exsiliumlogs | Calling all cops and autobots

Date & Time: Pretty much any time from 28Feb throughout the month of March; specify in your comment subject!
Location: All across Exsilium!
Characters: Sergeant Calhoun and YOU!
Summary: While the sarge is out on patrol she winds up running into all kinds of people. And all kinds of trouble. The details are up to you! Wanna get busted? Wanna get rescued? Wanna get donuts? Anything goes, just be creative!
Warnings: Will be updated as necessary

Tamora had come to enjoy her duties as one of Exsilium's Finest, as it were. Not that the police force was particularly organized or notably well-trained, but she supposed they made the best of what they were given. When she'd first arrived in this place she'd been concerned that she would just go out of her mind without her job to keep her occupied, but policing the streets had become a pretty acceptable stand-in. There was a part of her that missed taking out cy-bugs (and an even bigger part of her that missed her colleagues back in Hero's Duty and the rest of the arcade), but moping never fixed anything. Tamora Jean Calhoun did not mope. And so instead she just set herself to cracking down and taking a bite out of crime and serving and protecting and all those fine upstanding things cops did.

Even if it meant dealing with her fair share of resistance. Heck, she kind of enjoyed the troublesome ones--she was a little rough by nature, after all, and figured one good hard time deserved another. She wasn't afraid to full-body tackle a suspect if it came to it, and had her share of bruises and scrapes from doing so. They might not have been laser burns or gashes from cy-bug pincers, but they were battle scars in their own rite.

She'd never been a huge fan of sweets, but she did frequent the local coffee shop when she had downtime, giving the other patrons leery looks over the lip of her mug as she sipped contemplatively at the bitter black liquid. Sometimes she tried her hand at making up ridiculous dramatic histories for the people standing in line. She hadn't bothered asking any of them if she was right or not; it was more fun to just assume the man in the fedora was a mafioso and the woman in the perfectly tailored pencil skirt behind him was his best hitman.

Even on her days off she more often than not found herself tooling around town on her cruiser, just making sure the peace was kept and everyone was coloring within the lines. Exsilium still didn't quite feel like 'home', but it was definitely something that was worth protecting, so far as she was concerned, and nothing was going to change her mind.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[There were perks and drawbacks to keeping his Organization cloak in his possession. On one hand? It was perfect for when he'd get caught in a downpour. The light drizzle of rain never really phased him, and anything harder he'd normally end up creating a barrier around himself.

Keyword being normally.

One of the drawbacks? It concealed his identity fairly well and if past experiences were any indication, running around in a strange world with the hood up and constantly looking over his shoulder is usually a bad thing. Light knows he still has a lump or two on his noggin from that day in Olympus when the imposter was out roaming around.

So there Demyx was, jogging down the sidewalk and around the corner as he searched frantically for something. When he finally spots the store he was looking for, he does a quick 180 and bolts towards it.]}

Ahh--! Don't close, don't close, don't close--!

_{[And just as luck would have it, the sign on the door flips to 'CLOSED'.

...Oh for Light's sake.]}

Aw, c'mon! Seriously, guys?!

[It's always kind of a crapshoot what sort of trouble she'll find on her rounds. Some days it seems the city has its act together and maybe living in anarchy isn't such a bad thing after all. Other days it's just plain pandemonium; lawlessness bursting at the seams. Today so far has been one of those in-between days, but as Tamora rounds a corner she happens to see a suspicious-looking fellow in a long coat, leaning mournfully against the front window of a closed shop. He's wearing a hood, obscuring his face, and Tamora swings the cruiser up behind him, frowning.

[Only hooligans wear hoods like this one, of that she's quite certain. It practically swallows his whole face in darkness--she can't even see his eyes! Undoubtedly he's casing the joint, just waiting til the streets are dark so he can break in and... steal bread, she guesses? Well it's still against the law and she isn't going to stand for it.

[Hopping down from the cruiser, Tamora straightens to her full height and lifts her chin a bit, approaching the man, who's glowering through the glass at the owner cleaning up. Reaching out, she tapped the stranger on the shoulder and then stepped back, hooking her thumbs in her belt loops.]

Store hours are posted on the door, civilian.

Calling all cops and autobots

late afternoon/early evening of the 28th?

no subject