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Daycycle 107 [ September 11 - September 17 ]

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.

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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?

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.

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."

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.

The guy finally turns around and, up close, it's uncanny the resemblance this man has to Jackson. There are differences, of course; Derek can't imagine Jackson cutting his hair like that because it'd mess with the Pretty Boy image he seemed to favor so much. The tattoo, for another. And this guy looks weathered and beaten, quite literally, which makes sense in the context of this meeting, but all of these signs still point to Definitely Not Jackson Whittemore.

Which leads Derek to ask. "...what's your name?" He pauses. "I missed the beginning of the fight; I didn't catch it."

...Derek's never been a very good conversationalist. He tries?

Ronan also has a scar running through his right eyebrow where his face nearly gotten by a night terror. Yeah, he doesn't care much about his face or keeping it 'pretty'. His hair, when he lets it grow out, is curly and he doesn't care much for that either so he keeps it buzzed short. The tattoo had been done, primarily, to piss his brother off. Ronan is all hard edges and sharp angles and that appearance extends to far more than just his physical features. It makes everything so much easier when people realize that he's not someone they think he is.

"Ronan Lynch," he says. Ronan isn't much of a conversationalist either, but he is trying a little more lately. He glances around at the crowd still behind them. "Come on. Let's get out of this crowd. I'm not everyone's favorite person." He looks sideways to Derek. "Your name?"

Ronan Lynch. Confirmed not to be Jackson. Derek can't actually decide if that's better or worse, but he's definitely leaning toward the former. Then again, he doesn't know this Ronan guy from Adam, so he could be on the wrong track entirely with that thought.

He gives a quick nod of acknowledgement and starts to follow the man a little further down the corridor toward the back. Derek has no idea if he's allowed to be back here, but the worst that can happen is that he gets into a fight in an attempt to resist arrest, he guesses. How much worse can jail here be than back home, anyway? He's pretty familiar with the boredom that comes with it; what else is new?

"Derek Hale," he replies. "You looked like someone I knew back home, once. In the face. Everything else is pretty different. I just wanted to be sure." He pauses. "That was a hell of a fight. You're pretty good out there."

Seriously, at this point, Ronan is grateful to be called by his actual name. Well, he's about as different from jackson as is possible, but at the same time he can still be a giant dick. It remains to be seen whether it's better or worse that he's not Jackson.

Ronan has no idea whether Derek is allowed back here or not either, but it's the place he's been using for a locker room before and after matches. He figures he's got a right to take anyone he wants back there. At the same time, Ronan doesn't care if he's allowed or not. The problem with punishment here is that it isn't always jail. Sometimes they drug you and Ronan hates when that happens.

"Yeah? I hear that a lot here. You new?" Because it's the first time he's hearing it from Derek. At the compliment, Ronan smirks a little and shakes his head. "My dad was Irish. Thought boxing was something every man ought to learn. I've been throwing punches since I was a little kid."

Nodding, Derek continues to follow the other man until they've disappeared out of sight entirely from the crowd.

"Sort of, yeah. I haven't been here all that long. A few days, a little less than a week," he explains. Reflexively, Derek looks over his shoulder. Probably too often. He misses being able to just hear whether there's a threat coming up on him. He misses it a lot.

Giving a facial shrug, Derek nods again, impressed. "Well, that's a better reason to learn to fight than the one I've got, anyway." Derek's reason is because he needed to know how to protect himself on the off chance that a hunter tracked him down on a lunar eclipse. "How long have you been here?"

Ronan relaxes a little then. Crowds aren't his thing and even less so when he's pretty sure at least half the crowd wants to kill him.

The paranoia won't even register with Ronan. He thinks it's probably a good practice in this group. Ronan misses having a pet Raven that would alert him to any kind of threat so while it's not the same thing, he understands.

Ronan tilts his head at Derek. "Yeah?" Clearly his tone says 'tell me more' without being too prying. That makes Ronan think a little bit. It's hard to keep track of time here. "Months. Maybe six or so?"

Derek catches the implication attached to that question. He's fishing for more information without having to come out and say he wants to know more. Derek isn't a big fan of sharing and caring as such, so he shrugs. "Yeah," he replies. "Long story." The tone says he's trying to shut the question down, not Ronan himself.

"That's a long time. Is it always this goddamn crazy?" he asks. He's only been here a couple of days and already every day feels like its own little special hell. It's not a whole lot better than Beacon Hills except that now Derek isn't in the eye of the storm. Here, he's largely an observer and he'd like to keep it that way.

Ronan nods a little, respecting Derek's desire not to share.

"Pretty fucking much," Ronan responds. Sorry, Derek. If he wanted it sugar coated, he should have gone to someone else. "And if you screw up too much, they drug the shit out of you. Fun stuff, Man." He says it in a sarcastic way, in the way of someone who has experienced it personally.

"Great," he sighs. On the contrary, Derek's actually the type of person who prefers brutal honesty. Sugarcoating doesn't do him any favors. As for the drugging, while he hasn't experienced it — yet — he can't imagine it would be a good time. Especially since he hasn't got his werewolf metabolism to override whatever they might feel inclined to put into his system.

Shrugging, Derek squints a little in thought before responding. "I'm the king of screwing up. You just have to learn to screw up quietly, is all," he replies. Which actually gives him an idea.

If someone told him, ever, that he'd feel the urge to find a way to partner up with someone who looked like Jackson Whittemore, he'd never have believed them. "Actually...maybe we can scratch each other's backs a little with that," he thinks aloud.

