accountnameinuse: (Default)
accountnameinuse ([personal profile] accountnameinuse) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2014-03-22 09:04 am



1. Post as your character, listing any preferences you'd like respected.
2. The rescuer replies. They can select the scenario, or they can leave it to you to do it.
3. Whoever's doing the picking hits up the Random Number Generator for two numbers: one between 1 and 8, representing who the first character is being rescued from, and one between 1 and 5, representing the reason for the rescue.
4. Alternately, make up your own scenario if you want.
5. Play it out! You can play out the rescue itself if you want, or just the aftermath--or both.
6. Make sure you take note of any preferences a player might have and warn for triggers in the subject line if they crop up.
7. Have fun and make sure you swoon properly!

1] Their greatest enemy. For whatever the reason, the character's greatest enemy has finally made a move and taken them captive. Who knows what they plan to do to the poor character? Good thing you've come to save them.
2] Your greatest enemy. Your own enemy has decided to make a move against you--but not directly. They've taken this character hostage instead. Show them who's boss and rescue the victim!
3] Natural disaster. Come hell or high water, you'll save the character...and, in fact, it has come hell (in the form of fire, maybe) or high water (perhaps a flood?). Or something like that. Whatever. The point is, nature itself has it out for the character, and it's up to you to save them.
4] Wild animals. Stephen Colbert was right: bears are the number one threat. Or maybe lions. Make sure the character doesn't become dinner.
5] Supernatural forces. Actually, it's dragons. Or evil wizards. Or demons. Take your pick, just so long as you rescue the character from them.
6] Pirates. Just what the pirates intend to do with this character might be a mystery--could be they'll walk the plank, or worse. Time to pluck them from the hook-hands of danger.
7] Vice. The character has sunken into dissolution, perhaps out of despair or maybe from sheer uncontrollable self-indulgence. You're the only one who can step in and give them a new lease on life.
8] Their own bad judgement. The character is committed to a truly terrible course of action. Fortunately, you're here to make them see way or another.

1] Love. The fairy tales have it right. It's true love that spurs the knight to rescue his fair maiden...or vice versa.
2] Friendship. It's not always about kisses and ravishing, you know. Sometimes, you've just gotta look out for friends and family, no matter what sticky situations they get themselves into.
3] Rivalry. Only you're allowed to dish it out to the character! Better make sure no one else gets in your way.
4] Debt. The character owes you, in one way or another. They don't think they can get off easy, do they?
5] Money. Plain and simple: you were hired for the task. It's nothing personal, just business.

originally from [community profile] memebells
image from the Phineas & Ferb wikia
yourmove: (008)

Alex Murphy || RoboCop (2014)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-22 09:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Prose preferred - would like (robotic) Alex to be saved]
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556601)

<strike>Natural</strike> disaster rescue for money!

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-03-22 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[Is a superhero to the rescue OK?]

Cos frowned at the cordoned-off wreckage in front of him, only half-listening to the OmniCporp representative briefing him. Someone had set off an explosive in one of their facilities earlier in the day and the fires were just now being brought under control. There had apparently been enough warning to initiate an evacutation so it was currently uncertain if anyone had been caught inside. But there had been some valuable asset they hadn't gotten out in time. The specifics of that 'asset' were suspiciously vague as was any details on what this facility had been for exactly.

But the company was willing to pay for retrieval of their 'asset' and he was in the unfortunate position of needing money badly enough to ignore the sense he was getting less than half the story here. With his natural magnetic abilities passed off as cutting-edge experimental technology he'd convinced them that he could go inside and stabilise what remained of the building enough to retrieve their property. He was less than happy about the confidentiality agreement they wanted him to sign but he really didn't have the luxury of arguing.

With the beuracracy out of the way at last, Rokk made his way carefully through the still-smoking ruins. Following the indications of the locator he'd been provided with, he kept his flight ring engaged just enough to minimise his weight on the potentially unstable surface, alert for any signs of survivors.
yourmove: (043)

Very okay!

