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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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Laughing, Lydia gasps, pretending to be scandalized. "I would never!" she counters, but the amusement in her voice completely gives her away. "At least you think it's a good idea," she purrs coyly back at him.

As much as Lydia doesn't really like giving a blind man — even one with some newly acquired vision — a straight razor instead of an Exacto knife or scissors or something, Matt knows his limits. She trusts him to be honest if it's becoming too difficult to do given the unsatisfactory tool she's given him to use against the memory foam's bounce back sort of texture.

A proud little smile takes over her expression at his comment. "Yeah, I kinda did...I didn't actually expect that many. I guess the idea of smelling nice trumps the necessity to trust a person knows what the hell they're doing when they're making something that stringent meant to go on your skin. I mean, I do know what I'm doing, I just didn't expect so many volunteers."

"I'd be stupid not to," he volleys back. Of course, he thinks it's a good idea. It's a fantastic idea and one he's still thinking about.

He'd feel a lot worse about all of this if he couldn't be helpful. He hates that he feels blind, deaf, and numb here. Even having his vision doesn't make up for the lack not having his senses has left. He tests the razor carefully against the memory foam, attempting to judge how much pressure he's going to have to use to cut it, how much it will take to shape it and that sort of thing.

He's very proud of her and she should be proud of herself. He can hear that pride in her voice and he glances over at her quickly to see the smile on her face. If he could get used to the amount of stimuli that the vision implants give him, he might appreciate being able to see. Of course, the things he missed being able to see like the sky and the sun, New York in the spring and the skyline at night, none of those things exist here. He's having to come up with a whole new list of things that he's grateful to be able to see.

"I can't blame them. We've got so few luxuries in this place. People are eager to take any offered to them." He's busily trying to shave the foam into shape while he talks, eyes open as he focuses on the block of memory foam. He really is paying attention. He just feels like his senses are so wrapped in cotton and the implants are still so overwhelming. He overestimates how much pressure is needed to shape the foam and the razor slips, slicing into his thumb. He watches the blood well against his skin and for a moment, he's not even sure what has happened. He remembers pain and this is dull in comparison (because his sense of touch is so dull in comparison to what it is back home). He'd forgotten that blood was so bright. Finally, he shakes himself out of his stupor. "Uhm...Lydia, do we have a first aid kit down here?"

Laughing, Lydia cocks her eyebrows more to herself than to Matt. "You said it, not me. Just remember that," she says gently, sounding amused.

The fact that they have so few luxuries is a large part of the reason why Lydia decided on soaps and perfumes. That and it's easy. Her main goal is to climb the ranks so that she can spend more alone time with Matt without having to break the rules to do it. That GREEN jumpsuit she has is super useful, but it's also super risky. "That's a good point. I'd still be wary if I didn't know me, if I were in their shoes," she says honestly. The fact of the matter is, they don't know if she's trustworthy or not. For all they know, she just gave them skin-eating acid for their next shower. She hasn't, of course, and maybe it's the fact that she's a Special that gives them the confidence they have, but either way, she's not questioning it. She needed testers. It is what it is.

At his question, Lydia pauses in her work and looks over at him. "Yeah, why?" It takes her a second. Then she sees it. "Oh, babe..." she says sympathetically, setting down her own work and looking for the first aid kit. She knows Steve got one and left it down here. She's almost positive. "Are you okay?" she asks, as she looks around. It takes a minute, but she finds it and picks it up, setting it down on the table she's working on. "Here, let me see. Come here..." She bites back the I told you to be really careful... that's sitting on the tip of her tongue because it's mean and it's the last thing he needs to hear right now, she's sure.

Matt knows the reasons why she's doing this, that it's not selfless. However, that doesn't make it any less admirable that she wants the people here to have some luxuries. "I probably would as well," he admits, but he has to be careful and paranoid back home because of what he does. He does think that being a Special helps, particularly with the other Specials. It's that 'one of us' mentality that's not always a bad thing.

The anger in him builds along with the blood welling up on his thumb. It's not just the implants; it's not even simply the lack of his senses that he's angry at, though that's his focus right now. It's the general helplessness that he feels here, the way that this place, the Alphas look at him like he's defective, that a group had seen him as so defective they'd felt the need to kidnap him and 'fix' his vision against his will. "Fuck!" he screams at the top of his lungs, sweeping the hand he's cut across the table and sending everything to the floor. He wants to punch things; he wants to destroy things; he wants to rage until someone gives him back everything he's lost. "I'm so fucking sick and tired of feeling deaf, numb and more fucking blind than I have ever been in my life!"

