Daycycle 107 [ September 11 - September 17 ]

[computerized]

daycycle 107

[Sept 11 - Sept 17]

Early Morning [0800 - 0900] — All Troubleshooters Report for Duty

Morgana LeFey and Isabelle Lightwood, have been selected for today’s mission. Details are below:

‘Your old-issue PDCs are being replaced with the new model, yet again. Here are two protypes that we need tested. The range of tracking should be increased by 25% from the last model and the lie detector should be more sensitive to partial truths. Test them and write a thorough written report and turn it into R&D by the end of the day.’

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 1900 in Alpha Complex Art Gallery and will be hosted by the Alpha Photography Society. Tonight we'll feature a gallery of our member's best works at the museum. (The current trend in Alpha art is a binary black & white approach to art. Enjoy!)

Alternatively, word of the final Alpha Boxing Championship run by Free Enterprise is spreading fast. Alpha Special, Ronan Lynch has fought and won against two of Alpha's most formidable boxing champions to date. Tonight he goes head to head with Julio Casey who beat his last opponent so badly that he had to be replaced with a new clone. The final fight will take place in an unused battle bot arena in the R&D sector this evening at 2000. Bets are being taken by Free Enterprise and officials have been paid off to ensure that the fight won't be interrupted by IntSec.

---

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.

Comments

Open | Throughout the day

[sanguinescry]

morning briefing

Before heading to the Commissary, Lydia leaves a message encrypted to all the Specials in search of a focus group for her product. She's got every intention of making sure that whatever it is that she sends to QA is already in its best possible form. There isn't any room for error and she's hoping that she'll get a decent amount of responses. In the mean time, she goes to the morning briefing, deciding to forgo the coffee and just make her way to the little nook she'd shown Felicity on her first day, where Lydia likes to sort of hide herself in plain sight.

Leaning against the post, she's looking down at her PDC. She's going to need to ask Root tonight if she can program Stiles into Gucci's threat proximity warning system, so that he can get alerts to his PDC like she would if something dangerous ever was to come his way. It had been bittersweet seeing him yesterday morning. Of course Lydia misses her friends and it's good to see Stiles again — in fact, he's actually lucky they weren't in the same color jumpsuits at the time, otherwise she would've been clinging to him for dear life, because she's already afraid that what happened with Allison is going to happen with him and she'll be alone again. — but then again...he's here in this nightmare with her and that's no good, either. She makes a mental note to show him how to get to Specials HQ as soon as she sees him again. If not within a couple of days, then she'll reach out to him privately on the network just to make sure. Or hell, she could always head to the RED sleeping quarters and just start knocking on doors until she finds him. It's not like anyone can kick her out for her clearance level.

Lydia's sort of lost in her thoughts, but her PDC is in her hands and she's at least pretending to be alert, looking ahead, as if she's waiting for the briefing when, really, her mind is anywhere but there.

citizen improvement

During the first couple of hours of Citizen Improvement, rather than being at Citizen Improvement, Lydia's parked herself in the Commissary as promised, her backpack under the table she's sitting at and tucked between her feet. Gucci is sat beside her on the floor, metal tail wagging at anyone who happens to walk by. She's here to give out the test samples to her focus group, but also, it isn't the worst thing in the world if a few new people happen to see her giving out said samples and decide they want in. She's brought plenty to go around, after all.

The more positive attention she gets for them, the bigger the target on her back with A.S.S., sure, but with more positive attention also eventually comes adoration and appreciation. If she has the support of those who've already tested her makeup before she sold it to Free Enterprise and know her face — even though they're RED and INFRARED Alphas — and that momentum only continues to grow with her soaps and perfumes — which she will not be selling — or the hair products she intends to make in the future, well. Then maybe A.S.S. will have a harder time being able to knock her off without people being up in arms about it. Lydia imagines that Matt, Steve, and Barry will be concerned if she rises in popularity because of the target. She's planning to seek solace in the support she'll be receiving from the Alphas that are too busy loving her products to give a shit that she's a Special.

evening

After the Commissary, Lydia heads down to Specials HQ with Gucci because if she's not in her own room or Matt's after her troubleshooting duty, more often than not, one can find her in HQ. It's like a little safe haven; she likes it there. It's quiet. It's safe.