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-23 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
It wasn't looking good. The rubble shifted every now and then, smoke and ash still blanketing everything that would've made it look deceptively like snow if it wasn't for the fact that inhaling it would be a bad idea. Most of the employees had evacuated. A few hadn't, had already been written off, their families notified with expensive flowers and a Raymond Sellar's personal promise to cover all funeral expenses.

The asset, however, was still alive. At least by the RC-2000 program's idea of alive - when you consisted literally of a head, lungs and a partial spine, it was a decidedly shaky idea of "alive", and a lowered level of dopamine meant Alex Murphy wasn't panicking about being pinned underneath the rubble. Instead he'd gone into a sort of stasis, a low-power state designed to keep his life support running until he was able to move again. The scanner OmniCorp had supplied Rokk with blipped after a few minutes, becoming more insistent the deeper he worked his way into the facility’s ruins, reading what might, just might, be a heat signature. It flipped-flopped between organic and in-organic readings, apparently unable to make up its mind. (The scanner, by the way, was registered, in case freelancers like Rokk get any funny ideas about running off with company equipment).

The collapsed ceiling opened up at one point for Rokk, showing emergency stairs. The door at the bottom should’ve been locked with a security access point, but the lock was broken, the door itself swinging wide to a hallway that could have been modern steel and glass paneling if it hadn’t been scarred with smoke.

Alex was just past the hall way, still pinned where a good chunk of the lab’s ceiling caved on his cradle. He was lying face down, a humanoid figure in tactical-black armor, his arms and legs in all the right places for a person. The scanner in Rokk’s hand was beeping away madly now.

He’d found OmniCorp’s asset. All 2.6 billion dollars worth.
rokkofthelegion: (pic#)


[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-03-23 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
The scanner's odd behaviour had had him half-convinced he'd been given a defective piece of equipment - surely even the technology available here should be able to reliably diferentiate between organics and non-organics - but with nothing else to rely on he'd been forced to follow the signal deep into the ruined building.

Shouldering through the door he'd been led to, Cos scanned the lab carefully before advancing too far inside. It looked like things were stable enough for now but he didn't want to be down here any longer than he had to be. With that in mind he turned his attention to scanner noisily demanding his attention, glancing between it and the humanoid shape that had resolved itself among the rubble. Switching the machine off and jamming it in a pocket he strode over to the thing and crouched down to get a closer look.

"A techsuit? Really? That's it?" Although- leaning in to examine the shape closer, he frowned at the human face visible atop the mechanical neck. "Or a robot?" An enquring pulse with his EM-field provided some confirmation of what the scanner had suggested - predomintely, but not exclusively, technological. Probably just some kind of organic product then to better mimic a human face. Snorting, he rapped his knuckles against the back of the thing's head. "Because giving you a face is all it takes to make sure people won't be uncomfortable around you, right?"
yourmove: (050)

Re: Awesome!

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-23 07:54 am (UTC)(link)
The knuckles tapping against the back of Alex's visor brought almost immediate results: Alex didn't shiver or start so much as emit a low level hum, the kind you could feel through your teeth. The high-impact glass covering part of his face suddenly went red, the light narrowing to a beam where the eyes should be. It wasn't the same as having a direct point of reference, eye-wise, for a human, but it was the next best thing at this point. That visor, by the way, was the only reason his brains weren't splattered all over the floor.

His optic feed went online, Alex's eyes fluttering behind the visor as he emerged from the stasis and began running diagnostics. View of the floor, scuffed and chipped and rendered "unacceptable" according to OmniCorp standards. Audio feed told him there was someone in the room, breathing. Talking. - to make sure people won't be uncomfortable around you, right? replayed back.

For a guy who would've had his spine crushed, if he had a proper spine these days, Alex was taking it far too well: no panic, no struggling, no moaning. With a creak of tortured servos, his head shifted to the side, more of a mechanical rotation than anything else. The mouth that moved underneath the visor looked life-like, even this close. You couldn’t even tell he’d been flash-fried by a car bomb only a few months ago.

