legionworld | [OPEN] Getting to grips

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Getting to grips

Who| Rico Dredd, and anyone!
What| Rico's getting adjusted. Discovering sugar and telling people to move out of his way.
Where| Mess Hall, Observation Deck
When| Before Bodies for Rent
Warnings/Notes| Rico's an asshole. Warning for violence, fighting, blood, threats of bodily harm, and treating sugar like an addictive substance (i.e. drug talk). Will match formats.

[A: Mess Hall]

[It had taken a long time for Rico to get adjusted to his new surroundings. After the expected violent outburst after waking up, he was upset. Not because he was just faced with the knowledge that his entire universe was in danger, that Mega-City One was in danger. No. It was more that he was yanked out of his world by the scruff of his neck, and had a lot of schemes he'd spent time and effort setting up. A lot of fingers in a lot of different pies whose outcomes he was just waiting to realize.]

[But Hell, the only saving grace is that at least he might just get a kick out of all this. So he took the oath, if only for them to get off his back about it. Time would tell whether he felt like following it or not. But for now? The Mess Hall would be where he could get a feel for the social dynamics that run through this place. And he'll be damned if Rico Dredd never comes out on top. And he's hardly going to let a little thing like being dropped into a completely unfamiliar environment alone and without backup hold him back.]

[He strides into the mess hall with a natural arrogance, a swagger to his step that could be mistaken for confidence. Of course, with how packed it is, and how he isn't making any attempt to move out of anybody's way - fully expecting them to move for him - somebody might accidentally jostle him and his rather bulky and pointy eagle-shaped shoulder pad. If that happens?]

Hey!

[He barks out sharply in a gravel rough voice, in a tone that demands immediate attention. He cocks his head to the side, overhead lighting reflecting a glint off his black visor where his eyes should be. He crooks a finger, beckoning them to come closer as his mouth twitches up in the beginnings of a smile.]

You gonna apologize for that?

[B: Mess Hall]

[Rico is sitting at a table with his back to the wall, with a baton kept loosely in his lap, staring at an unopened packet of sugar in the palm of his hand. He knew that The Legion had different practices, different laws but this was really something else. He tears the packet open with delicately pinched fingers, spilling the white crystals onto the table, and sniffs. He takes off a glove, dips his finger in the pile, brings it up to his face for careful scrutiny, then licks it.]

Oh, what the drokk? [He murmurs under his breath as he pulls back, confusion and tentative excitement mixing in his voice.] They can't be serious.

[He starts picking up more packets, one by one, and ripping them all open. Soon, there's a veritable pile of sugar on the table. But if someone were to come a little later and perhaps want a sugar for their coffee or tea this morning...? Well too bad. It's all been confiscated. If you reach out for one, expect to be impeded by a black baton.]

Sorry. [He doesn't sound very sorry at all. Actually, he almost sounds a little gleeful. He's well aware he has very little authority here, but that's not going to stop him from pretending that he does. Also, he might have slipped a packet or two into his own pockets.] Restricted substances. Mind your own business and move along.

[C: Observation Deck]

[The Observation Deck. Rico leans forward against a railing, looking down at the view. It's mostly empty for now, and he enjoys the rare peace. No shouting citizens, no endless, pointless chatter, or explosions. He's been a Mega-City boy all his life, never been to space, and despite his best efforts not to be impressed, it still captures his attention like nothing else.]

[Rico feels the prickle of a stare bouncing off the back of his helmet, and working on an instinct that every Street Judge has - or at least, the ones that aren't dumb as dirt and still alive - he fingers the baton by his side and says out loud without turning around;]

You looking at me, creep?

[D: Wildcard option!]

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[Now that she's over the novelty of having a body, Cortana only bothers with the mess for the occasional cup of coffee. She takes it black (like her heart, etc.) so Rico's impromptu drug bust isn't cramping her style. Still, it's hard to miss the guy in the Judge's uniform making a mess by tearing open sugar packets like an unattended toddler.

As one of the only people in the Legion who actually likes America, Cortana finds it more amusing than anything else. The fact that she won't be responsible for cleaning up after him might have something to do with it, too.]

This should be good.

[She means to be overheard, and takes a measured sip from her steaming mug...speaking of restricted substances.

Her robotic body is slightly built, perhaps a bit on the tall side of average, and clearly not meant to be mistaken for human, its skin an unnatural shade of blue-white. She's wearing some kind of high-tech skintight suit with the requisite (and solely decorative) glowing Tron lines, and a smirk.]

