exsiliumlogs | Calling all cops and autobots

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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.

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_{[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?!

Riku didn't normally drink coffee. He drank tea, and he had made sure Calhoun had known that since the day they met, making little faces when he saw her down a cup. It was too strong, he said. It reminds me of this really mean English teacher I had, he said. Doesn't it color your teeth, Sarge, he said.

He's made himself scarce for a few days, as he sometimes does. He needs to be alone some days; he doesn't check in because he's never been taught to. Just leaves, doesn't leave a note, doesn't give her a heads up. He may be her student in a way, but Riku's still far too used to being alone and depending on himself for a bulk of his time to really subscribe to that student mentality. Part of him already knows that he'd get skinned alive if he tried this in the Sky Force back home; part of him really doesn't care for the moment, because he feels a dark ache in his chest and he wants it to go away quick.

Being immune to other's Darkness didn't mean he could keep his Darkness in check. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up hurting himself, and maybe even some others.

... and he needed to wake up. He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand as he strides into the shop, right past Calhoun without a second glance, too tunnel-visioned to even look at anyone else while he's bundled up with a coat and a scarf. He orders a coffee (he makes a face and just waves a hand, ordering whatever the barista deems as 'good') and, once it's made, turning around--

And he spots Calhoun right there, and freezes up.

[While the unsubtle hat pulled down low to cover this scruffy looking man's eyes is by no means a fedora, it is certainly gaudy enough to make an impression at a distance.

He is sitting quite relaxed on a decrepit looking bench, a cane hooked over the back of it, whistling a jaunty tune that sounds suspiciously like it came from a Beatles back catalogue, and is taking time out from his tuneful interlude to toss handfuls of crumbs from the bag of Cornish pasties he's enjoying at an equally unkempt looking flock of pigeons in the area, irregardless of the flaking paint on a nearby board that states- albeit shabbily- that patrons are kindly asked to NOT feed the pigeons.]

Ridiculous dramatic histories, you say?

Well, here's one ridiculous sight; a young teenager striding into the store with a long green snake in tow. Usually on most occasions, she leaves Hibiscus in her Pokeball, but sometimes it just didn't feel right to stuff her only partner here in sphere. The Serperior deserved some exercise and sunlight too (whatever little sunlight they got here, anyways).

Mei didn't expect the looming clouds to just start raining though. And rain hard. Taking shelter in the nearby coffee shop seemed like a good idea at first, after all, she's been here before once or twice to get some of their delicious hot chocolate. But soon almost everyone's staring at the drenched girl and the quiet snake that seems to almost naturally at everyone.

Kang had figured out the tablet that he'd been given. It was fairly user-friendly, lucky for him, and he'd always been a quick learner. There were a couple of features that he'd yet to figure out, though, and he sat at a table by himself at the coffee shop, fiddling with his tablet and muttering curses in Nerakese every now and then (the usage of Nerakese, if anything, made his harsh accent even more noticeable). He scowled, pressing a few buttons with a claw, and cursed again as he hit the wrong ones by accident.

It's the wee hours of the morning and Nepeta is scampering up some buildings, jumping from wall to wall to reach greater heights. She's not going anywhere in particular--just determined to keep on moving. She may not be the powerhouse that her moirail was, but that wasn't to say she would ever slack on her own exercise. That high you got when you pushed your body to new limits was one of the best feelings in her opinion, and lately she had been resorting to it more and more to try and stave off her increasing bouts of anxiety.

It was then that she noticed something curious she hadn't before. There was a strange device floating in the air--some sort of hovercraft? Nepeta was far from tech savvy but that's what she'd label it as. She could see someone on it, and her curious nature took over and she made her way towards them.

She waited till the person was moving inbetween two buildings, and jumped from one to the next. As she was jumping over, she raised a hand and gave a bright smile.

"HIYA!"

Thankfully, she made a safe landing.

[Ralph strolls along the aisles of the marketplace, attempting to scrounge up a meal for himself. Going from living in the dump to having an apartment and food at almost any time has been quite an adjustment, and he's making a conscious effort to control his appetite, not to overdo it on the food intake.

Honestly, spending so much time in Sugar Rush before finding himself in Exsilium has made his sweet tooth rather active.... Ooooh, some chocolate would really hit the spot right now, or even some cherries... too bad the cherries here are so tiny compared to the ones from PacMan.

