they should have in certain areas of life. Starling City had made that her new normal. But there wasn't any more time to talk.

There’s a loud swooshing sound from across the room as the simulation opens a pair of large, sliding doors. Two new, unharmed droids come walking out, taking in their surroundings. Natasha and Felicity have gone through this twice now and each time it starts the same way.

The droids come out — their stiff joints pivoting and then straightening, their heads rotating clockwise then locking into place. They’re harmless at the moment, until- there it was - their eyes flicker to red. It was the on switch. Simulation a-go.

Felicity lets Natasha take the lead. She doesn’t run or charge into the droid because — well, one, that sounded like a terrible idea given her lack of skills, and two, Natasha said she’s supposed to dodge. Dodge and duck until she finds a good time to either swing the metallic arm or use her body to push the droid over.

Stiles gives Derek a quick look over his shoulder, as if double checking that decision before walking out the crack between the large double doors. No point in leaving the whole place open - the guy going after stray balls would have had a hell of a time getting them back again.

There's another exit, out of the base and back into the 'civilian' sectors of the city off towards their left, and he heads towards that. The stretch of tarmac's pretty empty at this time, either people are off on the night shift, or they're still at the makeshift court. "Define real," he starts. "If you mean something you can see, hear, or touch, then definitely not. But think of it this way, the Computer couldn't have downloaded us from nowhere, and things are too well connected to be a dream, you can always link point A to B to C." It had made sense, to think of everything that came through as stuff that had actually happened, somewhen and somewhere. There wasn't any of that disjointed scene changes or nonsensical behavior you get in dreams, not when he could make sense of it. And he dismisses the probability of a shared hallucination right off, there's too much for that.

"Days," Stiles has to stop to give Derek a disbelieving look. "Days." Because that speaks of a stubbornness, while unsurprising, that's willing to subject someone to self-torture. Why would anyone even want to do that? They don't even have sections in the video to skip back to - if you asked a question, they made you watch the whole thing from the top. Anyone who does that probably does need all the help they can get.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he takes a moment to weight his options. He's also aware that standing around in the middle of an airfield's probably attracting unnecessary attention, but he doesn't care at the moment.

"Okay. Let's see what we can find out." It wouldn't be the first time he just rolled with things.

Maybe that's half the problem, Derek thinks. He can link A to B to C, and that's what makes everything in his head so goddamn terrible. He wonders if that's why he fought them so hard to keep the memories, because the horrible nature of them is what makes Derek who he is, and even if that means he's a monster, those experiences define him. Without all of that pain; without all the loss, who is Derek Hale? Because he feels so disconnected from the person he was before the fire that he barely recognizes himself in those memories at all.

Or maybe he stayed there fighting because he was punishing himself for all the mistakes he's made along the way, leaving so many bodies in his wake and so much blood, both directly and indirectly, on his hands. The incredulity on Stiles's face tells him that maybe it was overkill, if the latter is the reason.

"What do you remember?" he asks. "About home?"

When the door opened, the bright, cheeriness in her eyes immediately transformed into a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“No. No no I-“ He was tugging her in and she followed. Felicity hadn't known if she would ever see Oliver again, much less be able to feel this hand on her arm. His grip felt strong and his hands were warm — he felt real.

When she spoke again her voice was frantic. Like Felicity couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “-No I’d asked Barry the day I woke up. I specifically asked him if there was anyone here other than him or Cisco and he- He told me there was no one. He told me that you weren’t here.“

Her eyes never left his as she talked. Even if Adam and Ronan were here, she wouldn’t have cared or even looked at them. Then she felt Oliver’s hand on her cheek — calloused, just like she remembered. This wasn’t some messed-up drug-induced dream.

Oliver was actually here.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice still shaking a little. Felicity stared at him for just another second before flinging her arms around Oliver, pushing her face into his shoulder and squeezing her eyes closed. Her torso winced at the sudden pressure — her bruises, hidden beneath her jumpsuit, protested — but Felicity doesn’t pull away, she pulls him even closer.