Edited (imagine if i could do html) 2017-07-07 01:13 (UTC)

[Unattended toddler is perhaps a very apt description. Rico catches the remark at the edges of his hearing, pauses briefly, then turns around to face the source of the mouthy little comment. His gaze flickers over the bot, making a threat assessment even as the smile remains placidly fixed in place. A smirk grows on his face to match hers in a way that could almost be mistaken for friendly.]

Oh really? [He drawls.] I didn't realize I'd become part of the Tri-D morning entertainment.

[Rico saunters over to her and slants his hip against the edge of her table, nonchalantly leaning down right in front of her face like he has no concept of boundaries. In actuality he does, he just wants to see how she'll react. And also just for the fun of riling somebody up.]

This is a drug bust in progress, citi-- legionnaire.

[Despite his best efforts, there's still a little bit of amusement that leaks through in his voice, showing how seriously he's actually taking this.]

[It was apparently a lucky thing for Thad that he'd never really taken to sugar, usually he was good with just a little honey in his tea, but today he was tempted to forgo even that. For today was the day that a hulking man had decided all the sugar was for him, and him alone. At first, seeing an armor-clad adult tear open tiny packets of sugar and dump them on a table had merely been one of the oddest (and most perturbing) little 'quirks' he'd been witness to thus far.

And did he seriously just dip his finger in it and lick it? Gross!

But when he moved on to actively bogarting the little packets from other people and claiming they were 'restricted substances' the quirk went from odd (and messy!) to obnoxious.]

"No, they're not."

[The haughty indignant response practically comes out on automatic, as he now stood there near the last person to get their hand slapped by a baton, with a sour look on his face and tea clutched in hands, probably looking about as intimidating as a yapping chihuahua next to this Judge.]

[Excuse you. This is an extremely scientific forensic testing method. At the comment, Rico looks down, and down. Was this funny looking juve seriously trying to contradict him? Kid's got some nerve, coming up to him like this. Rico mentally tuts to himself. No fear of the Judges here, that's their problem.]

Yes, they are. [He says slowly, with a hint of amused condescension, like he's talking down to a child about five years younger than the juve in front of him actually is. He taps his daystick impatiently against a table leg, making a sharp rapping sound, and then smiles at him beatifically.] In fact, it almost sounds like you're contradicting me. Are you?

In defiance of all etiquette, the 14-year-old boy with the three-stringed instrument looks up at him.

"I'm in the middle of a story," he mutters, with all the polite confidence of someone who has a Busking License . . . or assumes they don't Need One.

He returns to his audience, watching his folded-paper drama intently. The boy keeps playing music on his shamisen, the folded paper responding magically to his music. "But Hanzo knew his loyal samurai would not be trapped by a mere pit for long -"

Edited 2017-07-08 05:38 (UTC)

Rico doesn't say anything for a second. Just tilts his visor to the show and watches for a brief moment, the innocent joy on people's faces. The simple delight it brings to the crowd as the delicate flutter of paper assembles and re-assembles in an array of magical displays. And for a moment, he feels the tiniest stirring of emotion. With this in mind, he turns back to the juve with with a wide, wide, terrible smile. And in a deep, hoarse voice that does not go with the cheerful tone;

"No, I think you're in the middle of an apology!"

Which is exactly why he lifts his foot and crushes a folded paper figure under his steel-capped boot. Then grinds it into the ground for good measure.

[Buddy, she watches the Master Chief kill scarier things than you before her startup routines are fully initialized. Besides, her body isn't her, and someone getting too close to it feels like them leaning down to peer through the window of a car she's driving.

Visceral reactions not withstanding, Cortana sure does recognize an intimidation tactic when she sees one, and raises a single unimpressed eyebrow.]

Uh-huh. If you're dumb enough to believe that'll fly around here, I don't ever want you on my field team.

Kubo has gotten a lot more paper than just what his mother gave him in life since he arrived in Legionworld. The treated waterproof, fireproof, micro-edged combat paper Brainy whipped up for him sometimes makes its way into his shows, when he's doing a particularly big effect. That paper might find its way under a boot without too bad an effect.

But Kubo mostly falls back on his old, familiar material when he's just putting on a performance. So the red paper Rico grinds into the ground is one of Mother's treasured gifts, impossible to replace, even in this digital future where paper is rare.

The music stops with a twang and a gasp from the audience, mostly made up of Legionworld employees on their carefully-timed breaks, and Kubo's only eye widens at the callous display.

With a few power chords, all the rest of his paper snaps flat and flies into a stack behind him. The smashed fragments of paper under Rico's boot tries to respond to the music in the same way, but held in place, only a few scraps break free to fly to Kubo, standing in between this unkind person and his paper.