Before he can make for the candy vendor, he spots Sergeant Calhoun turning the corner, making her rounds, though it's never easy to tell if she's on or off duty. He approaches her with a smile and a wave.]

Hey Sarge! Seems like a quiet day, huh? Or are there ne'er-do-wells scuttling about the seedy underbelly of Exsilium?

[He holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers like insect legs in a playful attempt to be creepy, but his goofy smile gives him away.]

[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.

Getting a cup of coffee before patrol had become an old habit back from Death City. Some days just required a small cup the stuff. It wasn't a daily occurrence, however it did happen with some frequency.

Today just happens to be one of those days. Some time still remains before his shift on the police force beings so a small cup of coffee couldn't hurt. Kratos enters the coffee shop dressed in full military garb and with fiery sword sword at his side. The coffee assistant, upon seeing him the first time, had nearly saluted (it might've stroked Kratos' ego a bit, really). This time, however, the girl gives him a smile and asks if he wants the usual. A nod and thank you later, the girl is off making him some plain old black coffee and Kratos is left waiting.

"HIYA CALHOON!"

Sonic decided to say hi while Calhoon is tooling around on her patrols.

While she's still flying. He waves energetically, and then hops onto the board next to her, hanging on with effortless-looking balance.

"WHOO, hahah! Howzigoin'? Man, you didn't tell me you had Gear like this!"

Edited 2013-03-02 06:41 (UTC)

Tamora knows Riku's a big boy (especially now that he's, you know, not five years old anymore), but when several days pass without hearing from him she can't really help being a bit concerned. She's never been the worrying type, really, but it's second nature to keep tabs on the people who are worth keeping tabs on, after all, but she's not about to invade his privacy if he needs some alone time. She of all people can understand the need for a little solitude from time to time.

She's surprised then to see him enter the coffee shop. Mainly because he doesn't drink coffee and she knows it, and gives her a hard time about her caffeine addiction often. Listening as he clumsily orders whatever the general recommendation is (what a coffee rookie!), she waits for him to turn around and notice her.

Ah, there it is: that look of utter shock, tinged with a grain or two of quiet panic at being caught. She thinks that he looks rather like he's just been spotted at a place he'd shouted something about never being caught dead at. Regarding him coolly over the lip of her mug, she lifts her eyebrows as she takes a long drag of her drink, then sets the coffee down.

"Well," she says, inclining her chin and giving him a practiced stinkeye, "don't we look like the cat who swallowed the cookie jar."

One day she'll get those idioms right and stop combining them. That day is not today.

He gives her a brief moment of confusion (cat who swallowed the...? what?) before he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, to save face.

"I'm just holding this for a friend."

... oh, yeah, that was smooth.

[Well, unauthorized pigeon-feeding isn't exactly a misdemeanor, she has to figure, but it's still in direct violation of posted signage. Besides, this guy has a look about him that tells Tamora he's trouble. She can just tell about these sorts of things, oh yes. This guy is definitely trouble, animal rights enthusiasm notwithstanding.

[Best nip things in the bud. Winging the cruiser around the back of the bench (and noting that the pigeons are far too enthralled with the offerings of carbohydrates to even care much about her advent), she hops down from the vehicle and stands to one end. Folding her arms, she gives the man a bit of a frown.]

Keep feeding 'em junk food and they'll get too fat to fly, you know?

Now there was something she didn't see every day. Granted, this place was full of oddities, Tamora had to admit, but of all things to see in a coffee shop, a giant snake was never one she expected. Er... well, it looked mostly like a snake. Admittedly she'd never seen a snake quite like this one (it almost looked like it had spiky ears and a fancy popped collar!), but either way, whatever it was, she had certainly never seen one that drank coffee.

The creature's owner seems to be a young girl, and Tamora found herself boggling at the girl's unusual hairstyle. Even though it was sagging a bit in the rain, the up'do looked rather like an homage to Princess Leia. Interesting. Well, the girl wasn't young enough that she was particularly concerned about her being out by herself, but she had to cave to a bit of curiosity about the snake. Setting her mug down, she tilted her head and waited to catch the girl's eye.

