thearena | (no subject)

Who|: Alex Murphy and OTA if you want a run-in with the law (high possibility of Alex attacking depending on criminal activity levels.).
What|: A neurosuppressed Alex Murphy patrols the first floor of the Arena's Mall. He's on the lookout for theft, damage to property, assault, squatting, loitering, etc. There is a high possibility of Alex attacking depending on the criminal activity he witnesses - he will start with verbal warnings, escalating to non-lethal incapacitation to lethal force depending on resistance from the other Tribute. That said, he's also obligated to assist "law-abiding" Tributes if you need the muscle.
Where|: First Floor
When|: First couple of days, early Arena
Warnings/Notes|: Don't litter in front of him. It's a downward spiral.

Having no ranged weapons means Alex Murphy's effectiveness is halved - any pacification will have to be hand-to-hand and that's unacceptably slow in comparison. Suspects can slip away, hide, squeeze their bodies into spots that he's too big to fit. Alex puts out a call for backup but his HUD comes up with [...CONNECTION ERROR....TRY AGAIN...] and he assumes at this point he's operating alone.

Fine. He was built to operate without a partner because those slow him down, make another target that he needs to protect. He doesn't approve of his missing weapons or the connection errors, though, and that will have to be dealt with once he's back. Staff need to be fired. He'll need more maintenance.

Alex moves on without getting shook up about how screwed up everything is. He was told about what they did to him, listening as one of those techs shedding glitter on him went on about neurosuppression, how he'll be much better in the Arena this time around. He agrees. He doesn't worry about a Tribute jumping out of him from the shadows or keep thinking about that non-existent backup. No more adrenaline spikes. Alex simply makes his rounds, a steady thud of armored graphene announcing where he is at all times. His head swivels left and right, the visor's red slit gleaming red as he checks for crimes in progress and it doesn't matter how big or small it is.

It will be dealt with.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a Forever 21 knockoff at what looks to be the center of the mall, and it's a far enough distance away from the Cornucopia that Skye decides now is a good time to stop and change out of the stupid spangly leotard into something more comfortable.

She doesn't bother with a changing room, because cutting off her line of sight by locking herself in a tiny room is surefire stupidity; instead she ducks behind a rack and strips down to her underwear, grabs a pair of jeans that look like they'll fit, and pulls them on. There's a security tag on the waistband, but it presents her little trouble; she learned to get those off with minimal damage years ago. Next, she needs a shirt, and she stops to consider those for a moment before reaching for a tank top.

Alex makes one of his first stops - there's the steady thud of armored graphene feet followed by a strange whirring sound that gives Skye the warning that she's not alone. The intruder also happens to be between her and the door.

He stops to survey the clothing racks, his movements unhurried, too-smooth to be organic. When Alex turns to pace down the aisle, he pivots with his body divided up in segments. Head comes first, then chest, then hips, everything precise and unworried about the idea of a Tribute coming at him from behind a display. Hard to stab you in the chest when you have several inches of graphene and titanium in the way.

He finds Skye in the women's area at the tank tops. His targeting reticule dances from her face to the jeans, then over to what looks like a tag on the floor a few feet away. [ Possible theft in progress ] pops up on his HUD.

"Have you paid for those, miss?" Alex asks, polite, with that clinical disinterest.

There is nothing polite about a (probably heavily armed, by Skye's experience) robot staring you down.

Did she pay for these? Really? She's been abducted by a police state, thrown into prison, assaulted by a peacekeeper, and now chucked into this arena for the happy murder Hungry Games. That's payment enough, thanks.

But Skye just smiles, completely exuding confidence barefoot in only jeans and a bra. "I'm requisitioning them, actually," she says, mimicking his professional tone. "Federal mandate."

He doesn't even flick an unconscious glance down at Skye's bra, like he might've when he was a normal human being. Alex's eyes are fixed on her face as he tries - and fails - to bring up his emotional analysis programming to determine if she's lying. It doesn't help that he's unable to connect to the databases to see if she's registered as a federal employee. He can't even connect to the DMV.