There are blocks of memory foam that she's been stacking on the lab table on the far end as it sets. Tonight, she might as well start cutting the beauty blenders out of the blocks and be productive. It wouldn't suck if she had help, but Lydia doesn't like asking for help, so she only ever does if she knows that she needs to. Like the focus group. Like the extra hands with production. This? This she can do on her own, if she has to.

[preemptiveforgiveness]

It would make sense for Matt to skip out on Citizen Improvement, but he knows that Lydia is going in order to hand out some of her samples. He's worried about her and he's going for the purpose of watching out for her. He isn't at all certain that these products won't make her a target. He won't hover around her, but anywhere in the room, he'll know where she's at.

Later, he'll go with her down to Specials HQ to help with her with the beauty blenders or whatever she needs help with.

[sanguinescry]

It should probably be mildly infuriating the way that her boyfriend and friends treat her like they're afraid of something bad happening to her at every turn. In fairness, it's happened, so they're at least justified in it. But instead of being annoyed, Lydia largely finds it endearing. She likes having Matt as company while she's handing out samples to people and she gives him a sample of his own once they get down to HQ, leaning in to give him a kiss, finally, and whispering in his ear.

"I could help you test it out, you know..." she offers coyly. If there's a camera in the bathroom at Matt's clearance level, too, then that's just creepy. She's willing to bet that there isn't. "Just saying," she adds loftily before pulling back slightly and taking his arm to lead him toward the work bench where she's got the blocks set up to get started cutting down her beauty blenders.

Lydia hands one that she's already cut out as a model for herself. "This is what they feel like. That's roughly the size and shape I'm looking for. Obviously, since all we have are like razor blades, basically, to cut them, they're not going to be perfect, but close is better."

[preemptiveforgiveness]

Honestly, at this point, she's probably protecting him more than he is her. He's still dealing with too much stimuli from the vision implants and this will be the first time he's going out in a crowd. Really, she's supporting him. He sticks by her side for the most part, eyes squeezed shut tight for at least half the thing. He is probably not getting points for being here. HQ is such a relief because it's quiet and they're alone (for now).

That tidbit gets a grin out of him. As far as he knows, there's no camera in the bathroom, but without his hearing, he can't know for sure. "I'd be foolish not to take you up on that. After all, you have to make sure I'm using it properly," he tells her, happy to let her lead him to the work bench. It means he can focus on one thing or another rather than deal with seeing everything. Besides, it's familiar and comfortable. He's still in sore need of that.

He runs his hands over the piece of foam, using his hands to 'see' them as much as the vision implants that he's still getting used to. He nods a little at her instruction. "Okay. I'll do what I can."

[duelo]

morning briefing

Every morning, Derek's hit with that same sense of dread: what kind of bullshit is he going to have to deal with today? What kind of crazy is going to break out in the Complex in this particular twenty-four hour period of time? It seems like it never fails, so he's learned to accept it as part of this place. Much like supernaturals are a part of Beacon Hills, ridiculous bullshit is a part of Alpha Complex. He's going to have to learn to deal with it, but he thinks it'd be a hell of a lot easier if he just had his werewolf abilities. Of course he doesn't, because that would be too easy. And here, he doesn't even have any guns to protect himself. At least when he'd lost his abilities back home courtesy of Kate Argent, he had Braeden to show him how to use weapons and loan him a gun to keep himself safe in the mean time. Here? Not so much.

Last night, he'd gone to the Commissary and bought himself and Buffy gas masks. He's kind of hoping that they can start their journey of knowledge in this place, putting together the pieces of the puzzle that they've been discussing, but haven't really had much of a chance to work on. It's not like he cares about the credits. So it cost him a fifth of his salary. Worth it to have someone to stay up and figure this place out with. It's better than doing it alone and he'd almost gotten one for Stiles, too, except that he remembered at the last minute that Stiles had been here longer and it was entirely possible that he already had one. He made a mental note to ask next time he sees Stilinski and he has every intention of doing just that.