“I'm okay now that you're here.” That time, she isn't talking about the mission anymore.

In this moment, Felicity wasn’t as selfless as Barry or Oliver. Both them probably wouldn’t wish Alpha on their worst enemies, much less the people they loved. But right now, as she held him and smelled him and felt him — the only thing Felicity felt was happiness and relief.

He can't even do it. He can't answer 'the twenty seven inches' because those are not words he can get out of his mouth.

"You know the answer," is the phrase he settles on, before adding: "And I've been a bachelor for a few decades now." Despite his fresh new memories on Sharon Carter. Plus, Steve doesn't even know what the two of them were supposed to be. But after he woke up here, all of that seemed to stop mattering.

He recognizes the defensive stance when she takes it. He was deliberately trying not to take that stance right now. His arms are to his sides, his body communicating open not closed. But her answer makes Steve glance away, eyebrows tightened with a little more betrayal than confusion.

"Yesterday?" he repeats. He'd just started welcoming new Specials yesterday and Technical Services was already messing with him. But it wasn't something he needed to concern Natasha with, not yet.

"I imagine you were able to protect her, and teach her a thing or two?" Of course, out of all the days to miss the names of the Troubleshooters assigned to missions, today was the day he'd done it. But even if Natasha had been fighting killer droids, he wasn't really concerned. If Steve had to guess, the equivalent of killer droids were probably what teenage Natasha took down as everyday practice.

"Yeah. Over three months now." And he has a lot to tell her. Especially since he just did this with Tony two days ago.

"There's something I want to show you." Vague words for any eavesdropping ears, or feeds. "Come on."

Steve grabs his papers from the table and looks Natasha in the eye until she gives some indication that she'll come with him. Then, they're headed to the elevators.

Edited 2016-09-03 21:07 (UTC)

Caitlin's mind felt like a disjointed jumble. If she wasn't already accustomed to believing in the impossible (given that it's scientifically feasible, of course), she'd probably feel much worse. Or, maybe she'd feel better. Maybe she would just swallow the tripe they fed her wholesale like she pretended she had.

There were a few things she knew for sure. One, she would likely be alone here because that was her luck. She would never be lucky enough to have even one familiar face here with her. Two, wherever she really was, she needed to find a way out and a way back to Central City. Without Barry, she wasn't sure how much of a chance she, Cisco, and Harry had of surviving Zoom and his minions, but they were resourceful. They could try to find a way.

And three, she wasn't quite sure she should be relieved to be free of Zoom right now. She might have just gone from the fryng pan to the fire.

But that would all be contemplated later. Right now, she was signing more paperwork than she had when she got the job at STAR Labs and being handed things. She managed to bundle everything together once they started shooing her along. Someone pointed out the man that would be giving her a tour, and she pulled up short once she laid eyes on him.

Light hair, light eyes, tall, broad shoulders. He had a similar build as Jay did, similar features. But Jay wouldn't smile at her like that. No, Jay's expressions had a manic touch to them now, smirking more often than not.

With a steadying breath, she crossed the room, clutching her things to her chest. "I guess you're who I'm supposed to meet? I'm Caitlin. Caitlin Snow."

From how members of the other team are acting as they walk off, they're definitely feeling their hits. Remind him to never be on opposite teams from Buffy. Unless it's a pie eating contest - in which case, everybody wins. (As long as they enjoy pie).

This close, Stiles can make out more of Buffy's injuries, the dark eye hard to miss with the vivid colors, and fainter traces of other injuries. Not fun, not cool, had to hurt. He steps sideways - if that cuts off some of the people trying to line up for water, that's not his problem.

Behind them, another game starts up, the teams made up mostly of other red suited players, but other higher ranking people can be found among them, other people shuffling their way to the benches at the sidelines.

"I don't think the concept of insurance or compensation is really all that big here," he says, expression darkening, though he finishes sarcastically. "But on the bright side, no forms!"