"The face is original," Alex said, because clearly that was the first thing you said to your rescuer. “I require your assistance – ”

He paused, running a quick, cursory scan of various databases to match a name to the face peering down.

“ - Rokk.” He accepted the registration of that scanner, filed away clearance and confidentiality agreement with a signature, all neatly scanned in by a pretty secretary somewhere. This man was the equivalent of a Red Asset. Alex would do his best to comply. “I’m unable to stand up. Stabilizers may be damaged.”

Studying Rokk, he wasn’t entirely sure if he was in good hands. He looked…human. No cyborg prosthetics to help with that chunk of ceiling, no visible tools, no exo-suit.

Alex lowered his probability of rescue today.
Edited 2014-03-23 07:56 (UTC)
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556597)

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-03-23 09:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah-" Cos jerked his hand back quickly as the thing came online. "Great. You're active." Hopefully that would make his job easier but it certainly didn't make him more comfortable. There was something off-putting about that human face virtually alone in amongst all that tech. But it did indicate the thing was functional and hopefully not too badly damaged - he had a distinct sense that any damage to Omnicorp's property would be taken out of his paycheck and unfortunately he needed every cred- dollar of it.

"No kidding. That is what I'm here for." He didn't know what it meant by it's face being 'original' - unless, rather than a synthetic as he'd assumed, it was some kind of post-mortem graft which just seemed... morbid. And a lot of effort to make something seem relatable when the rest of it was built like a tank. But it wasn't the most important thing right now - he could always follow it up later, along with asking how it knew his name. First things first though, he had a job to do.

"You're pinned down. I can move the rubble but I can't guarantee that won't bring more of the ceiling down so we need to move quickly. Can you run a diagnostic and tell me if you'll be able to get yourself clear once you're free?" If he had to drag it out and hold up the wreckage it was going to make things a bit more complicated - not insurmountable but it would be a lot easier if the thing could move itself.

As he waited for a report on its condition Rokk began probing the wreckage pinning the asset down, hand hovering over the debris as he felt for any metal he could act on to shift it. He just hoped its circuits were shielded from EM-fluctuations - depending on how hard it was going to be to shift this mess he could end up generating a stronger burst than he'd like. "I have no idea why they're in such a hurry to get you out of here, valuable or not surely waiting for crews to come in wouldn't damage you." Certainly the company's urgency worked in his favour but it still didn't make a lot of sense to him.
yourmove: (047)

They should totally get trapped/have a fire or something in there >:3a

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-24 08:26 am (UTC)(link)
Active, yes. Alex was active, his mind alert and capable of appreciating the fact he couldn’t feel much of anything, emotional state-wise. Panicking wouldn’t have been productive. This was…easier.

How Mr. Rokk planned to move the rubble was beyond him – at least going by those cursory scans – and Alex was still following the model saying he’d probably be stuck here a few more days until they sent someone with an exo-suit, at least. Also a death wish. The death wish part was important. Because the fact was Rokk was right about the questionable stability, that he’d recorded multiple instances of the ceiling creaking, what was left of the building groaning, as if at any second the rest of it could collapse on top of them. Alex retreated into his head for a second, his HUD lighting up as he scanned for damage. Most of his right side was intact but the left – damage to the back thigh platting and stabilizer. He wouldn’t be able to walk without limping. Running would add stress to the leg, resulting in an eventual lubricant line tear that would render that side non-functional.

“I should be able to drag myself clear,” Alex remarked, his face tilting up a few centimeters so he could center Rokk’s face in his HUD. The biometric readings he received from Rokk were strange enough that he wondered if there was additional damage he wasn’t aware of. These couldn’t be right. “They’re worried the life support systems might fail. The probability rises the longer they take.”

Hence: Mr. Rokk’s presence. As unorthodox as it was. And the readings (errors?) he received even now, something seeming to gently fluctuate off Rokk as he ran a hand a few inches over concrete and rebar.