For now, he's just settling at one of the tables filled with RED level Alphas and he's going to try to choke down some of this Soylent bullshit because with his metabolism as fast as it is, Derek tends to get hungrier faster than most and when he runs out of food in his system, he shuts down a lot faster, too. It's something that doesn't ail him right now, but has become habit since he's dealt with it his whole life up until recently.

evening/alpha boxing championship

While a mediocre art show sounds like a real blast, Derek's opted to check out this fight he keeps hearing whispers about. The guys at troubleshooter duty were talking about it all day and Derek can't help his curiosity. Why humans feel inclined to fight for fun is beyond him, but maybe it won't suck to watch someone else lose a fight for a change. Usually Derek's the one fighting and losing. Badly, at that.

So after he eats, he heads to the R&D sector where his fellow troubleshooters had directed him earlier in the day. He's more than a little surprised to see a familiar face in the ring and Derek stands, ignoring the fact that he's drawing attention to himself, in an attempt to get a better look. "...Jackson?" he wonders aloud, the sound of his voice nearly lost in the midst of the crowd. If someone was sitting close enough to him and paying even a little bit of attention, they'd hear it, but other than that, he doubts anyone is actually paying attention. Well, other than the asshole behind him shouting at him to sit down. Reflexively, he looks back to glare, but the menacing glow of his eyes and fangs in his mouth don't come like they usually do. Finally, he turns around and sits back down.

There's no way that's Jackson, is there? Why would Jackson Whittemore ever choose to go into a fight like this? He'd probably be terrified that someone might bruise his perfect, stupid face. And, beyond that, he hasn't seen or heard Jackson's name at all in any of the buzz he's caught surrounding this. "...who are you...?" he thinks aloud, narrowing his eyes in thought. What the hell?

[fictor]

This is Ronan's third fight in as many nights. He's already got bruises from the previous fights, a couple of cuts that have been tended to. HIs head is freshly shaved and the tattoo that covers his back is fully visible. He moves like a boxer in the ring and while he beats his opponent fairly handily, he doesn't get out of it without some good injuries. One eye is swollen almost completely shut and the cut above his eyebrow has split open again. He walks down the aisle toward the back room, moving much more slowly than he had when he'd been going to the ring.

[duelo]

Once Derek gets a good look at his back, he's convinced it isn't Jackson. Not because he thinks Jackson would never get a tattoo like that — although he doesn't — but because there's no way in hell a pussy like Jackson Whittemore would be able to sit through a tattoo like that only to have to turn around and have his whole back blowtorched until the top layer of skin dies off entirely to reveal the ink again after it immediately heals over, because werewolf. There's just no way. McCall screamed like a bitch, Jackson wouldn't have stood a chance.

Not to mention the fact that he actually beats the other guy, which is another think Derek thinks Jackson wouldn't have been able to do. Not in a fight like that. Not without his supernatural strength, claws and fangs, anyway.

So when the guy leaves the ring and heads toward the back, Derek gets out of his seat and follows the guy a little ways until he catches up. He keeps a little bit of distance between them because his own reflexes aren't quite as quick without his werewolf abilities, should the guy fear him to be a threat and whip around throwing more punches. "Hey!" he calls out from a few yards back. "Hey, you."

[fictor]

It will be a relief for Ronan not to be called a name that isn't his. Thus far, he's gotten Jackson once (from Lydia) and Roy twice. No one has been terribly specific about what the differences were and Felicity seems to think he's in hiding for something or the other. Ronan is actually glad he isn't a werewolf, though it would make dealing with these injuries a lot quicker.

Nah, Ronan has been a boxer since he was old enough to throw a punch. His father had made sure of that and God had made sure that he didn't have it in him not to get back up angrier than before.

Ronan hears the guy behind him, but doesn't turn until Derek calls him. He turns, his entire body ready for an Alpha to jumps him, but he doesn't turn around punching. He's got a little more control than that and he's exhausted from three straight nights of this. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice more tired than angry for once.

Evening | Open

[im_ironman]

Not having a lab of his own where he could hole himself up and work on something is starting to put him on edge. Even in Afghanistan, he was able to distract himself with designing and building the suit, but here it's different. It's crazy to think that he technically had a little bit more 'creative liberties' in a cave, being held captive by terrorists, but here he knows he has to be very careful. The Computer is essentially watching everything, and even if it wasn't, he had already been taken and used as a little science experiment with that chip in his brain.