"You at least got a chance to ice it, right?"

There was a reason Morgana was always talking about Steve. It wasn't the crush she wasn't even entirely aware of, or the fact that he was in fact built like a castle wall...

It was the way he showed up at her rooms door right away when she messaged him, the gentle way he looked at her and offered her his arm. Perhaps, even, it was the easy silence between them as they made their way from her orange dorm to his quarters in green, her arm looped easily around his like this was something they did every day.

It wasn't, she hadn't even had time to speak to him for a few days and by the time his door closed she was biting her lip as the last few days ran loops around her mind. There was the "mutant" and blue, and the all too familliar tingling she had felt run through her veins like a rush of fire just waiting to explode. The nightmares that had followed that were somehow even less sensible than what she used to dream in Camelot, just flashes of red and silver and a sense of violence and horror...

And then the girl on the device, with her absolute certainty that a, Morgana was lying about who she was and b, if she wasn't then they were always wrong, fake, messed up. Clones. Whatever that meant.

Morgana took a deep breath as she let go of him to lean in the arm of his sofa, lip quivering slightly even as she thought about it. She was safe here, unlike in Hydroponics or her dorm or anywhere else, really, aside from maybe in the hide out with Root but she still tried to cover it up.

'I've missed you, are all your new admirers stealing you away?' she asked, trying to joke but her tone and eyes not quite getting there.

"Wait, it's kind of a lot to go through." Stiles says with a shake of his head. What he remembers are enough pieces to put together an entire puzzle - even the pieces that don't make the most sense. "Here's not the best place, not unless we want to act like a beacon for trouble."

Not that he knows where would be a good place for this conversation either, but definitely not the hangar. With the amount of space taken up by the military buildings, he doesn't doubt the place is riddled with vigilant people and other forms of technological monitoring.

"There were a couple of public buildings I'd been meaning to check out, haven't really had the chance with stuff that's happened lately. We could head towards those?" He offers, shifting his feet. There are one or two places where people talking quietly together wouldn't get too much attention, in fact, quiet would be expected so if they keep whispering - no one would think it odd.

Derek sighs a little, because he knows that it's a lot and he doesn't necessarily mean that he wants Stiles's life story or anything, but in the other man's defense, it's not like Derek is wording himself all that well. It makes him think of the petafore/metaphor thing from last night and he huffs a little humorless laugh to himself, shaking his head. "I know it's a lot, I'm not asking for everything," he says quietly.

He looks around, frowning. Is there a good place to have this conversation? "Yeah, okay," he agrees. Derek's been meaning to do more exploring, anyway, but he hasn't really had the chance, either, so that sounds like as good a plan as any to Derek. "Lead the way," he tacks on for good measure.

As they walk, Derek's keeping his eyes peeled and he's trying to listen and scent, but neither of those senses are working the way they feel like they should, which frustrates him. So, he's admittedly glowering about it, but then...what else is new? That thought reminds him that he's going to need to find that Izzy girl another day and apologize for being kind of a dick. It wasn't her fault, after all, that he was so wrapped up in himself that he totally blew her off; it certainly wasn't anything personal, considering he'd never met her before.

"I just want to know the weird stuff," he whispers back to Stiles as they continue on. "The stuff that makes no sense, because if the glitches line up, then that can't be just a glitch, can it? The probability of two random clones having the same glitches when no one else does? My roommate has weird ones, too, like really weird, but they don't line up with mine. Not really, anyway..." Because she's what he would've called a hunter in his glitches and she probably thinks he's a vampire, which is disgusting. At least, Derek thinks it is.

"One thing could lead to another," Stiles points out; context can change everything, though in an argument about whether something is right or not, it doesn't always help. Breaking into a police station because you need to hide incriminating information, for example. There's always someone willing to say it's still B&E. Anyway, he'll be the first to admit that he sometimes can say a lot, without actually saying anything - and distractions happen.