Alex’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners, like he wanted to frown. His arm screeched as he got the right one under him, then the left, the flesh hand bruised but still intact, fingers splaying out for support.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Alex asked, and from another man it might’ve been laced with sarcasm. From Alex, it was almost bored sounding, as if he wasn’t too worried about the idea of being crushed to death because OmniCorp sent in one man to do a team’s job.
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556594)

So up for either! Maybe the ceiling coming down on their heads once Alex is free?

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-03-24 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Cos nodded in acknowledgement of it's self-assessment. That was good, one less problem to deal with, a definite relief considering the job in front of him - and the nagging sense that something else was somehow off here. "What life support? We're not far enough underground to need that." It was admittedly foolish to talk to the machine any more than was necessary he knew, but talking helped keep his mind off the fact he was essentially alone in an unstable structure with no real backup if he ran into trouble. Dying on an unfamiliar world decades before he'd even been born was not exactly high on his list of 'things to try'.

The pained screech of metal as the 'bot shifted so it was ready to move, was met with a wince and a frown as Rokk said, "You just be ready to move, don't worry about what I can or can't handle."

Now he was getting grief from it too? Actually, the questioning of his capabilities helped finally resolve what was nagging him about the thing - the machine didn't respond like the basic, simplistically programmed units he'd seen in the occasional reports from combat zones. In fact, it almost seemed... self-aware. His sense of unease increased at that thought. This wasn't the United Planets, this world didn't have the same history so there was no reason for A.I. to be outlawed, nothing to prevent it's development. And no guarantee that were any such intelligence developed it would go the same world-conquering route. But that didn't exactly make him feel happier about the idea.

Focus, he mentally chastised himself. Just do the job, this world isn't your concern.

Taking a calming breath he extended his field into the pile of rubble, gripping the metal within. There was enough to allow him to - slowly, carefully - begin to raise the whole mess up off the back of the unit. He just hoped the groaning coming from the shattered building around them was simply things settling and not a warning he was failing to heed.
yourmove: (040)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-26 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
“My life support,” Alex said mildly. From his tone of voice, they might as well be talking about which gun he preferred. “Understood.”

He was as ready as humanly possible. The line of questioning indicated Mr. Rokk hadn’t been briefed as thoroughly as he should, leaving Alex to wonder what else he was in the dark about: he appeared to believe he was a drone who happened to look human, which, to be honest, would have made this easier. A drone didn’t need to worry about eventually starving to death or shutting down from oxygen deprivation, all very real threats when you were a cyborg. Alex might be incapable of “fear of dying” or even “fear of tight, ash-choked spaces just like this one”, but he did have a certain level of self-preservation, made logical because a functioning cop could better serve the public trust than a scrapped one.

Facing forward, Alex felt more than saw the rubble starting to lift off. His HUD was trying to get a read on some sort of increased fluctuation from Rokk’s direction, the edge of his visor riddled with static. Whatever it was, it wasn’t quite…agreeing with Alex. If this was OmniCorp tech, it was so new he couldn’t recognize it.

Smaller chunks of debris tumbled onto his back as he worked his way forward inches at a time, servos protesting both from the damage and from whatever it was Rokk was doing. His foot dragged behind him as he crawled forward, the movements more robotic and jerky than they normally would be.

“I’m free,” Alex staggered to his feet, listing heavily to the side on his damaged leg. His head swung toward Rokk to study him, his mouth pressed into that thin, neutral line. “Thank you for your assistance – ”

And that was when the rest of the ceiling decided it was a fantastic time to collapse.

Something shifted over Rokk’s head (unprotected, because for some reason OmnniCorp didn’t see fit to outfit him with a helmet). Dust trickled down. The groan transformed into a screech and then a roar as a giant crack appeared in the ceiling. Alex reacted, lunging for Rokk.
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556603)

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-03-27 09:51 am (UTC)(link)
Cos had just begun to lower the pile he was holding, to turn to get a better a look at exactly what it was he'd been sent to retrieve when the world - or at least the portion he currently occupied - decided to come crashing down around him. Faced with being crushed under falling debris it was hard to say if the... unit that was the reason he was down there throwing itself at him was better or worse. The thing was far from light. Or soft. It did however prevent him losing his head - literally - and give him just barely enough time to throw up a force-shield to help deflect the worst of the falling masonry - although maybe he would've been better not to as that had the added side-effect of directing the mass of concrete and steel right towards the exit.

