riverviewlogs | got caught up again

Entry tags:

got caught up again

who: Anderson and you, hopefully! Open!
what: Anderson tries to adjust after arrival. Prompts for floor 10 in the communal housing, the shooting range, and shopping. Also feel free to respond with anything! She's on the police force so any potential coworkers have an easy way to run into her, or be doing something suspicious and she'll investigate. Additionally, I have no attachment to prose, so please feel free to switch to brackets.
when: Various
where: Various
warnings: She is telepathic and empathic, although not very aggressive with it. But please fill out her permissions before threading!

    > FLOOR 10

Anderson is an astonishingly easy roommate to adjust to. It might even take a while to realize she's there. She's used to Spartan living, and it shows: she never leaves traces of her presence around in the communal areas, and she cleans up after herself promptly, immediately. That doesn't mean she's a hermit. She's morbidly interested in meeting all of her roommates, just not quite forward enough to seek them out in a concerted fashion.

But feel free to describe something they would be doing on an average day, and perhaps they could run into each other.

    > SHOOTING RANGE

About the only place she still wears her Judge's armor now is the shooting range, where she goes to clear her mind and practice with the local firearms. She intends to get up to snuff on every single weapons comp there is, as one of the only remaining things that she considers inside her comfort zone. Some part of her relaxes just to be back in the uniform with a gun in her hands.

Anderson has never considered herself one of those Judges that can't turn off when they're off the job, but she's starting to realize that only works in comparison to other Judges. Not in comparison to average citizens, or at least not the ones here. She feels completely unmoored, at a loss, pretending she knows what she's doing as she's had to pretend so often before. When she's really having a hard time adjusting, she uses her Lawgiver, keeps up on pure target practice. She's frighteningly efficient, and she doesn't practice only kill shots; she fires to disable as often as to kill.

The new weaponry takes more concentration, but is enjoyable in its own way. She can be found several days a week practicing, if not shooting then stances, smooth reloading, safe carrying positions. She's thorough.

    > SHOPPING

Easily the strangest part of her week is shopping. Anderson's prior shopping experiences have been starkly divided: the dim memories of her childhood in the poorest slums of the city, where her parents could barely afford anything and shopping was fast, sparse; and the luxuries she used her tiny disposable income on as an academy student, the Hall of Justice providing everything she needed to live and nothing more, same as a military cadet. Those were a chance to breathe, an excuse to get out and be among the people she wanted to protect as much as it was to fulfill the purpose of shopping.

Here, in the Quarantine, she is here to shop. She needs clothes. Toiletries. Cooking supplies. Books to read-- for pleasure. It's a bit overwhelming, truth told, not in the scope but just in the mundanity of it. Anderson had gone from poor mutie to terrifying Judge with nothing in-between, and suddenly being thrust into average daily life is a bit baffling. She doesn't dislike it, though. She enjoys the chance to see life from a new angle, appreciates the amount of decisions she can make with no consideration for regulations or for anyone else. She can take her time, since she's still in training at police headquarters and hasn't shifted to a full time schedule yet.

She had to rent a car for the day in order to have somewhere to stash all her purchases. Circumspect and restrained, she doesn't have a ton of them, but here and there she can be found poking through more feminine shopping areas, makeup or jewelry or sundresses, pondering. It's not a part of herself she's ever really considered before, usually on the defensive or the offensive, never just herself, and she's curious.

For about a week, you can run into her shopping for just about anything, poking around in interest even if she has no intent to buy.

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[Even though Bucky is efficient and well trained with weapons, he doesn't come to the shooting range in order to practise. He does that elsewhere, somewhere less public. He comes here to see who else comes here, to scout out the different people and their varying skill levels.

It's the first time he's seen her, either she's new here or she's just started learning. Definitely the first one now that he's seen her practise. He doesn't approach her, he's not even visible as he's sitting up on the roof of the gun shack, but he doesn't know that she can probably feel him there with her abilities.

Just watching like a creeper.]

[ She mostly sinks into her own mental space, enjoying the solitude, while shooting. She goes long stretches without checking her surroundings. It would be distracting to leave her psychic abilities on while shooting-- and if nothing else, it would make it hard. She has a hard enough time shooting people she's not sure deserve it, although she can do it and doesn't hesitate anymore.