"I'm sorry this is where you want to walk, but I perform here every day," he proclaims, his voice trembling slightly with astonished outrage. There was no reason for that cruelty. No reason for this man to care that it is a treasured gift from a dead mother he has stomped on, either, so why even bring that up?

"Any other time you can walk through here, but I've been performing here since I arrived. The lighting is best and the sound carries farthest."

Kubo keeps eyeing the fragments of red paper under Rico's boot as he stands his ground. It's damaged and probably dirtied now, but it's still a gift and he still at the end of this confrontation wanted to get it back.

Rico can't lie; it's the exact kind of reaction he'd wanted. The paper snapping up in the air is a little bit of a surprise though - he hadn't taken it for anything more than a toy. But Rico's instinct for feeling anything struggling under his boot is to press down harder, and that's exactly what he does. Normally it's somebody's face, but judging by the look on the kid's face? It might as well be the same thing.

"See, you said sorry, but I don't think I heard the right kind of apology. You keep talking at me, but I'm not hearing any 'I'm very sorry Judge, I promise I won't do it again' in there."

Rico swings his daystick in circles idly, and it comes to a stop pointing right in Kubo's face. It's a dramatic gesture, but the sentiment is very much there.

"And that's an admission to conspiring to cause a public disturbance. Not to mention cheeking a Judge. Breach of the peace, disorderly conduct, and unlawful assembly. Show's over. Get lost."

The threat of the daystick would phase Kubo a more if his father were not in the audience, somewhere. Maybe a little distracted, but Beetle's attention never wandered that far from one of Kubo's shows. It's much easier for Kubo to look an adult with a weapon in the eye and stand his ground with that in mind.

Which doesn't mean he isn't afraid. "You're right, it wasn't a proper apology," he agrees, adrenaline from the threat of the daystick putting another small quiver in his voice. He doesn't want to be hurt, but he also has no reason to give in to someone threatening that. And the man was a Judge, which meant he was probably from America's world, which made his assurance make a lot of sense.

"Because I'm not apologizing," Kubo goes on. "I'm not committing any crimes here. Maybe in your world, I would be, but your rules are not the rules here. I'm a Legionnaire, not a Judge, and so are you now. You have new laws to get used to."

He stares the man in the eye past the nightstick, afraid but not deferring, buoyed by assurance that he is behaving acceptably, and the knowledge that somewhere in the audience, someone is on his side. With a lot of arrows.

This confidence makes him press on.

"It's not a law that you have to take your foot off that paper, but you should do it anyway," he adds. Maybe it wasn't against the law to be cruel for no reason, to stop someone from doing something harmless just because you were used to crushing joy, but it ought to have been. "That was a gift from my mother."

Edited (I'm sorry my tenses keep slipping) 2017-07-08 19:18 (UTC)

[Rico barks out a laugh and leans back, grinning. It probably helps that Cortana driving a pretty vehicle; he'd let a lot of things slide for that. It's not often that people remain impassive under the scrutiny of a Judge, and Rico's in just a good enough mood from the discovery of sugar to find it amusing rather than irritating.]

What am I doing that's so bad? [He says, mock-surprised and spreading his hands by his side.] This is for their own good. The management's making addicts out of you all. Sugar's no joke.

[He eyes up Cortana's mug of steaming coffee, and reaches over and taps it.]

So's caffeine, droid.

Friendly advice-- [Cortana takes another sip as though he hadn't said anything at all about it] --nobody likes a killjoy, and your authority as a Legionnaire doesn't extend to enforcing laws that don't exist in this jurisdiction. Keep playing stupid dominance games, and you'll stop having any authority at all.

[Cortana does like America, despite America's deep-seated killjoy tendencies, and this guy is America's colleague twice over. Maybe she can spare everyone yet another tedious shouting match over the network. Or maybe not--some people need to touch a live wire a few times to realize electric current hurts like hell. Far be it from her to meddle in the learning process, at least when it doesn't inconvenience her personally.]

And "AI" is more accurate than "droid."

[Getting to the important part, as far as she's concerned.]

Rico cocks his head to the side. Wow. Is this juve moralizing at him? What he's saying barely even makes sense to Rico. He understands the individual words that come out of Kubo's mouth, but strung together into a sentence, it makes a concept he's barely familiar with. He's a Judge. When does he not have jurisdiction?

"I don't have to do anything the law doesn't tell me. But as far as I'm concerned, kid? I am the law."