He's not mad at Lydia. He's really not. He's mad at this entire situation.

Lydia's never actually seen Matt in a foul mood before. She knows, of course, everyone has them. Even she isn't immune. It's just...new to see in Matt and after he sweeps the table with an angry, bleeding hand, Lydia snatches his wrists in her hands. It isn't because she's worried about the foam, because it's foam and she isn't. But if the cut is deep enough, being rough with his hand in his frustration isn't going to help.

"Matty," she says, another pet name slipping out and she shakes her head, "Matt," she corrects herself and keeps her voice calm and even, soft-spoken for his benefit. "Listen...hey." She's trying to pull his attention back to her when, right now, it's clearly on his anger at the situation. Although she's not entirely sure she understands his complaint in a literal sense, at least figuratively, she knows the feeling.

One of her hands moves to touch the side of his face briefly before she lays his injured hand on the table and opens the first aid kit to irrigate the wound so that she can see if it's deep or whether it's just a surface injury that a Band-Aid will handle just fine. "That's not going to help. I know it's frustrating. I know it's enraging at times, but yelling about it isn't going to change anything and it isn't actually going to make you feel better. There are other ways. If you want, I'll try to help you. But, in my experience, cranking the volume doesn't ever actually do anything except make your throat raw. What do you do when you need to work out frustrations at home?"

Lydia has sex. Rough, raunchy sex with guys she barely knows. But that's Lydia. This is Matt. She imagines he probably has a healthier outlet for his own upsets. Now it'll just be a matter of trying to replicate them here in Alpha Complex.

She makes quick work of trying to clean out his cut. "This isn't so bad. I don't think you're going to need stitches or anything. It doesn't look that deep..." she murmurs softly, mostly to herself, because she gets the feeling that the cut itself is the last thing on Matt's mind right now.

He generally controls his foul moods, particularly around her. He doesn't want to expose her to that and he's not good when he loses his temper; case in point. He loses a lot of steam when she grabs his wrists because he doesn't want to hurt her even accidentally, but his jaw remains tight, clenched.

He doesn't mind the pet names. He really doesn't. His dad used to call him Matty when he was a little kid. It's nice to hear it again even if he's not really thinking about that right now. His attention moves to her and his clenched jaw relaxes a little.

"You can't--you don't understand," he grates out, frustration rather than anger filling his voice. "Before all of this, using a stupid straight razor was child's play." She's right though, yelling and trashing the lab won't do anything to help him feel better. It won't make the situation any better at all. "Hit something," he says. Usually it's a bad guy, but he can't tell her that, can he? "A punching bag," he finally says.

Matt definitely doesn't do that. He's not above a one night stand with someone he barely knows, but he doesn't use it as a coping mechanism. He's not sure that his outlet is any healthier than hers though considering he generally beats people to a pulp when he's feeling like this.

He nods a little. "It'll be okay. I heal well." Or he did. In theory, the meditation he used back home to heal wounds should work here, but considering nothing else seems to work that might not be the case. She's right about the cut being the last thing on his mind though. All he can think about is how damn useless he is here.

The thing is, she does understand, in a way. But Lydia doesn't tell Matt that, because she assumes that he's talking about the eye implants; his new vision. She likens that to the voices in her head when she'd first gotten them and how hard it had been to grapple with that new sense until she'd gotten the hang of it. Relating to him, though, means admitting she isn't normal and she's not ready for that. Not yet. "I get it, but that doesn't make what I said any less true, sweetie." Her voice is still soft and even and hopefully gentle enough to be at least mildly reassuring.

Lydia wets a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol in the absence of hydrogen peroxide. "This is going to sting, babe, but I want to make sure it's clean, because we don't know where that razor has been."

He says that he hits things to calm himself and Lydia nods as she cleans the wound, holding his hand a little tighter to keep him from reflexively pulling away with the sting. As she settles a bandage over his cut, deeming it too shallow for stitches, she looks up at his face again. "Then we'll find you a punching bag." Her voice is confident and firm, like she's stating a fact. Lydia thinks she is. She'll figure it out somehow. If that's what Matt needs for an outlet, then that's what Matt will get, if Lydia has anything to say about it.

It's probably a little the same, at least the implants are. What's different is that he feels useless because he doesn't have his sense of hearing, touch or smell. He's not ready to tell her about his senses either and it's not as if it matters here because he doesn't have those senses now, which is really the problem. It is soothing and reassuring. It helps him get control of that anger and nudges his foul mood into something a little better.