Seeing their final thoughts doesn't help that issue one bit. Overall, Anderson has detached her telepathy from combat entirely, unless she's scouting.

After a while, clip burned through, she leans back onto her heels and lets out a long breath. She goes about the wind-down of cleaning and ensuring it's not loaded before putting it away. Today, she'd borrowed one from the range to get familiar with it, and it's not until she's put it back that she sends out an idle mental scan, a sort of muscle stretch to get reacquainted with her surroundings after the dead silence earlier.

She's not expecting to sense someone on top of the roof, and it's such a predatory position that she instantly tenses, gaze snapping up there unerringly like a lodestone.

She's not a Judge here, she repeats herself, in what is becoming a mantra. No one's going to shoot her out of the blue. Don't go for your weapon. Don't escalate. Whoever it is feels attentive, but non-hostile. Good enough. ]

Who's there? [ she asks evenly, after a tense moment. She still can't see him, only sense him. ]

Edited 2017-06-10 17:50 (UTC)

[She hasn't practiced in awhile. Certainly not since she arrived in Riverview, anyway, which was an oversight in and of itself. She'd been busy attending to other matters; namely, researching whatever she could find about this place and its history, gathering insight from other arrivals, and having an existential crisis over the realization that magical portals, God and the Devil all existed.

Yeah. It's been a long week.

Which is mainly how she finds herself at the range that day. It's good practice, but more than that, it's a distraction. A way to let out the frenetic energy coiling tightly in her muscles. When she shoots, she can let everything fall away for a moment, until there's nothing but her and the target. A deadly kind of calm that radiates throughout her entire body.

She's just shot her target full of holes when she eases back, her shoulders relaxing as she allows herself a moment to rest.]

[She's good, exceptionally so.

He watches carefully to see if he can tell which hand she favours, what possible weakness she has, if she has the sort of aim that might be attributed to something like a super soldier serum such as he and Steve have. All through it, he thinks he's safe, she obviously hasn't noticed him.

Until all of a sudden he isn't safe any more.

Bucky has no good explanation for being on the roof, and his thoughts are immediately wary and sharpened to a high focus. Should he run or attempt to diffuse the situation by talking? In the end he does neither, just stays perfectly still and silent in the hope she was just guessing.]

[ She's good, but not perfect. Honestly, Anderson's a rookie Judge, and probably nowhere near Bucky's level. Her aim isn't quite exact, her steadiness isn't totally there. Her mutation doesn't help her with anything but the psychic realm, and she has no physical benefits at all. She has a long way to go before the meat grinder of Mega-City One chews her up and either hardens her into a veteran Judge or spits her out, dead.

It's the cold reality of her life and she knows what's ahead of her. It also makes her tamp down all the empathy in herself and try to mimic Dredd, be as uncompromising as she has to be to survive. She can't afford to question her own judgment. She's a Judge.

When there's no response for long seconds, she announces in an authoritative tone, ] I really don't feel like climbing onto a roof right now, and you're making me nervous. [ Not that she sounds remotely nervous. It's a warning: Anderson just isn't capable of walking away from someone who might be a threat to those who come after her. She'll insist on dealing with things one way or another. ]

[He hears the tone of voice and he knows what it means, the words are a formality before a fight starts. He's used that sort of warning before on a target that he's meant to take alive, and he really doesn't want to get in a meaningless fight here. Especially not surrounded by this many guns.

Running probably would end in pursuit.

So eventually he drops off the side of the roof to land a few feet from her, silent and blank faced.]

I don't mean you any harm.

[ Oh, thank god. She really doesn't want to get into a fight either. Not on her first week on the job, where she's not sure what she's authorized to do and what not. Anderson tries real hard to toe the line of the law.

She relaxes subtly to have her eyes on him. She can metaphorically taste the truth of that, and with it, her light touch on his mental presence fades. She has no more justification for reading him. ]

I believe you. Where I'm from, that would get you shot. [ She shakes her head. People in the Mega-Cities don't fool around. ]

[Is she trusting or just trying to lull him into a false sense of security? He can't tell, but he does know that he wouldn't believe anyone that had been spying on him meant no harm just on the strength of their word alone.]

We're not where you're from.

