[OPEN] Getting to grips

[truefaceofthelaw]

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!]

Comments

B

[steelandtemper]

[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.]

B

[mirror_soldier]

[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.]

A!

[bachido]

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 -"

C

[justice_from_above]

[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.

B

[pump_action]

[One cream, two sugars, every morning. Claire has her system and it works. Except today, there are no sugars, until she notices the individual who seems to be hoarding them. She walks over, heels clicking decisively, and reaches down for two packets.

When he smacks her with the baton she shoots him a cold, killing glare, but that eases into a saccharine smile at his explanation.

She seats herself across from him.]

That's interesting, because I've been studying Legion's rules and bylaws and nowhere is sugar mentioned as a controlled substance, according to [insert appropriate file code here]. This could be considered a misuse of resources, as you are intentionally denying use for others.

Additionally, I may have a welt the Legion higher ups might have questions about. [She looks at the back of the hand Rico had smacked, and against her pale skin it's already a little red. But the words still stand; she's done her research, she's calling bullshit, but if she gets her sugar fix she might just forget the whole thing.]

C

[thedreamisdead]

Creep, huh?

America had been planning on a nice friendly interrogation to find out if this was a Judge, a Jimp, or what. That voice definitely sounded familiar, though. Judge Rico more than Dredd, definitely younger, but... Her eyes flicker over his shoulderpads, his helmet, then down to his lawgiver. A Mark I. That's... ancient. Either someone's raided a museum or the Time Trapper's Griffed up the timelines again.

"I'm looking at a museum piece, Rookie." She draws her daystick and taps it against the palm of her hand. "Turn around, slowly, and let's get a look at that chin."

As nice as it was to meet another Judge, especially a Dredd clone, she's not about to let someone just roll over her.