It's...disappointing.

"Federal mandate," Alex repeats flatly. "What branch? Name?"

Not that he can check, but he knows from experience that if you keep pushing on those grey-area suspects, you can sometimes get them to fold in their own lie. So far Skye's confident attitude is buying her precious time and she hasn't shown any common tells like looking away or nervously blinking. No licking of the lips or shifting weight from foot to foot. The good news is he hasn't moved closer to confiscate the clothes, Alex going so still it's unnatural as he studies her.

Even if he could access the DMV, he'd find nothing: there are no records of Skye, anywhere--except inside of SHIELD. She's as good as a ghost, she saw to that herself.

"SHIELD," Skye supplies, turning to place him just at the edge of her line of sight so she can grab a tank top and pull it on, tucking it into her jeans. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

He seems to be buying it. It's even less than half a lie, and that's what makes it so easy to sell: in her world or out of it, with her team or without them, she's still a SHIELD agent. It's a part of who she is now.

"Ah," Alex says simply. There's another pause, long enough to start giving doubt about the strength of her lie, before he speaks up again. "How much do you need to requisition?"

In other words, he's ready to offer her another pair of arms. It's part of his job description to assist federal agents if they require it and he doesn't have it in him anymore to grumble about federal agents pissing all over Detroit like Detroit doesn't matter. He ignores the tag on the floor.

Whoa, really? Seriously? Just like that? Well, she's not going to look a gift...copbot in the mouth. She debates putting on another Melinda May show, but decides against it; all he has to do is look at the tribute list once they get out of this hell hole to find out she's lying about that much, and it's all down hill from there.

Besides, there's no reason to be Agent May when Agent Skye is just as real and more her.

Skye pulls a flannel shirt off a hanger, cracks the tag, and pulls it on.

"Enough to fly solo until my team can come in and extract me."

Alex considers the odds of that happening - he can't connect back to the station and any feeds coming in and out of the Arena seem to be just static. "That may be awhile. You should consider a safe location and securing enough food and water."

He glances over as someone shouts, the sound cut off. He debates breaking conversation with Skye to check it out but decides ultimately to make sure she's properly assisted first. She is a federal agent, after all. He prioritizes her just underneath an OmniCorp Red Asset and above the average law-abiding citizen.

That said, he isn't sure why flannel seems to be important to her. Clothes are clothes. And that shirt looks so flimsy it won't stop incoming weapons.

"How can I assist you?"

The options here are--wow. What couldn't she do with her own personal robotic bodyguard? Keep everyone off her ass, for one.

But--no. There are so many reasons why that's a bad idea. For one, she's no Coulson or May, and she's sure as hell no Ward; she'll slip up sometime, give something away, and then she'll be dead more likely than not. And for another, she can't help thinking of Mike, and how much that feels like it would be taking advantage.

"Is the area secure?" she asks instead. "Are there any other tributes in the vicinity I should be concerned about?"

Alex thinks about it, about what he knows from the Tributes based on their publicly available scores and who he personally had interactions with. He pulls up the list, tabs it on his HUD to the side of his peripheral vision. It only takes a second to run down the list and start picking out 11s, 12s - not thinking that Skye might think 8-9s could be threats too.

"Mr. Barnes, Thor, Gannicus, Mr. Laufeyson, Starkiller, the Initiate, Ms. Milo, Ms. Cocktease, Ms. Romanova, Ms. Guevara, Mr. Garak, Mr. Solus, and Mr. Rogers, are rated as 11 and higher, respectively."

He pauses, then decides to amend that.

"Mr. Rogers is on my file as law-abiding, however, and saved my life in the past. He'll be the one least likely to kill you."

Unfortunately he can't tell Skye if the area is secure. Too many possibly criminal elements and he hasn't finished his rounds of the place.