"That's quite a critter you've got there," she said, glancing at the reptilian creature with a look that teetered somewhere between intrigue and befuddlement. Tamora might have had a bit of an issue with bugs, but snakes had never bothered her, and in fact she found them kind of cool.

Tamora hadn't noticed Kang when she'd walked in, but as she retrieved her beverage and turned to look for a table, the guttural sound of what was unmistakably a four-letter word (regardless of the language) caught her ear. She spotted the draconian in a corner sort of hunched over his tablet and looking mighty exasperated, and she had to smile a bit. Well, she wasn't sure she'd have much luck typing with claws either.

Approaching the table, she hovered nearby for a moment before clearing her throat softly.

"Technology giving you lip?" she asked benignly.

She'd been bad at sleeping ever since Brad's death, and even after finding happiness again with Felix to help fill the hole left in her heart, Tamora still dealt with frequent bouts of insomnia. It didn't help that here in Exsilium she didn't even have Felix, and so missing him was just one more thing rattling around in her cluttered head, chasing sleep away like a spooked animal. She supposed it was good she had something to occupy herself with during the long sleepless hours, at least; idle hands had never suited her, and this city needed all the policing it could get. She wasn't getting paid for her off-duty dabbling, but it was better than staring at the ceiling in the apartment.

Cruising quietly down the darkened streets, Tamora kept a sharp eye out for any sign of tomfoolery. So far it seemed like this would prove to be a quiet evening. As she turned down a shadowed alley, however, she jumped, startled by a sound from... above? Snapping her head up, she watched in puzzled awe as a figure soared overhead, easily clearing the space of the alley to land on the adjacent rooftop. Well, she'd be lambasted.

Too impressed to really be on-edge, Tamora swung the cruiser around and made a sharp ascent, rounding the corner of the building and clearing the ledge to see if her unexpected company had lingered. Spying a youthful-looking girl with greyish skin and big yellow eyes, she blinked. Ah, perhaps this girl was a troll like Maryam? Yes, she seemed to have the same unusual orange horns, though the shape was different.

She recalled Maryam having mentioned that trolls were a race of warriors, but this one didn't seem particularly belligerent. Intrigued, Tamora hopped down off the cruiser and regarded the girl curiously.

"Pretty impressive acrobatics," she said with a shallow grin.

[That's the secret, Ralph: she's always on-duty. Even when she's off-duty. Today's her day off, actually, but given that she tends to dress in dark clothes and always looks like Serious Business Is Afoot, it is hard to tell. Her cruiser is folded up and slung on one shoulder, mostly because the market's a bit crowded today and mowing people down is generally frowned upon. On- or off-duty, lunchtime is to be taken seriously, and today is no exception. She's bought herself a sandwich and a bag of Cheetos, a bottle of water tucked into the crook of her elbow as she turns to look for a place to consume the foodstuffs.

[Her view seems to be blocked by a large pair of overalls, however, and she glances up with a tolerant half-grin as Ralph greets her cheerfully.]

The ne'er-do-wells are always scuttling, Wreck-It, but I figure even villains have to eat. I just have to hope our lunch schedules are synchronized. [Nothing sucks more than having your lunch break interrupted by hooligans, after all. She sort of jerks her chin to silently invite him to walk with her as she heads for a low brick wall nearby, hoping to sit and grab a bite or two of that sandwich.] Keeping your nose mostly clean? I haven't been called about any buildings falling down, so that's good, at least.

He sticks out like a sore thumb, she thinks to herself as the man moves past her with purpose in his stride. She sort of likes that about him, honestly; he obviously stands apart from the crowd and seems completely unabashed about it, and that's always something she can appreciate. Actually, she's pretty certain she's seen him around the station house on occasion--one of the constables, if she isn't mistaken--though they'd never been formally introduced.

Hm. She finds herself wondering now if the backstory she'd automatically started dreaming up (about his having come from a heavily stratified country under martial law, where his razor-sharp blade and steely gaze were the only means of keeping the rebelling lower class from a full-on uprising) is more or less plausible now that she recognizes him. Well, the only way to find out is to strike up a conversation, right? It's funny; since being thrust into this war and taking up the mantle of looking after this city filled with strangers, Tamora had actually made a conscious effort to make eye contact once in a while, and even talk to people sometimes. She'd never supposed she needed to 'come out of her shell' so much as 'find a reason to give a rat's behind', but whatever it was, maybe she'd succeeded a little bit.