[Not that it would matter. He's been shot before, and shot at a whole hell of a lot more times than that, he knows how to deal with guns and bullets.]

Yeah. Taking a while to adjust to that one.

[ She sounds even-toned, but internally, she's rueful. That's all too accurate. She's also used to people thinking she's a little off until they figure out she's psychic, and then mistrusting her completely. Admittedly, it's an easier guess to make at home where psychics are common knowledge, if not common themselves.

She's playing with an uneven advantage around here. Anderson hasn't been keeping it a secret, but she doesn't go blurting it out, either. ]

You interested in the show? [ she asks, skeptical. Just what was he doing up there? ]

Hey, Chloe.

[ Easy, relaxed, having waited for a moment between both of their rounds that matched up. Anderson's feeling a lot better herself after having some time at the range. One of the few things that still feels familiar to her.

That guy on the network had been right.

She glances over at her, knowing. ] Feeling better?

[He could lie. He has a strange half-memory of what the Bucky of old might have done, smile and try and charm her, perhaps make a dumb joke like he was trying to catch some sun up there. But he's not that man any more, and flirting would be a foreign language these days.]

I like to know who knows their way around a weapon.

[It's an excellent way of gathering intelligence on anyone careless enough to use a public shooting range to practise their skills.]

[ There's just no point to Anderson in hiding what she can do. Judges are bogeymen, stories used to scare children into behaving in the Mega-Cities, except that those stories are real. They're authorized to do whatever they wish, just about, as long as it stands up to scrutiny later. With no one else on the scene, that's a lot of freedom. There's as many corrupt, self-serving Judges as there are altruistic ones, like Anderson, and citizens never know which one they're going to get.

One thing's the same, though: they're all capable of ruining your life. No, there's never been a point to her in hiding. Even her damn badge these days says Psi on it. She's happier being up front-- and happier without the flirting. She'd take this blunt shop talk any day. ]

Looking for partners or competition? [ she asks easily. She hasn't gotten a sense for how things work around here yet, and she absolutely wants to. ]

[Her ponytail swishes with the sudden swivel of her head in Anderson's direction, not having expected the sudden greeting.]

Oh. Anderson. Hey.

[The question has her lips quirking up as she places her gun down for the moment.] I might've needed that, yeah. You here for a similar reason?

Yeah. Just about.

[ She's tentatively willing to let down some of her classic Judge's stoicism around Chloe. Especially since she's a co-worker. Anderson doesn't fully trust anyone, but she's used to a certain camaraderie with those she works with, and everything she's picked up from Chloe so far has been straightforward, clean, nothing suspicious. She misses her daughter a lot. That alone is a point in her favor for Anderson.

It's to the point that she doesn't bother reading her at all right now. It's rude, really.

In a bout of honesty, ] Everything's so different here, someone told me to find something that felt the same. This was all I could think of.

Neither.

[He certainly doesn't want a partner. Competition might be closer to the truth, but he'd rather not get into a fight with anyone he sees fighting, it's more that he wants to know who might pose a threat in case anything goes wrong. Information is almost as deadly as a gun when in the right hands, after all, and an assassin needs both in order to be the best.

He shrugs, taking a half step back.]

I'll leave you to it.

[He's not much of one for conversation and he's trying to escape before she gets any information on him in return, but he won't just turn and run unless he has to.]

Yeah. I get that. None of it's easy, it is?

[It's something she liked about Anderson, even if she doesn't know her very well yet. There's a simple kind of honesty and openness to her that she appreciates. It's something she can relate to, in a small way; this easy kind of need for familiarity.]

At least it helps take the mind off of everything else.

[Sora hadn't run into most of the people he was apparently rooming with and that had a lot to do with the fact that he hadn't spent much time on floor 10 yet. He'd been running around trying to figure things out, exploring and attempting to get his bearings that he had slept in his bed and promptly left when he woke up.

There had definitely been some greetings shared but that was the extent of it.

For the first time since arriving the young man can be found sitting on the floor of the common area, one of his keyblades resting on his lap as he toys with the keychain hanging off the handle. He's clearly lost in thought, the fact that he was actually alone here and had no idea where his friends were weighing heavily on him. Were they alright? Were the worlds alright? He'd been told why people ended up here but that didn't make sense. He'd never felt like that...had he?]