Gradually the noise died down as the rubble settled into place - for now at least though it was anyone's guess how stable it was this time. It was possible anything could set off another cave-in which was why Rokk was doing his best to choke on the dust filling the air as quietly as possible. Not an easy task, though somewhat assisted by the heavy weight making breathing even more difficult.

"Grife," he wheezed quietly, "That was not part of the plan."
yourmove: (043)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-28 08:37 am (UTC)(link)
Somehow he didn't think so either.

"Air will be limited,” Alex remarked, almost conversationally. “Waiting for a team to rescue us – ” Anyone else and that us instead of you might have been tact, “ – might not be possible. Time isn’t on our side.”

He might’ve sounded more worried if he wasn’t coasting on a wave of lowered dopamine, what was visible of his face looking serene at this point. Alex did at least give Rokk a break, shifting to the side and then standing up before he crushed him with all that graphene, his actuators protesting with the motion. His visor scrapped against what was left of the ceiling, forcing Alex to hunch over. Thanks to that new cave-in, his armor was coated in a fresh layer of dust, looking more gray now than that stealth-bomber black. Scanning Rokk, he determined he was functional, with good vitals that pulsed blue. Arms and legs accounted for, eye dilation looking good, except:

“You’re bleeding, Mr. Rokk.”

Head wound. Left side. Beginnings of a bloody nose. Must have hit his head on the way down. Minor, from what he can establish – “minor” to Alex meaning wasn’t life-threatening. Anything less than that wasn't highlighted by his AI as a priority.
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556603)

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-03-28 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
That would explain why his head was still throbbing even now that he could breathe properly again. Sitting up carefully Rokk cautiously probed the source of the stabbing pain, wincing as it ramped up a notch in response. But it didn't seem too bad, as far as he could tell. Wiping the blood out of his eye, Cos pushed himself up into a crouch and slowly straightened as far as he could without banging his head on their new ceiling. The world swam before his eyes if he moved too fast but otherwise he could still function.

"I've had worse. I'll manage." He didn't have a great deal of choice really - even ignoring the fact they were stuck for the moment he certainly couldn't risk going to a hospital - all it would take would be for someone to look too closely and his cover would be blown completely.

Considering the now much smaller space around them he turned to the.... other entity. "The way I see it there's only a couple of options. I can shift the rubble again to force a way out but it could - likely will - bring down another cave-in and I can't make a shield at the same time as I'm moving things. So I'd need you to provide some protection and we'd both need to be able to move quickly to avoid being completely crushed."

That last part in particular seemed highly unlikely - with the sickening sway he felt with any sudden movement and the sounds his companion made just standing up he doubted they were going to be winning any races.

"Alternatively, if you're not too badly damaged we can try physically digging our way out. I should be able to shield us from further cave-ins while doing so until we get somewhere more stable."

Cos disliked having to draw so much attention to his powers - he might have a cover story but it worked better if it wasn't too closely scrutinised. Unfortunately he didn't see any other options left to him. Besides, in the absolute worse case scenario he was fairly confident he could generate a strong enough EMP to knock whatever-it-was in front of him on its ass long enough to disappear. Assuming, that was, that it didn't choose option three - decide that it could fare better down here on its own and try to eliminate him as a concern.
Edited 2014-03-28 22:21 (UTC)
yourmove: (073)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-03-31 02:15 am (UTC)(link)
Alex assumed Mr. Rokk would manage – the options down here basically boiled down to manage or die. Tended to simplify things. Alex listened to his rescuer with polite disinterest, his face still in that neutral expression as if they weren’t hours away from asphyxiating together.

“The second plan is more viable,” Alex said. He held up his graphene hand, flexing the armored fingers to show they were better suited to digging through rubble than his other one. “Damaged parts can be replaced once you’ve delivered me to Dr. Norton. You should focus on the shield, Mr. Rokk.”