Rather than making him want to behave and comply, though, Tony's brain is working overtime. He may not have pieces of paper with designs and blueprints, but in his brain he is already working on new weapons. Things that they could use to defend themselves, things that he could use to avoid being taken again. His skin still feels like it's crawling with just the thought that someone put a chip in his brain and controlled him for who-knows-what, and he hates it. He absolutely hates feeling powerless in any way, so he wants to change that. He doesn't know how far he will get, or even if it will work, but he does know that he can't just not do anything. He has to at least try.

Not wanting to just stay in his room, after work Tony makes his way to the Commissary to get a drink before he begins his walk out to walk around the SubSectors. Partly to think and brainstorm, but also because he's trying to just get to know the whole place a little better. In a way, he wants to check for weaknesses and just seeing what he can find. He had heard about the art show, and it's still something that he's considering checking out just for the hell of it and to give himself something to do while he thinks, but for now he'll start with a drink first even if it's not the scotch that he is desperately craving.


[ooc: Open for a scene in the Commissary or anywhere in the SubSectors, really. He'll be roaming around wherever he can.]

SubSectors

[cassandran]

Stiles had been making it a habit to show up at the different evening events, because it wouldn't surprise him if there was some sort of quota in place that no one had been told about. But the events of the day hadn't interested him: art had never been his thing, unless it was interactive in ways there weren't just visual, and the less said about boxing rings, the better. From the rumors, it's not the kind of boxing he would appreciate.

Initially, he considered showing up at the art gallery anyway, making his way there after dinner in the commissary, but he'd changed his mind after seeing some of the pieces on display, taking a side street into a different area of the sector, where the buildings have an oddly church-like vibe. Church-like, if flat sheet metal and bright neon lights fit into the mental image a church would normally conjure.

Stiles walks into the closest building with it's doors open, and is immediately greeted by another citizen, wearing a red jumpsuit who kindly informs him that the exit is through the doors at the other end. Several other people are in the room, most of them stare down at panels set into the wall.

The building has an origami ceiling covered in fans and hanging pipes. As the fans blow across them, different sounds can be heard. He notices that the sounds change whenever someone touches the panels in front of them, creating an eerie harmony. He wonders if anyone else finds it slightly uncomfortable; as the pitch rises, he swears his hair is standing on end.

He's hurrying towards the exit when he notices Tony, they room together, but that's about the extent of what he knows about him. The dude looks like he's pretty preoccupied, but in here? Stiles heads towards him, and when he's close enough to be heard, asks: "Are you actually listening to this?" He gestures vaguely at the pipes above them.

The sounds are changing again.

[im_ironman]

Tony's attention is everywhere and nowhere all at once as he walks through the gallery. After so many years of sitting through board meetings for is company, he has learned how to look as if he's paying attention to what's in front of him when in fact his mind is somewhere else altogether, and right now that's exactly what is happening. After walking in and surveying his surroundings, he kept strolling through the building as if he was paying his full attention to the building itself but he's just really thinking of other things. He's thinking of blueprints, and designs, and things that he will start working on when he either gathers more scraps to work with or when he manages to convince the Computer that he could improve their weapons.

The problem is that, with that offer, it almost feels as if he's falling back into a hole that he had already crawled out of. The Computer isn't the government, but at the same time he would be building and designing weapons that could ultimately hurt people that didn't deserve it if they landed in the wrong hands. And, with everything that has been happening the last few years... Well, he already has enough blood on his hands and, even if technically he would be doing this to get into the Computer's good graces and probe around more, he just doesn't want to get anyone hurt. Again.

It's because of his thoughts that he's really able to block out the sounds the panels are emitting so, when Stiles walks up to him and talks, for a second Tony has no idea what he's talking about.

"Like, actively paying attention? No." He glances up at the pipes and, now that he listens to the melody, he just gives a slow nod as if almost saying 'well, that's just weird.' "Man," he mutters under his breath as he turns back to Stiles, "this place is so weird."

Moring/Afternoon - Open

[ladenga]

Elsa did her best to fit in with everyone, keeping herself from bumping into other people. This was nothing like Arendelle. Her eyes scanned the crowds: no familiar redhead in sight. Internally, she breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't see any sign of her sister. She noted that all of the citizens seemingly followed a ruler that no one could see. Things were far more modern than home. But, for some reason, everything just seemed a little bit colder.