[ Despite who she has to be to fulfill her role, Anderson is innately a social person who cares about other people and wants to reach out to them. That's all much more possible here. Especially since she can tell at a glance if someone means her harm-- the shift in mental focus is like a pressure along her skin when it occurs, even when she's not actively keeping tabs. ]

Wait. [ A simple statement, no pressure. ] If you're just watching, you might as well stick around. I don't mind an audience.

[ It's not exactly a good survival trait for a Judge, but she refuses to let go of it no matter how hard it makes her life. Toeing the line between who she has to be and who she is is tough, very tough, something that plagues here even when she's ostensibly out from under that in this place.

She nods in response, agreeing. ] Once I'm out of training I'll have something else to do, [ she comments, feeling like she's been in training her whole damn life. She's not far wrong. ] Where did you end up getting placed for work?

[Ah, right. Just being at the shooting range wouldn't tell Anderson much, would it? And she realizes that she doesn't actually know where the other woman was working, either.

She carefully leans down to grab her bag, fishing out the Riverview Police Force badge to show her.]

Police force. As an officer. I am— was a homicide detective back in LA, but I guess they want to see me prove myself first. What about you?

Chandra glances over at the newcomer with a smile as she loads a wooden target onto the belt to lead it back to the furthest distance it could go. Chandra stood out, just a bit. Wild red hair, big amber eyes, casually dressed in some green printed wraps. Orange welding goggles that didn't go with the green wraps.

Not having any weapon at all near her. That probably was the biggest one. Chandra's definitely excited about being here. As she forms five marble sized fireballs in her hand that shoot for her target one after another. Quick deadly little balls that group near the center... but are each off from the mark by a few inches. She squints down the path gallery corridor, "That's way better than last time!"

Chandra may be a bit out of practice with accuracy, too focused on going for bigger and meaner fireballs in her life. Or, you know, trying not to set things on fire.

[The first day, Quentin had spent in the bright sterile hospital, unconscious at first while the doctor and nurses hurried to purge his lungs of river water and pull him back from the blackness he had welcomed like salvation, and then awake and dazed by the suddenness with which life was thrust back upon him. Now on the second day, he is out and little less dazed, as much by the novelty of his surroundings as by his predicament.

On his route from the hospital to the building in which he was told he ought to settle, he had bought for himself a simple breakfast of bread and hard boiled egg, but when the noon dinner hour comes he finds himself at a loss for what to do without dining hall or the servant-driven clockwork of his family's home to depend upon. And so, when Anderson comes through the large kitchen, she will find Quentin peering cautiously into a cupboard here or a drawer there, looking out of place as does one shoved into clothing that is not his own.]

[ It's still morning when Anderson may walk into the kitchen area, finding a familiar teenager lingering at a counter. The coffee maker is brewing, at least, so he's clearly up to something. Whether he hears her footsteps first or spots her out of the corners of his eyes, it doesn't take long before Yuuto glances over his shoulder.

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise—he hadn't expected to see Anderson come through this floor, quite honestly—but his greeting is as nonchalant as ever: ]

Mornin'.

[ Her eyes widen slightly in surprise before recovering; another wall drops, and she becomes subtly more friendly. Trusting people is stupid, but... she wants to. ]

Me, too. Police officer until I prove myself, then a detective. I don't mind the training time. [ Anderson is incredibly serious about her job, and at this moment, it shows, somehow not comical on her youthful face. ] I want to make sure I enforce their laws, not whatever I've brought with me.

[ As she gets home that day, there's a faint prickling to the edge of her senses that it takes her a moment to register as someone actively worrying. Anderson listens to it long enough to identify where the owner of that feeling is, and then switches her absent internal scanning off, not wanting to be invasive.

She comes deliberately into the common area rather than detouring straight for her bedroom. She's a short figure in a beat cop's uniform, her posture and expression too intent and serious for such a low-level position, although it fades as she comes upon Sora.

To her, he looks young. Anderson's only 22, but mentally she feels much older most of the time. She wasn't really allowed a childhood once her parents died. Her features gentle as she decides how to approach this. ] Hey. You must be one of my roommates.

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got caught up again

shooting range

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Floor 10

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Shooting Range

floor 10 | cw: vague allusions to suicide

floor ten

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