He was – admittedly –curious about Rokk’s strange, potentially classified abilities. Different division of OmniCorp? Mercenary? Contractor? He didn’t seem to display any obvious prosthesis and while OmniCorp had other tech developments in the pipeline, he’d assumed those were things like new ammo, new rifles. Better drones. Not a personal electromagnetic field. Could be a safety precaution, he reasoned, for handlers. Drones didn’t malfunction, but – and it was remembering that “but” that was important – but if they did, this could be a way to take them out and saving the chassis instead of blowing them to bits. Cheaper that way. Alex filed that away as he finally turned his visor from Rokk’s face.

“Let’s start.” Alex moved to start digging through the rubble. With one graphene hand and a that was, for all intents and purposes, human, he was going to be slower at this than a drone, less efficient. Harder to repair a flesh hand than a purely robotic one. “Will that EM field of yours offline my life support systems?”

It was almost an academic question at this point: if they didn’t get out of here, it didn’t matter how his life support went down. The end result was dying alone down here, unable to carry out his duties. Alex thought it was safe to assume Mr. Rokk didn’t want to die down here either. It was a point they could both agree on, man and cyborg.
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556601)

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-04-01 08:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Alright then." Swiping blood from his face again, Rokk frowned in concentration. It took longer than normal but after a moment the force-shield rippled to life around them. Visible to the eyes only by the dust and debris bouncing off of it periodically, it nevertheless was holding without too much effort. For the moment. Cos just hoped he wouldn't need to find out if he was up to deflecting the entire ceiling.

"I don't think it should interfere with your systems. The magnitude should be low enough not to knock anything out. Unless something big comes at us and I need to increase the power." He was admittedly guessing in his assessment - without any knowledge of the systems in question he really couldn't judge. But what other choice was there?

The question did remind him of his earlier uncertainty regarding this 'asset' and being as there was little he could do to help with the physical work - unless there was any rubble too heavy for the other to lift he'd rather keep his eyes on their surroundings so he could be ready if another cave-in started - there was no reason not to ask. Besides, talking kept his mind off of the mass of building waiting to come down and crush them both if he wasn't careful.

"So tell me - just what are you? A robot doesn't require life support and you're apparently quite valuable. So exactly what are you supposed to be?"
yourmove: (047)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-03 09:56 am (UTC)(link)
The force shield going up felt a lot like someone tickling the back of his throat and drying out his mouth, his HUD fuzzing with static at intervals. Alex unconsciously licked his lips, trying to work some moisture back. Rubble shifted, the walls groaning. Alex hesitated at the questions, then resumed digging, his back to Rokk.

“Crime prevention prototype cyborg. I was, ” he corrected himself after another pause, “am a Detective with the Detroit Police Department.”

Which in Alex’s mind was explanation enough. He was valuable mainly because he was the first, because there had been so little of his original body to work off of from what he understood. They were still working out the kinks. Maybe the next cyborg would have better shielding from EM fields.

Alex lifted a chunk of concrete, stooped and peered through the widening hole. Rebar, twisted and warped. Building schematics said there should be a room on the other side but he was also concerned about the piping being damaged. Gas lines that could be compromised. “Does that conflict with anything?”

From what he understood, putting organics into a machine was controversial. It seemed to spook certain individuals and acceptance hadn’t gained widespread attraction.
rokkofthelegion: (surprise)

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-04-07 11:07 am (UTC)(link)
"You're human?"

That particular bombshell was surprising enough his field wavered momentarily before he forced himself to focus again. Watching the asset- the person in front of him, Rokk mulled over the idea. It wasn't completely outrageous - the technology here certainly wasn't up to being able to regenerate body parts from the individual's own tissues like he was used to and he'd seen the odd person with a cybernetic limb on the streets before.

But limbs were one thing. What seemed like almost an entire body? That was another. If there was so little of him left after whatever must have happened to require such drastic alteration, how had he even survived long enough for the procedure? Although that was hardly the biggest question on Rokk's mind.