The blonde made her way to the Technical Services sector. How strange was it that she had a position in medical services. She could help people. She spent the time taking in and soaking up the information that they gave her and did whatever was needed to do.

But then, there were the quiet moments when she would look at her hands, drawing a deep shuddering breath. When she turned the palms up and did not see a fine layer of frost, she let out a deep breath. Quiet. No frost.

When given the time to be on her own, Elsa took to wandering through the sectors that she was allowed in, staring at her hands and quickly tucking them aside or behind her when she caught someone looking over at her. Everyone else seemed to fit in here. And she was...normal. Even through the beautiful architecture, she missed the smell of tulips in the air and the fresh mountain breeze that came down. But this...this was her home.

For now.

[satnalahcsauoyekil]

For Zatanna, this place was fast becoming what felt like a waking nightmare. Her team was gone. Her home was gone. Most importantly, her magic was gone.

The woman who had shown her around the previous day had been kind, but that didn't change the fact that Zatanna now sort of subconsciously associated Caitlin Snow with Zatanna's own presence in this place. Logically, she knew that Caitlin hadn't brought her here, but subconsciously, she couldn't separate it. She couldn't separate anyone here from it.

So, the second she'd been released from troubleshooting duty, Zee went exploring. She explored the area, the technology she could from a safe distance; she was trying to get a feel for this place and her own limitations, because if these people thought she was just going to sit here, keep her mouth shut, and behave herself, they had another thing coming. As soon as she got her magic back, they were going to be so totally whelmed by the backlash they met from her, it wasn't even funny.

Zatanna slipped into a side corridor and looked straight at one of the cameras. Maybe if she just practiced hard enough, her magic world come back and it wasn't really gone so much as just out of reach.

"Emoc dna teg em, dneirF retupmoC!" she spat out at the camera, ordering the Computer to come get her. With magic, it would work and it wouldn't matter that she hadn't disclosed her actual location. Zee was willing to take that chance, because if she succeeded then she could always use the magic to call off the guards and make them forget, too.

[ladenga]

The strange language caught Elsa's attention. She peered around the corner to see a woman stare down one of the cameras. Did she utter those words? They weren't in any language that she'd ever heard before.

"What language is that?" she asked as she stepped around the corner fully and revealed herself. Home, Elsa would've been answered quickly: a perk to being Queen. Yet here, she had to remind herself, that there were other rulers that were at play.

Open | Evening

[makeslouder]

Blue has never been the kind of girl to go to fancy art galleries or take part in any real school athletic spirit. Of course, a part of that is the lack of fancy art galleries in Henrietta and Blue's overall skepticism with jocks, school spirit, and the expected life of the teenage girl. Add in the fact that the teams at Mountain View aren't exactly anything all that great and Blue would still (generally) rather die than cheer for any Aglionby team and she has absolutely no reason to ever step foot in a stadium of any type.

Not that a battle bot arena is a stadium by any stretch of the imagination but come 2000 hour, Blue's sure to be there to cheer Ronan on.

Prior to that, she spends her time at the Art Gallery. It's something different to do here and something Blue can almost start to appreciate. She misses her trees. She misses the night sky. The photos remind her that there is still at least some kind of creativity here - something more than the way she's turned her jumpsuit into a romper with frayed edges. It also gives her a sense of hope that she might be able to find some paints. If she can't have real trees, at least she can start to paint one on the wall by her bed.

Technical Services Section: Orientation for Clint

[withstyle]

Lydia was right.

Izzy couldn't help the thought as she made her way back toward Technical Services, for the second time, in her capacity as Welcome Wagoner. Lydia had grown accustomed to a relatively small number of specials, but the rate of adding new people definitely seemed to be increasing. The number that had come in since Izzy had walked out of the cloning services had definitely shot upward quickly. After all, Steve had asked her to join the little team that he'd built up so that the responsibility wasn't only on him now.

Apparently, the Computer wanted more people. Iz couldn't help but ask herself why, along with numerous other questions. Why was definitely at the center, the others working outward. There had to be a reason, though. Everything that happened in Alpha Complex, and every rule in place, seemed to be for a reason from what the petite woman had gathered thus far.

It was just a matter of getting to the bottom of it during the time that a person was stuck here.