The pace Stiles sets is a shade above leisurely, in the hopes that the implication that they're busy would prevent others from approaching them while they walk past a lighted sign pointing towards the concrete walkways that helped connect certain areas of the city. If those meant most people bypassed certain residential areas... no one was complaining, and the tunnels saw a lot of daily traffic.

"The Spark's note version of the weird stuff?" He asks, just as quiet. "You're probably more interested in the ones you're involved with."

There are an increasing number of lighted signs as they approach the public works area, most of which are concentrated in the same general area, in the spaces closet to the tunnel mouths. After all, it'll be the easiest way to establish controlled access areas, right? If you had to color code a city.

"Who's your room mate?" He's curious, but changes his mind immediately after. Plausible deniability exists after all. "No wait, don't tell me."

Stiles stops by one of the signs: some of them had given directions, others repeat the slogans that make up the basic rules of the City. Reminders; that whatever they do, they'll have to be careful about it. This sign just gives the name of the building.

It doesn't escape Derek that Stiles has picked up the pace and the reason for that isn't lost on him, either. So Derek matches it. If anyone happens to pass them by and believes them to be on their way somewhere important as opposed to just strolling along to kill time before curfew, they're less likely to be approached. Stiles is one of the smart ones, he remembers. Lydia and Stiles: book smart and street smart, respectively. He makes a mental note of that so that he doesn't let it fall to the wayside. Trust Stiles, he's good at this.

"Mostly the stuff with me in it, because I can't verify with my own glitch if I'm not in it," he points out. "Or if I wasn't at least present for it." Derek opens his mouth to answer his question about the roommate but Stiles cuts him off, changing his mind. Fair enough, he thought. It was probably better if he didn't go spouting it off, anyway. He got the feeling Buffy wouldn't like it and he really does not want to be on her bad side, just in case he's right about the fact that he's pretty sure she's a hunter and he's a werewolf and those two things do not go well together.

Derek stops when Stiles does, looking around. There's not a whole lot of activity out here, he's noticed. Everything about this place looks so weird to Derek. He remembers Brooklyn and he remembers Beacon Hills, but neither of them looked like this. There's signs everywhere, neon lights to accentuate some of them, and most of them are specifically reminders to citizens. "In here?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows in question, just to clarify that they're on the same page as to the reason why Stiles has stopped in this particular spot. He looks over his shoulder one more time to verify that they're not being followed, but he doesn't see anyone. Seems safe to proceed. He hopes he's right.

On the other hand, Adam is perfectly okay doing without. He's never had much anyway. It's just another way that he doesn't understand why Ronan feels the need to do this here and now. He doesn't necessarily feel in a position to tell his boyfriend flat-out 'no' either. He imagines that telling Ronan no is like telling a tree not to grow. It's the equivalent of needlessly beating your head against a wall. Adam tries not to so that any more than he has to.

As he'd watched Ronan fight from the back wall, he's very still and his entire body is tense. He wants to rail against the guy beating up on Ronan. But Adam's there every night with their first aide kit. He doesn't trust the first aide kits that aren't theirs. Drugs seem to be a common use around here. You just never know.

Even though Ronan is tired, bruised and cut up, Adam has a hard time feeling sympathetic toward that. All he is is angry that Ronan is letting it happen. Ronan chose this. It is what it is.

Seeing Ronan walking out of the ring in that shape, it makes his stomach twist in uncomfortable knots. He hates it. He hates the chosen bruises and cracked ribs and swollen eyes. It makes his own skin feel too tight, like he's too seen here, like he should hide. All of those feelings have nothing to do with Ronan and everything to do with Adam. For this reason, when Ronan finally looks at him, Adam can't help that his eyes glance away in the way they used to do all the time.

"Sit." He gestures to the folding chair he's pilfered.

On one hand, Adam is pleased to have made Oliver as uncomfortable or off kilter as Oliver has done to Adam. On the other hand, he worries that he might have played the only upper hand he has too soon, that he might have overplayed it and that Oliver might actually take offense when all Adam was really doing was staying informed and trying to figure out his new roommate.