He shakes his head a little, his version of 'it's okay' in that moment. He hisses, wincing ever so slightly. He knows she has to clean it and that's fine. He's dealt with much worse pain.

He's grateful that the cut is too shallow for stitches. He doesn't want to spend anymore time in medical than he already has with his implants. "I'm sorry," he apologizes for his outburst. "I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I'm frustrated and angry. I want to help you and I feel helpless."

Lydia shakes her head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go of his hand entirely to pack up the first aid kit again, now that she's finished. "You didn't take it out on me," she says softly, looking down, and there's something about her tone that suggests she knows exactly what it feels like to have someone take their anger out on her. Matt was angry and he had a little outburst, but he didn't take out that anger on her. Just on the lab.

"But I know you're frustrated and angry, and you should be, Matt. Anybody would be," she says gently, moving to him once the first aid kit is packed up again. She moves a hand up to hold his jaw, tilting her head just slightly as she looks back at him. Then, she leans forward slightly and presses her lips to his in a chaste kiss.

"We'll find a punching bag," she promises again. "And we'll figure out a way to make this better," she adds. What she means, exactly, by this is a little unclear, but in actuality that's probably because she's not really sure.

His brow furrows because he does hear that in her tone and it worries him. It also makes him angry. He'd like to hit whomever had taken his anger out on her. He watches her, eyes focused only on her, trying to block out every other visual stimuli. His breath catches. "I'm sorry, Lydia." And this time, he isn't apologizing for something he's done. He reaches out to run his thumb along her forehead, pushing hair off her face.

He closes his eyes at the kiss, taking a deep breath of her. He glides his fingertips over her skin, soaking in every sensation from the feel of her lips to the feel of her skin and the smell of her. It centers him, grounds him.

He takes another deep breath and nods a little. "Okay," he tells her. "Okay." He's got no idea how they're going to do that, how they're going to make anything okay, but he takes comfort in her words anyway. He winds his fingers in her hair, holding her close, eyes still closed. He's not sure what it says about him that he's more comfortable in the dark, more comfortable with his eyes closed.

Lydia shakes her head at his apology, but she doesn't actually say anything. There are worse things than being shoved into a locker and yelled at. It wasn't like Jackson had always treated her that way or anything. It had been the one time and in retrospect, he'd mostly been scared because he hadn't understood what was happening to him and he'd placed the blame on Lydia.

There were worse things than being targeted and attacked for being something she hadn't chosen to be. Yeah, she'd been hospitalized and, okay, the A.S.S. had nearly killed her, but it was just one time and she'd been fine the next day.

There were worse things. She had to tell herself that to avoid allowing herself to feel like a victim, because she's Lydia Goddamn Martin and she's nobody's victim. Nobody's.

She's quiet as Matt seems to use her to find his center and some part of her feels a surge of pride that she can be that person for him in this place. He might not know it, but he's that person for her, too, now. "Okay," she echoes softly, nodding and peppering little kisses on the apples of his cheeks. "I can do this tomorrow, Matt, I'm not in a rush with the beauty blenders."

She shakes her head, but he keeps his hand on her face, touch tender and gentle. He keeps his eyes focused on her, willfully shutting everything out except Lydia.

He wishes he'd been here during that. He hates that happened to her and he would like to beat everyone that had anything to do with it within an inch of their lives. He's so grateful that she's okay now.

Her attitude is good and that's part of what has Matt falling in love with Lydia.

She has definitely become that person for him and he's so glad that he can be that person for her, so pleased and proud. The way that she kisses him makes him smile ever so slightly. He nods a little at her reassurance. "Okay. Why don't we spend the rest of the night on the couch?"

With a little smile that falls just short of her eyes, Lydia nods at Matt's suggestion. She has to bite back the urge to ask to stay the night with him again because they promised one another they'd take it slower and she's already stayed with him several nights this week. Too many is too fast and too invasive of her, she thinks. If he invites her, she'll absolutely go, but she's not going to ask him on her own.

"That sounds good," she agrees, taking his hand in one of her own and leading him toward the couch. "Can we just be gross and cuddle for a while? Long days require extra recharging, right? I always figure that's the best way to achieve it."

He hasn't been able to see Lydia long enough to really notice that the smile falls short of her eyes and really, if he were thinking further ahead than a few minutes at a time, he might be able to guess that she's disappointed. It's not that he doesn't want her to stay the night with him, more that he still worries she'll get caught.

"That sounds like the perfect way to spend the rest of the night," he smiles ever so slightly at her.

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Daycycle 107 [ September 11 - September 17 ]

daycycle 107

[Sept 11 - Sept 17]

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