Now, though, wasn't the time to solve this riddle, unfortunately. It was time to do the duty that she'd agreed to take on. Izzy didn't regret the decision to help Steve out, though, even if she still felt bad for the general state of Technical Services when she'd come to welcome Elsa. Luckily, things weren't in the same disarray this time around. So, it didn't take Izzy any time at all...or much worry to get to her destination. Izzy found the same spot that she had the previous day (or thereabouts) and planted her feet to wait for the new arrival.

It didn't take that long, not on her end anyway, before she noticed the man with the GREEN bureaucrat that was seeing to his exit routine before releasing him into the world of Alpha Complex. She didn't know any other GREEN levels other than Steve, and he was the only one she'd met that seemed to actually understand how to be a person. And the reminder of that caused the natural, Izzy smile to pull at the young woman's face. It lacked a little luster without her normal red lip, but she lifted her hand to wave anyway, just so that the new arrival knew that she was there for him once he'd signed on the dotted line and had his pile of new belongings foisted upon him.

[pretendtoneedme]

It might not've taken that long for Izzy to see Clint emerging, but on his end this process had taken forever. Whatever all this was. Clint still wasn't sure he hadn't been drugged and kidnapped somehow - well, he'd definitely been drugged, which he didn't like. He'd been taken (reconstituted? whatever) somewhere he didn't know, which he didn't like. And he'd been told in no uncertain terms that it was now his job to serve some insane robotic overlord without asking questions doing remedial shit to keep a population under what was essentially mind control. Which he really didn't like.

Basically, Clint Barton was a prime candidate for being put through the extra-rigorous indoctrination process.

He spent the first playthrough of that godforsaken movie trying to break out of the room, but it was too well-constructed and he didn't have any tools for the job. Second playthrough he tried to dismantle the vidscreen (though he didn't go so far as to smash it), with the same problem. Third he actually paid attention, cataloguing everything it told him not for indoctrination purposes, but because knowing more always gave you more opportunities, the fourth was for fact-checking, the fifth for cover, and the sixth for convincing them he was "convinced" and that they wouldn't get any trouble out of him now. His memories were a little fuzzy even after the drug had worn off, but that sense of self he still had told him he'd only played by the rules when he chose to - he wasn't going to just give his loyalty because someone or something commanded it.

But he'd seen what happened to some people in the past who'd gone overboard with flouting regulations, and this place seemed even worse. Maybe he had just refused to cooperate with government regulation, but right now he was trapped inside the machine itself, with no obvious way out. Best to bide his time and figure out how to crack it open from the inside, like a chick hatching from an egg. Or something like that at least.

So when he stepped through the door, pile of stuff in arm, he mostly looked worn down and neutral, maybe a little annoyed, but overall pulled together. He spotted the hand waving at him, a young woman - too young to be stuck in this, really - trying to get what he presumed was his attention, and he glanced back at the shamrock drone next to him that was already turning to go back through the door, delivery made. He shrugged - no big deal to him - and started up the hall to someone who actually looked alive. "So, you the committee?"

[withstyle]

Izzy could tell pretty immediately that this tour was going to go incredibly different form the one that she'd given Elsa. Honestly, this was probably going to go different from her own to. She wasn't sure what exactly she made of that, but the....shadowhunter, yes, she was a shadowhunter even if not here...anyway, she was up for the challenge. Isabelle Lightwood never turned down a challenge, especially not when someone like Steve had put their trust in her.

"Sure am, but you can call me Izzy. I answer to that too." Izzy joked, doing what she could to bring some personality into the mix as she offered him her hand to shake...if he wanted to, anyway. She could remember just how much she'd needed a friendly face and someone that didn't remind her of a robot. Part of her wasn't actually sure that the GREEN levels that weren't Steve weren't robots...or maybe androids was the correct term?

"I'm here to give you the tour, answer whatever questions you have that I know the answers to, and generally help you get a feel for this place." Izzy elaborated on why she was here with confidence...just like she put confidence into everything she did, whether she actually felt it or not. That was what her duties boiled down to, anyway. Steve had put them differently, of course. And part of her duty was to make sure he understood what was expected of him tomorrow, and to fill him in on the down-low too.

She couldn't tell him that particular bit out in the open, though.

"So, you up for it?"