"It's.... not exactly what I was expecting. You don't much act like it."

An understatement - it's- his behaviour wouldn't be at all out of place coming from a mech.
yourmove: (073)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-08 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
The field wavering brought another low groan from the ceiling above, Alex pausing as his visor tilted up, unworried. A trickle of dust drifted down to coat the glass as the groaning finally settled again.

“I’ve been given neurosuppression,” Alex would’ve shrugged if he wasn’t busy moving rubble. “It’s beneficial in situations like this.”

In other words, he didn’t seem to mind being stuck underground with a total stranger in what could be the last few days (possibly hours) of his life. He’d rather not, of course, but if they were crushed to death or asphyxiated, then that was that. Logic said they shouldn’t be talking and that they should conserve what limited air supply they had down here. But there was a part of Alex that wanted to keep talking anyway, no matter what logic said. Maybe his neurosuppression was slipping.

“You should ask for it, Mr. Rokk,” he added, in what might be the clumsiest attempt at maintaining a conversation. Another piece of rubble down. “After this.”
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556599)

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-04-08 09:47 am (UTC)(link)
"Ask for wha- To have myself neurosupressed too?"

What. The. Sprock.

"You've got to be kidding me." Funnily enough, his voice is flat enough one might almost think he'd taken the suggestion. "You might not want to feel anything but I prefer to keep my emotions intact thanks."

He was assuming that was what neurosupression entailed anyway, but who knew if it wasn't some elaborate form of 21st century brainwashing as well?

"Grife! Why would you choose something like that? It's-" his lip curls in distain, "Cowardly. And certainly not a good idea in someone who's supposed to stand for justice."

Scowling now Rokk leaned in to get a better view of their escape route. The groaning from the ceiling was not making him want to stay here longer than they had to and his head had cleared slightly - enough that he figured he could maybe try and help with the digging. And the upside was if it turned out he overreached himself and threw up or passed out on the other man it wouldn't actually be found offensive.
yourmove: (030)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-09 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
There had been a higher probability Rokk would refuse the offer than accept, Alex glancing at him with the visor’s blank face. “I didn’t choose it. But it saved my life and it means I’m incapable of secondary emotions that can compromise investigations and arrests.”

And compromise things like trying to dig the two of them out of here. There was also the fact neurosuppression made him a terrible father who hadn’t bothered to visit his wife and son in weeks: Alex viewed that as a necessary compromise. Cleaning up Detroit versus one law-abiding citizen and one minor. It hadn’t been a hard decision to make. Maybe Mr. Rokk here would think differently, although Alex was of the opinion that they should agree to disagree and focus on the immediate concern at hand. Trying not to get crushed to death. Alex shifted over another piece, oblivious to the skin rubbed raw on his right hand, his graphene one scuffing against rubble and rebar.

“Gas line,” Alex said, noticing Rokk peering into the widening hole. It was large enough for a man to crawl though: Rokk should be fine. Alex, on the other hand, might find it a tight fit. To put it lightly. He pointed at the exposed gas line. “Could be a problem,” he added mildly.

As Rokk displayed every indicator that he very much wanted to live, he assumed that gas line was something he’d take seriously. Differing opinions on neurosuppression aside.
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556597)

So fire to the face?

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-04-09 09:16 am (UTC)(link)
"Sprocking combustion based- Brilliant. Let's hope it's not cracked further down the line."

He considered the gap in the rubble and the space visible on the other side. Hard to see much of the room from here but it had to be more stable than their current location, didn't it? It wasn't like they had another choice even if it wasn't. The gas pipe (Gas. Combustible gases dug up and piped around for fuel of all things - he'd almost forgotten this was the dark ages.) would just have to keep.

"With any luck it won't take much more to get this wide enough to get through without rupturing the pipe." Cos considered the other man's bulky artificial body and less than graceful movements and added, "But make sure you watch where you're stepping."