Catching the stern-looking man's eye, she gives him a curious, if benign look.

"Morning," she says. "Think I've seen you at reveille once or twice, haven't I?"

Well, she still has a bit of work to do on that whole breaking the ice thing.

She gives a brief start at the sound of a voice alongside her, but it really comes as no surprise to see Sonic keeping pace with her as she zips along the streets. He's probably one of the few people around town who can keep up when she really gets going. She shifts her weight a bit as he hitches a ride, standing behind her and easily keeping his balance.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure her unexpected passenger seems settled enough, she turns her attention forward again and grins a bit.

"You didn't ask," she replies cheekily, turning a corner and slowing down a bit as she passes an alley, making sure nothing shady is going on therein. Picking up speed again and headed for the edge of town (she always makes sure to patrol the outskirts near the ruins well, ever since those hooligans from a few weeks ago had vandalized them), she addresses Sonic without looking at him, her eyes on the road in front of them. "It's a fairly standard-issue cruiser," she explains; "a lot of the off-earth missions are equipped with them. They make it easier to traverse uneven or dangerous terrain on other planets."

She arches one eyebrow, then leans to one side, then the other, to look behind him. Of course no one is there. Resting her chin on one fist, she gestures at the seat across from her with a downward flick of her eyes, silently inviting him to sit.

"Of course," she says. "Wanna keep me company while you wait for your friend to show up?"

You're definitely gonna have to try a little harder than that to get off the hook, Riku.

... right.

Riku sighed, running a hand through his hair slowly. "Fine, there's no friend," he muttered as he dejectedly took a seat, looking everywhere but her for a few seconds.

He tried to take a sip of the coffee, but made a face as soon as he swallowed, setting it down and pushing it away. Riku usually looked like he'd lost a good two or so hours of sleep, but this was bordering on four. He pulled on his scarf, putting it tighter around his neck as he just sighed, not sure what to do or what to say.

Blaine tried to keep himself busy because he knew that when he got bored he started to do... questionable things. He was the epitome of the warning against idle hands, which was why it was somewhat unfortunate that his hands were indeed idle. Walking down a back alley on his way from one main street to another, he contemplated what he could do to alleviate his boredom. There were always more people to meet and bars to hop or hookers to see and friends to tease, but none of that was anything new and no one was around him now. At least not that he knew of.

Looking up, he idly counted the floors up the fire escape as he moved towards the end of the ally. He paused, hands in his pockets. Hmmmmm. Could he make that jump and grab the bottom of the fire escape? He bet he could, but there was only one way to find out... He backed up, hands slipping out of his pockets as he looked behind him to avoid tripping and clear his path. Then he faced forward and gauged his distance.

He rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles in preparation before he started to run forward until he was sprinting. He only changed his tempo slightly before he jumped to get the perfect distance away. Or so he hoped. He sailed up, fingertips extended, trying to reach the bottom of the platform, but would he make it?

"Remind me ta get a hold of some Extreme Gear and race ya sometime!" He calls behind her, leaning with her as she zips around and through the ruins.

During the wait for his drink, Kratos opts to take a quick glance around the establishment. Maybe a familiar face or two might be spotted. Also, maybe he'd figure out whether the feeling of eyes on him is warranted or just an imagination going haywire. Some patrons were sitting around drinking together, another is in the midst of reading something and yet another happens to be staring at him. Bingo.

A curious eyebrow gets raised at this woman. Hmm, wait, it isn't a random individual, either. If memory serves, she's one of the higher ups in the police force. A superior, one versed in military jargon, at that.

"Good morning." The coffee girl calls out that his coffee is ready. He turns around to take it, uttering a soft thank you, before turning all attention back at Tamora. "And you more than likely have." Especially seeing as he's up and training (or training Lloyd) as soon as the Hold opens most days.

Looking up at the familiar voice and scent, Kang snorted and nodded, "I'm never going to be able to 'type' on these damn things. My claws keep getting in the way."

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Page 1 of 4

Calling all cops and autobots

late afternoon/early evening of the 28th?

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[mid afternoon, 28th]

late afternoon, march 1

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March 5, early afternoon, marketplace/square

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March 2nd, late morning

[Afternoon, 28th]

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March 2nd, Early Evening, Aw yeah bad decisions

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