Morning - Closed to Peggy Carter

[missromanova]

Natasha knows how to recognize when she’s being occupied for the sake of being occupied, and that’s what’s happening now. Her assignment to gather intel on Free Enterprise seems to be one that would be deemed impossible for a newcomer, she’s realized, and her superiors gave it to her just to keep the new girl out of their hair. That’s just fine, she’s recognized before that she’s underestimated in the Complex and that’s her biggest advantage, one that she plans on exploiting to gain some sort of traction in this place until she finds herself in a position where she can really help people.

She makes her way to Weapons Distribution to get the barrel for her blaster, showing up a little early because she knows she’s going to have to fill out all of the ridiculous forms required to properly arm herself, but once she enters the room Natasha’s footsteps stall to an abrupt halt when she sees the woman standing behind the desk. That certainly isn’t the person who was there yesterday, or the day before… no. Natasha recognizes her immediately, from pictures, from photo’s hanging in what was once SH.I.E.L.D headquarters. From legends.

That’s Peggy Carter.

Steve had mentioned that she arrived. He had also mentioned, much to Natasha’s concern and heartbreak on his part, that she didn’t recognize him, and Natasha forces herself to move again before she can come off as suspicious standing in the doorway and staring. She reaches for her blaster and places it on the desk as she always does, but this time Natasha keeps her eyes down submissively, deciding it easier to take on a more passive role than throw up any more red flags than she already has. “Citizen Romanoff, Threat Assessment, cycle 1-0-7.” She stays silent as she receives the forms, filling them out mechanically and returning them when she finishes. She takes the barrel, puts it on her blaster, slips it into the holster and she turns to leave. The last thing Natasha needs right now is to start a scene and get herself labeled for treason.

Romanoff doesn’t believe in idols. She doesn’t even believe in heroes, honestly, despite how amusing Colson’s interest in Captain America was. Idolizing people is only setting them up for failure, but if Natasha ever had an idol, someone who she found impressive enough to call them such, it would be Peggy Carter. A woman who, despite the times that she grew up in, managed to build the most sophisticated intelligence agency the world had ever seen all while fighting rampant sexism and malicious intent from uncountable sources. And then there’s Steve, one of the only two people on the planet that Natasha can truly call her ‘friend’ without a moment of hesitation. Knowing that Steve must be experiencing the pain that he’s experiencing while seeing Peggy there, knowing that he’s keeping all of that to himself despite how much he insists he’s ‘fine’… it eats at Natasha. He’s a good man. A good friend. He doesn’t deserve this, and neither does Peggy.

Natasha’s steps halt once more before she leaves the room, her back to the desk, and her eyes close as she releases a long, drawn out sigh. Sometimes being a ‘Good Person’ really sucks. Nobody warned her about that. Her gaze roams around the room for a moment to take in her situation; one camera, pointed directly at the desk and the locked armory behind it. She’s going to have to lure Peggy away from that if she wants to do the right thing, no matter how much she shouldn’t risk her neck and do the right thing. Maybe this will be easy, and Peggy will just need a gentle reminder before she accepts all of her glitches as memories and lets the rest of them come flooding black without issue. Maybe Natasha will wake up tomorrow in a violet jumpsuit with two beautiful men in her bed. A girl can dream, and both situations are roughly equal when it comes to realism.

Natasha turns suddenly on the spot, keeping herself out of the camera’s eye, and she gives Peggy a sweet smile paired with a curious tone. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you Peggy Carter? The Peggy Carter, of the SSR?”

[onthedot]

This place ran with a mechanical efficiency that failed to explain such a lacking organizational system of weapons checked, to be checked, and distributed and she had spent much of the morning trying to understand what the last person in her position had been thinking, or not thinking. Though perhaps thinking too much was frowned upon and there was a lack of foresight when given the task of making sure one's weapon works. Or isn't functioning in an irregular fashion. Some thought had to be exhibited.

The morning had been passing so seamlessly the use of her very name caught her off-guard.

"I'm sorry?"

Closed to Natasha

[greenhood]

Yesterday had been so crazy, he'd only had enough attention to focus on the mission and on Felicity, and really, in his mind, paying attention to Felicity was part of the mission. But today was a new day and, by late afternoon, nothing eventful had really happened. He'd heard about a boxing match and the name, Ronan, had caught his attention, but he had something else to occupy him in the meantime. He had to track down one Natasha Romanoff. He first stop was the Commissary to check and see whether or not she'd stopped in for an early dinner. Nothing.