Great.

"It's a... rooming list." Adam says, gesturing in the general direction of the hallways that would lead to the rest of the compound. "It lists new people. I heard someone call you Oliver." Adam shrugs. "I pay attention."

He isn't sure if that will creep Oliver out or impress him. Either way, Adam is positive he's already screwed this up. Oliver scares the shit out of him and he can't believe he and Ronan have to share a room with the guy now. Horrible luck. Adam has always had horrible luck.

There might not be many people around, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. Stiles had noticed Derek looking around - and considering the way the guy's life had gone, he's inclined to believe the fact that he'll notice something dangerous. Some things don't really change, despite the way the cloning process was suppose to make them all baseline human. Call it an instinct.

"Might as well get to know this place better," Stiles says brightly, more excited that he actually feels while he reaches for the door. It opens easily when he pulls back on the bar.

The hall ahead had high ceilings, metal shafts left exposed so that wires were run along them. Oddly enough, the place doesn't look half-finished, though he feels like it should, sarcastically, he comments: "Nice sense of decor." Mechanic-chic, would that be the word for it?

There are rows of tables spaced out along the room, in front of doorways that led into other rooms. Some of the rooms seem to attract more people than others, extra chairs piled up around those areas.

"And yeah, I get that, but there probably things we both know that aren't actually events," he says, trying to figure out where to go next.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like fun," he says giving a small shake of his head. "Unless you meant, meeting me in which case you're probably not the first to feel that way."

He smiles back at her, hopefully conveying that he's joking. "I'm one of the other Specials. I've been meaning to introduce myself, but things have been kind of crazy..." He shrugs. "Or you know, Tuesday around here."

"How are you? Are people giving you problems?"

"Yeah," Barry said, surprised that Oliver doubted him, at least until he went on to tap his mouth and ears. Barry's eyes widened in understanding and he gave him a nod. "It's safe. We have someone who has disabled monitoring in places around the complex."

He nodded towards the two dots on the wall. "He's marked the areas that are safe."

Instinct is probably the best way to describe the way Derek's acting right then, although he hasn't actually recognized it as such. To Derek, he's just being cautious. He's still battling between real and not real and it hasn't actually occurred to him that half the reason he's so vigilant right now is because those glitches are real and he's used to having to run and used to being hunted. Not that they're officially being hunted down right now, but one never really knows, after all, do they?

Derek gives a little shrug that says he's not entirely sure he feels comfortable agreeing with the verbal sentiment, even in jest, but he does grab the door with one hand just over Stiles's head, to hold it open once Stiles pulls on the bar. It's spacious as hell, he realizes, and he's not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. The space would suggest that they might use it for storage, but that it isn't quite finished. That means that they probably have some time. The downside, though, is that there's a lot of space, which would suggest there might end up being an echo if they're not careful to keep their voices especially low.

A huff of a laugh escapes him and sarcasm...yeah, Stiles is sarcastic; he remembers that, too. "Right? Very stylish." It almost reminds him of the train depot, but he doesn't say so because he isn't sure he should. Even if he buys into the fact that the glitches are real — and he's starting to — there's still the fact that...well. Not all of them necessarily will be, right? And he doesn't want to muddy the waters of Stiles explaining what he knows by throwing out memories that might truly be glitches mixed up within the reality settled in the back of his mind.

He lifts his chin to scent the room and stops halfway through his inhale, frowning. He can't small anything except that nasty tang of metal and dust. This is really, really annoying.

"Yeah, I was just thinking that, actually," he agrees. "Maybe..." he starts to suggest before moving further into the room, scratching at his stubble. "...maybe we start with something that either seems too weirdly specific not to be real or something that would be significant to both of us." Not that there are a whole lot of instances of that to choose from, he realizes, because he and Stiles weren't ever close. He can't remember why, just then, because it's buried deep within all the extra stuff he's got to sort through, but he's hoping for some clarity along the way. That's the whole point of this, after all.