Derek knows how to fight, but without his werewolf abilities, he's not very good at it. Honestly, even with them, he isn't very good at it, he can just take a hell of a licking and keep on ticking. "You're a better fighter than I am. I'm better at screwing up under the radar, from the sounds of it, than you are. Maybe we can learn a thing or two from one another and both benefit from it. If you're interested. If you're not, then oh well, but I'm just throwing that out there."

In that respect, Ronan and Derek will get along just fine. Ronan isn't even good at sugar coating things for his younger brother, whom he loves more than just about anything, whom he tries to protect and guard from everything in life. It's definitely not a good time and Ronan only has a plain ole human metabolism to process the drug. Actually, on the drug, Ronan had a pretty good time, but afterwards it was hell knowing that he hadn't been in control of himself.

Ronan smirks at that. "And I don't do anything quietly." He could stand to learn in this place though. It might save him some grief in the future.

By the same token, if someone told Ronan that he was thinking of trusting anyone here further than he could throw them, he'd laugh. However, Derek makes a good proposal. He purses his lips, thinking about it a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I think that's something we could work out." He sizes Derek up a little. "You're a big guy. You move like you've got some coordination. Shouldn't be hard to get you into fighting shape."

Derek smirks a little at Ronan's response. Yeah, he gets that feeling just talking to the guy, but that's something that's an easy fix with some advice from a pro and some dedication to the cause. If Ronan wants to avoid the drugging, he'll put forth the dedication and if he doesn't, well...then that's his problem and not Derek's. Derek will have done his part of the deal.

He can tell that he's being sized up and he lifts his chin a little. "I'm in fighting shape, I'm just too reactive and not proactive enough." He knows what his shortcomings in a fight are; hell, he'd trained Isaac, Erica, and Boyd to avoid the same weaknesses. The problem is that he's not very good at identifying ways to be defensive rather than offensive and offensive, he's overzealous. It's how he loses nearly every fight he takes on.

So at least Ronan will have a place to start. Derek knows the problem, he just doesn't know the solution.

Oh, he'd like to avoid the drugging. He's just not sure he's ready to shut up, but he'll get there. He'll learn he can buck the man and avoid punishment, at least a good deal of the time.

Ronan nods a little at that. He understand being reactive. He's guilty of the same thing, but it's different when he knows he's going into a fight, when he's fighting to win as opposed to fighting because of something some jerk said. "I can work with you on that," he promises. Once they're back in the locker room, he grabs his jumpsuit and heads out back toward his room, he jerks his chin to one side, inviting Derek to follow him if he likes.

"We ought to be able to use the gym for it."

Ronan says that he can work with Derek on that and Derek knows that he can work with Ronan on the mouthing off part — it's really up to them individually how successful they'll end up being with one another's advice being put into action, he supposes. It's worth a shot, anyway.

At the gesture, Derek follows Ronan, realizing a little belatedly that they're probably headed back to the sleeping quarters. That's probably not a bad idea, considering it's getting late and Derek has no idea, still — nor is he interested in testing the theory — whether or not the sleep aid gas is released throughout the whole Complex or if it's just in the rooms. If he had his gas mask on him, it wouldn't matter, but he doesn't, so it's worth getting back to his room before 22:00 just in case, anyway.

"That works for me," he agrees as they continue on, making their way back toward the Wagon Wheel. "When do you want to start? I wouldn't want to interrupt your kicking their asses, after all," he says with a little smirk. "Especially if you make money off your wins."

That's kind of the case for most endeavors and won't be a surprise to Ronan. He hadn't put much effort into school and he'd nearly failed, only passing his junior year because Gansey bribed the dean and because he didn't want to disappoint his friend. He'd only gotten his diploma because Gansey had bribed the dean again. It wasn't that he wasn't smart; he just didn't go to class (with the exception of Latin Class) and when he did, he didn't study. School wasn't ever really Ronan's thing.

Yeah, Ronan figures he'll have time for a shower and to unwind just a bit before the sleeping aid goes off. He hasn't yet got a gas mask, but it's on his list of things to get for both he and Adam. He's got no idea where the sleep aid is released either, though it would be good to figure it out.

Ronan ponders that a moment. "I'm not sure when they're going to give me a break, but next week would probably safe." He smirks at Derek. "You know, I'd hit these assholes for fun, but I'm in there for the money."

Laughing, Derek nods. "Can't say I blame you," he replies with a grin. He'd be tempted to kick the shit out of some of the other Alphas, too, if he'd been drugged for having an independent mind.

They reach the corridor where their sleeping quarters are shortly after and he claps a hand on Ronan's shoulder. "All right, man, congrats on the fight. Just gimme a shout on the, uh, that network or whatever, the thing on the PDC. When you're ready to start and have some time on your hands to do it."

Derek supposes that means he'll need to check the stupid PDC, which he's not all that interested in, but at least now, thanks to Felicity — we're not thinking about her, Derek — he actually knows how. "Next week is better than never."

There's so many more reasons to kick the shit out of the Alphas, not all of them, but some of them.

"Thanks," Ronan responds then nods. "Will do. Talk to you later," he lifts his hand in a wave to Derek, then turns to go to his own room. He's got to get cleaned up and put something on some of these cuts.

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Daycycle 107 [ September 11 - September 17 ]

daycycle 107

[Sept 11 - Sept 17]

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