While he'd love to argue the idea that emotional investment compromised a law-enforcement officer's ability to do their job this really was not the time. Once they were both safely out or at least out of danger he could pursue the topic. For now he'd rather not have to find out if the hospitals here could deal with Braalian physiology or if he'd get to taste this neurosupression after all. Although-

"I didn't ask your name." Because if he was going to risk being buried alive with someone he should at least know what to call them.
Edited 2014-04-09 09:27 (UTC)
yourmove: (097)

works for me!

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-13 07:49 am (UTC)(link)
"Hoping won't make a difference," Alex chimed in. "Neither will luck."

Alex clearly wasn't the half-glass full kind of cyborg.

He could see that Mr. Rokk was sizing him up, trying to mentally picture his chassis squeezing in through the hole and seeing there would be some issues. Not all of them size-related, either, as Alex was well aware his coordination wasn't exactly at optimal levels right now. Couldn't be helped. Months ago he probably would've bristled at being told to watch where he was going by some kid, like he didn't have two working eyes here too. He took it in a stride now, visor shifting to the side as he glanced at the hole and the gas line and then back at his rescuer, who seemed to want a name after all. Alex debated holding his hand out, decided against it.

“Murphy,” Alex paused, then seemed to change his mind on impersonal last names. He suspected his neurosuppression must be slipping. “Alex.”

He turned his attention back to the hole. The gas line was in the way and with the way the rubble was constantly shifting, there was a risk the pipe would be damaged – possibly even when they were trying to get through that gap he’d tried to widen as best he could. Alex’s armor could absorb some of it…and he had to wonder how limited those personal shields of Rokk’s were, too. Given that their options were wait for help or die in here waiting for help, he supposed being flash-fried might be considered merciful. It would be fast, at least.

"Do you want me to go first or do you want to do it?"
rokkofthelegion: (pic#7556603)

Re: works for me!

[personal profile] rokkofthelegion 2014-04-15 08:42 am (UTC)(link)
It might make more sense for Rokk to go first - he was the smaller of the them and less likely to crush the pipe underfoot or bring their escape route crashing down on top of him but it just didn't sit well with him, taking care of himself potentially at the expense of another. It wouldn've been easier if he hadn't gotten the man's name - he could've let himself think he was dealing with a highly advanced computer, something that could just be repaired if damaged. Now though there was a name, a human behind that impersonal black visor, someone it seemed who'd already been irreparably damaged and no matter what this Alex might act like Rokk couldn't forget that.

"You go first," he commanded the other man. "But be careful. I'll see what I can do to stabilise things so they don't come down on your head."

He shifted so he could rest his hands on the rubble, extending his protective field through the hole as much as possible. It was an effort to maintain, sweat beading his face almost immediately and he had to fight not to sway on his feet. If he kept it up for too long he might just pass out and if that happened his chances of getting out of here alive were pretty much non-existent. There was no way the- Alex - would be able to get them both out in one piece on his own.

It was this thought alone that kept Cos where he was, all his efforts going into shielding them both from the increasingly unstable structure around them. He couldn't say where the spark came from - his companion, a shifting steel support or something else entirely. All he knew was the sudden blast of heat as the ruptured gas pipes contents ignited.
yourmove: (059)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-04-18 06:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank you for your assistance," Alex said, whose voice couldn't quite manage gratitude with the neurosuppression. He might as well be thanking him for reporting a

He got down on his hands and knees, a servo protesting as he crouched, and began to edge his way in. It was a tight fit even if he hadn't had the armor and with it, he could hear parts of it scratching along the rubble: a shoulder plate, the top of his visor screeching, Alex aware of Mr. Rokk behind him. The field gave that odd, phantom feeling of hairs rising along the back of arms he didn't have anymore.

The spark came fast, so fast that even Alex's processors couldn't keep up with it - he had a split second to react, something bright and white hot coming his way, and with the rubble trapping him in here, he couldn't get under cover. Alex did the only thing he could do in a tunnel with a Red Asset behind him: he threw up his arm to cover his face, trying to square his graphene body to provide the most cover possible to Rokk a few feet away.