The law isn't just something he carries with him. It's something Rico embodies. And if the law is cruel, nonsensical, and needlessly strict? Well, that's just too bad. He bends down at the waist, and comes up very close to Kubo's face, talking in a lower tone of voice.

"Just between us, kid? I'm a very reasonable man. I like to think I let a lot of things slide! And that's why I haven't broken your kneecaps. Because I respect the Legion. So be thankful for that."

That's a lie, threefold. He's not very reasonable, he doesn't respect the Legion, and if he had his lawgiver on him, he would have shot him instead. But he's not interested in kicking up a fuss in front of all these people. It would be pretty hard to explain away to say the least. So instead, he stands back up, smiling as if he hadn't just threatened a fourteen year old to his face.

[A killjoy? Rico's not a killjoy. Joe's a killjoy. Other Judges are a killjoy. He's offended by the very thought. The smile slips from his face like an oil spill, and he doesn't pay any mind to the other half of her words. It doesn't make any sense anyway. He slides off the table and takes a step back, still looking at her.]

Do I sound like a killjoy? [Rico asks, only the hint of a snarl playing at his lips.] Look at me! Am I shaking down somebody for their sugar stash? Am I in the backroom with my fist in somebody's face, demanding answers?

[He gestures dramatically to himself, sweeping a hand over the mess hall. His tone is still somewhat playful, but it seems to be barely constrained by a fierce, seething attitude.]

Here I am, palling around with my new co-workers to be, and all the worst anybody got was a rap on the knuckles! I'm a grud-damned angel of mercy!

Edited 2017-07-08 20:20 (UTC)

If the Judge expects this to scare Kubo, he may be surprised when it does the opposite. The boy inhales angrily, better to project his next statements.

"You're not gonna break my kneecaps because that's not something you're allowed to do here," he insists, his voice carrying across the cafeteria. Kubo's ability to be loud and understood by a crowd helped keep him and his mother fed through his childhood. It's an asset especially now.

"You're not the law. You're not even acting like a Legionnaire. We don't threaten people for no good reason."

This has to be known and stopped, now. Better that this guy make it clear who he is with Kubo, rather than threatening one of the many civilians on the ship, who might actually feel alone and powerless enough to be scared.

Kubo strums a few notes on his shamisen and more paper flies out of his pack. Not the treasured sheets from Mother and home, but the treated, waterproof, fireproof paper Kubo has on hand for missions. The black and orange sheets twist in the air around him, but not to attack - instead they fold themselves into an approximate shape of the Judge and land on the ground between them.

Kubo smirks, stepping back slowly as he plays. Paper Judge struts and postures, the figure conveying with masterful body language his very, very high opinion of himself, before sticking one tiny, impossibly detailed folded finger into his nose.

Someone in the audience giggles.

This probably does pass for friendly where you're from, doesn't it.

[She sighs, a theatrical gesture from someone who doesn't need to breathe.]

Look, you're trained to assess a situation before going in, right? So stop and assess the one you're in now. Are your ordinary tactics having the effect you want?

[Eternally pragmatic, Cortana thinks from her exposure to America that reason will work. As much as she'd enjoy seeing one of their enhanced physique teammates break his jaw, that seems unlikely to produce a long-term solution.]

Rico always has a good reason for threatening someone. And if he doesn't, he makes one up on the report. It's almost standard practice for the Justice Department, really. But whatever restraint Rico's been showing up to this point - and he has, he well and truly has - goes flying out of the window the second he sees a tiny, miniature paper helmet and realises what he's doing.

Objectively, there's a similarity in the posture there, but the finger up the nose is the last straw. With an outright snarl forming on his lips, he snatches the little figure up from the ground and crushes it in his gloved fist. He tosses the remains to the side and advances on Kubo, the slope of his shoulders promising a ten-fold retribution, his daystick held in a white-knuckled grip.

"You think you're real funny, don't you?"

If anyone were to intervene, now would be a good time before kneecaps are smashed.

As if on cue, a shimmering barrier of blue force springs up in front of Rico. Looks like the commotion has drawn some attention.

"If you've really got a problem with this, I'd suggest filing an official complaint." Garrus's voice comes from over Rico's shoulder, as the turian enters the mess hall. "Generally speaking, assaulting kids is frowned upon."

"What, you don't like a touch of comedy to lighten up a situation?"

Kubo keeps up his playing, the crushed piece of Mother's paper flying with the rest of the undamaged sheets into his pack. If Rico thought the crushed Judge was completely out of commission, too, he may be surprised when the paper's crushed remains scoot back between the retreating Kubo and advancing Rico. The crumpled figure tries to regain its former shape and respond to the music Kubo plays, but its clumsy, half-broken movements continue to be comical only because Rico hasn't left any room for the audience to perceive him as sympathetic.