His second stop was luckily where he found her, because he would have had no idea where to find her other than knocking on individual doors and seeing if she lived there or not and that wasn't exactly his style. But he should have expected someone who'd managed to protect Felicity would find comfort in the same place he did: the gym.

She was giving the punching bag a workout and he watched her for a minute, appraising her style. He was impressed by what he saw and maybe that was what prompted him to ask his next question instead of coming right out with his thank you.

"Want an actual opponent to spar against?"

He could use a workout for the evening.

[missromanova]

Natasha's decided that she thoroughly hates this place. She hates having to see her friends put into difficult positions, she hates being put in a regimen so strict and yet so deceivingly open that it feels like she's given more freedom than she actually is... Natasha hates all of it. It's like the Red Room all over again, minus the direct orders to kill innocent people, and she's not discounting that as a possibility just yet. She's only been here for a couple of days, after all.

Finding the gym is the best part of her day so far, because at least now she can hit something and not be dragged into conditioning for it. First she tries the treadmill and after almost an hour she decides that it's not doing the trick, so she moves to the punching bag, the worn boxing gloves provided lying on the floor untouched. She has to work out her frustration in some way, and going to Steve or Tony isn't an option. She knows them - Steve would worry about her too much and she and Tony don't have that kind of relationship. He wouldn't know what to say. Neither would she.

So, hitting something. That's the next best option.

She picks up on the sound of someone else entering the gym and she stores it away without pulling her attention from the task at hand, making a simple mental note that she's no longer alone, but it's when an unfamiliar voice speaks to her that Natasha finally looks up, one hand moving out to catch the bag so it doesn't swing back and knock into her.

Strange. He's unfamiliar, and men don't usually approach women to ask them if they want to 'spar'. Her first impression is that he's going to try to hit on her, and he's more than welcome to do just that as long as he's in a position where she can give him a black eye and play it off as a mistake. She eyes him up in silence, hair tied up out of her face and lips parted in labored breathing to catch her breath, but after a few lingering seconds pass she nods her head in his direction as an acceptance and walks to a more open part of the gym where they can move freely.

He's obviously approaching her for some reason, she just doesn't know what, and Natasha finds that the less she gives the more others are willing to speak. So instead she simply falls into stance, hands up before her face in preparation for a block or attack, and when she's ready she gestures to him with two fingers.

'Come at me.'

Closed to Caitlin Snow

[runsonwater]

It's been one of the slower days in the Forensic office and Barry is all too ready to head out when his shift is over. He's been trying to make a habit of taking different routes and checking and rechecking the points where Dick has set up places free of Computer eyes and ears. He still misses his speed, but he's slowly coming to terms with what it's like to be without it. A job that should just take a few minutes, takes half an hour and when he's finally heading back towards the Wagon Wheel he can hear his stomach growling faintly.

He glances up as he's walking down a side alley of Technical Services and catches sight of a familiar face up ahead near the street. Barry freezes, a look of utter surprise on his face before he forces his feet to move forward. "Caitlin?"

His voice carries down the alley way as he runs to catch up with her.

[trigeminalheadache]

After the mayhem of her first day, Caitlin's relieved that her day has been quiet. Boring, even. She can ony hope that things will settle into a happy medium, instead of bouncing between the two extremes. There'd been a balance to things back home — not back home. She has to stop and mentally correct herself every so often, even though it's only been a little over two days. It isn't back home; it's her former life. But she knows it existed. It's real.

When she hears her name, she stops, half-turned toward the sound. That's... is it really... "Barry?"

She's gone pale in an instant, looking like she's seen a ghost. For her, she might as well have. Part of the last things she remembers is him being dead. Or, rather, Jay saying he was dead.

[runsonwater]

She turns and there's no room for doubt left. He rushes forward and throws his arms around her in a hug. He's missed her terribly, but he still never wanted for her to end up here. He keeps the hug brief however, before pulling back.

"Caitlin, I'm so sorry you're here. When did you get here?"

It had to have been recent. He's been keeping an eye out for any friends but the last couple of days had been more intense than most. "Are you okay?"