"Ma'am," he says, nodding his head when she gets close enough. "Nice to meet you Caitlin. Steve Rogers. And do you-" He gestures to her equipment. "-need help carrying anything?"

They really should provide a backpack or something to go along with the orientation. Steve makes a mental note to ask someone in Technical Services about it later.

"You must also have a lot of questions. I certainly did when I came out of that room. I'm here to answer the ones I can, and to show you around the Complex, if you'd like."

Steve gestures towards the large double doors behind him.

Not hunted, but definitely watched. What another person, or the Computer itself made of what it saw is the question. And some things are easy to put together, no matter what vague inklings there are to draw from.

Turning on his heels, Stiles walks backwards for a few steps so that he can face Derek. There's no danger of him walking into a support beam, nor another person with the amount of space present. "It's hard to tell what they're going to do with this place, but they're not letting the space go to waste in the meantime."

He'd peeked into one of the side rooms, and all he could see where empty display cases. They were lit, which doesn't make any sense to him, and he dismisses the place as somewhere to go - there isn't any way to convince another person that they're there purely out of interest. Maybe they'll have better luck further along, he thinks, turning around.

Stiles takes a moment to think about that, just why is it the traumatic moments that he remembers the clearest? Something about those thoughts and memories stick, though they don't have the chance to become nightmares. Sleeping gas. actually good for something.

At first, he'd thought about pointing out the pattern of power tools and traumatic experiences, though the syringe probably doesn't fit, which then gives him an idea, one that's much simpler: "This might be weird, but do have a tattoo?" He doesn't know if that would have carried over.

She's very human right now, but she still knows how and where to hit with a dodgeball. She might have been particularly enthusiastic nailing some of the higher levels and the alphas. Buffy will gladly accept Stiles on her team. She likes him.

Definitely hurt, but more as an after the fact thing. In the moment, after the black eye, she'd been pumped on adrenaline and sheer force of will. She appreciates that he's concerned about her. it's nice to have friends here.

She laughs a little at that. "Filing all those forms are killer. You're right. It's a fair trade off." Honestly, yesterday had tapped into a side of herself that she's not entirely comfortable with. Even now, there's a part of her that enjoys the violence and she has a few 'glitches' that tell her that was an issue she wasn't comfortable with even when she had super powers.

"Yup. It was pretty much the first thing I did." She tilts her head at Stiles. "How did yesterday go for you? Were you okay?"

Okay, it's cheesy, but it makes her laugh anyway, which hurts a little, but is worth it.

She got the joke part. "Yeah, I noticed the crazy. I also noticed that it seems to be never ending. At least we're not bored?" She's not entirely sure that makes up for all of the crazy, but they've got to look on the bright side here.

She shakes her head at his question. "I mean, not really. I got these during the whole thing yesterday. I'm on very special forces. We were elected to go help out." She glances around a little. "I think I'm getting used to things here. As used to them as you can get. It's all... a lot."

It was Felicity and Ronan actually did get her name, but he doesn't trust Oliver enough to share that, to let him know that he cared enough to remember her name. He knows that idea makes clones more plausible. He's had that thought as well, and he refuses to think of himself as a clone, to think that any world he might 'remember' is simply a glitch. He knows there are others that feel that way as well.

Ronan gives Oliver's hand a look before shaking it. "Ronan Lynch," he responds. He's still wary, but that goes without saying in this world. He thinks it's smart to be wary. However, he also sees Oliver's point of view. Contacts and allies are necessary in this place. He might not call any of these people friend (he calls so few people friend here) but Oliver, at least, had backed off the whole Roy thing. That's a point in his favor.

"You just wake up here? Glitching like fuck?"

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Page 3 of 10

Daycycle 105 [ August 28 - September 03]

daycycle 105

[Aug 28 - Sept 3]

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Evening | For Steve

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