The shimmering barrier is neat, and not entirely expected, and Kubo doesn't recognize the speaker personally. He does recall looking through some of his message traffic from when the Time Ripples were making him older, though, and realizes he's spoken to Garrus before. He just doesn't remember doing it.

"That always goes over well for me," he goes on, voice-acting unconcerned, a little less of an act now that Rico is contained. But his glance still darts to the audience, looking for his father's looming shape.

"Generally speaking, this is an obstruction of justice." Rico hisses. He doesn't need this nosy alien interfering. This music needs to stop, now. "I'll do more than just frown if you don't lower this right drokking now."

He takes a swing with his daystick at the barrier to demonstrate, and it bounces right off, much to his mounting frustration. He seethes, because if there's anything Rico hates, it's being undermined. Fine. The boy can wait. He'll deal with the source problem himself. He flips the daystick in his hand, adjusting his grip, and turns fully to the alien as he bites out two words.

"Last. Chance."

Obstruction of justice. So he's a crooked cop, too.

This just keeps getting better.

"You're at least a dimension outside of your jurisdiction. As far as the law here is concerned, all you're doing is threatening another Legionnaire." Garrus replies coolly. There's no fear in his voice, but there is tension in his shoulders, a slight bend to his knees ... he's braced if Rico decides to make a move.

"Or you'll do what, exactly?" Garrus asks, arching an eyebrow. "If you take a crack at either of us, you don't think that the dozen other Legionnaires in the room are going to come over and see what all the fuss is about?"

Because Garrus isn't sure how things work wherever this 'Judge' is from, but he's pretty sure that isn't going to fly here.

"Do yourself a favor and cool down before you make this worse for yourself."

Edited 2017-07-08 22:26 (UTC)

The music does stop, only because Kubo's point is made. The crushed paper Judge stays where it's fallen on the floor, and Kubo's hands are only on the strings now in case he has to return Garrus' favor and help his fellow Legionnaire.

He knows that de-escalating the situation is the right choice, but anger at being threatened is impeding his ability to think of much that's useful to the conversation. Useful to remember, for when he's back at de-escalation training - how do you de-escalate when you're so angry that you want to see a person shoot themselves in the foot?

He does take a breath and consider things harder. "I know it's hard to adjust when the rules are so different from yours, but there are a lot of people here who can help you through it."

That's decent to have settled on, he thinks. Lots of people are adjusting to changes in their power and social standing here . . . just, not lots of people whose first instinct is to jump to threatening people much smaller and younger than them.

Kubo doesn't expect to like this new Judge the way he likes America.

[Fareeha's world hasn't discovered this level of space habitation, their one earth research colony having fallen to tragedy, so she does find time to make her way to the observation deck. It was usually quiet, and it was always beautiful.

She keeps her distance as she notices someone else there, but she's always interested in all the forms of armor that she's seen represented here and she can't help but staring at it. She's trying to do it surreptitiously, but when he speaks, she flushes slightly. She really wasn't trying to be a creep at all.]

I'm sorry. My armor didn't make it with me here and I guess I'm a little envious. Your kit looks pretty impressive.

[Rico preens under the attention, and takes his hand off his daystick - he's not gonna lie, he's flattered. He turns around and pushes off from the railing, and slants his shoulders in a way that lets the carved golden eagle catch the light in a way he knows attracts more attention. Normally it's a move to attract gunfire, but it works in this situation too. He grins at seeing the flush on her face, and dips his head down in appreciation.]

Thank you. [he says, and it's even only the tiniest bit boastful. This is him trying to be humble. He wonders in the back of his head what kind of armor she's referring to wearing, and casts an evaluative eye over her behind his visor. Space corps?] Most tend to think it's a little ostentatious, but I think that an enforcer of the law has to look this impressive.

[And just like a sun breaking through an overcast day, the smile is back.]

I'm glad you understand me. I'm nothing like the others.

[But Cortana's question makes him pause. And not just because he hasn't been talked down to like that since the academy. Actually, what did he even want to do? Supply was plentiful. The second he stepped away, it'd be available again. And it'd be here again tomorrow, so Rico had no reason to covet it for himself either. He supposed habit, really. He was playing a part, but that part was no fun anymore. Not with this AI who refused to play along.]

Not particularly. For one thing, I can't confiscate this all by myself! [Rico masks his confusion with a grin and tilts his head, like a curious velociraptor.] Then what would you suggest, AI?

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[OPEN] Getting to grips

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