alex murphy || robocop 2014 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixwordstories2014-02-25 03:45 am
yourmove) wrote in sixwordstories2014-02-25 03:45 am
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[ ARREST MODE__ ]
Hands on your head.
Hands on your head.
Automated functioning and weaponry, how... interesting.
I have no quarrel with you, cyborg, but interfere with my goals and I will be forced to take action.
I have no quarrel with you, cyborg, but interfere with my goals and I will be forced to take action.
[You know, there are probably worse positions to be in when a mech hears those words, but face first in a dumpster is pretty close to the top of that list. Figures. Whirl has ALL the luck. The bad kind.]
[It's not his fault Optimus was all like 'yes, use the energy converters but no you can't pick up random cats on the street to convert for fuel'. Fraggin' rules. Fraggin' stupid rules. ]
I'm gonna go with...no.
[Because what the frag, you come up to his crotch. He ain't afraid of you.]
[It's not his fault Optimus was all like 'yes, use the energy converters but no you can't pick up random cats on the street to convert for fuel'. Fraggin' rules. Fraggin' stupid rules. ]
I'm gonna go with...no.
[Because what the frag, you come up to his crotch. He ain't afraid of you.]
Edited (wut is grammar) 2014-02-25 17:20 (UTC)
[The scans asks more questions than answers when faced with Mr. Freeze, settling on classifying him as CYBORG: UNAFFILIATED and ARMED STATUS UNKNOWN ; what Alex does know is Freeze has a warrant for his arrest and outstanding criminal charges. That settles it.
The NI-408 trained on Freeze doesn't waver. Shaky hands and nerves are obsolete these days. A small part of him misses the butterflies part of this]
I repeat: hands on your head. Drop any and all weapons you have on you and kick them away.
The NI-408 trained on Freeze doesn't waver. Shaky hands and nerves are obsolete these days. A small part of him misses the butterflies part of this]
I repeat: hands on your head. Drop any and all weapons you have on you and kick them away.
[He faced bigger.
...Maybe not much bigger.
It's just those drones were busy shooting at him and this one has its legs waving in the air like it's been caught dumpster diving - as dumpster diving isn't classed as illegal, he can't make an arrest for it. Alex's M2 lowers a fraction.]
Get out. Now.
[The battle rifle is still locked onto what his targeting selects as the most crippling section of the drone visible; in this case a knee-joint where there would've been a knee-cap, if this was a human. DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY blinks on-screen. It tries to give him a count as it scans the drone but it's still ticking away into numbers that go from impressive to just ridiculous]
...Maybe not much bigger.
It's just those drones were busy shooting at him and this one has its legs waving in the air like it's been caught dumpster diving - as dumpster diving isn't classed as illegal, he can't make an arrest for it. Alex's M2 lowers a fraction.]
Get out. Now.
[The battle rifle is still locked onto what his targeting selects as the most crippling section of the drone visible; in this case a knee-joint where there would've been a knee-cap, if this was a human. DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY blinks on-screen. It tries to give him a count as it scans the drone but it's still ticking away into numbers that go from impressive to just ridiculous]
Edited (i trade your grammar for an inability to html. Also now featuring typos) 2014-02-25 20:17 (UTC)
[He may have faced bigger, but has he faced awesomer and more un...uh, vincible, than Whirl? Whirl would scoff at the very thought.]
[But his optic, peering over the edge of the dumpster, sees a weapon, pointed at his leg. He kicks the foot, experimentally, watching the gun track. Hey! Kind of neat! If it weren't, you know, a weapon pointed at his foreknee.]
[Slag. Welp. So much for 'robots in disguise'. He was never good at this stealth slag, anyway. So he'll push out of the dumpster, feet coming to rest on the ground, standing up. It's really hard to roll your eyes when you have one optic, but Primus bless him, he's trying!]
Is this the part where we swap ultimatums?
[Because Whirl likes ultimatums.]
[But his optic, peering over the edge of the dumpster, sees a weapon, pointed at his leg. He kicks the foot, experimentally, watching the gun track. Hey! Kind of neat! If it weren't, you know, a weapon pointed at his foreknee.]
[Slag. Welp. So much for 'robots in disguise'. He was never good at this stealth slag, anyway. So he'll push out of the dumpster, feet coming to rest on the ground, standing up. It's really hard to roll your eyes when you have one optic, but Primus bless him, he's trying!]
Is this the part where we swap ultimatums?
[Because Whirl likes ultimatums.]
[Alex stands there dwarfed by Whirl, his head tilted up slightly as his visor reflects the drone's reflection back at it. This is the moment where if he was a normal, red-blooded human guy, he probably would've been going Oh Jesus in his head, cop or no cop, and thinking about how fragile he is. The drone is big enough to sit on him and not even notice.
That's one of the perks about being a cyborg. Suddenly you stop worrying about how squishy you are and about things like mortality and how much you wanted to do before you kicked the bucket. ]
Hands on your head. All of them, if you're equipped with multiple arms.
[In other words, yes. Fire away with all the ultimatums. Alex ignores what his HUD is thinking might be the strangest eye-roll he's ever seen. Compared to the drones he's met, this one almost seems like it has a personality.]
That's one of the perks about being a cyborg. Suddenly you stop worrying about how squishy you are and about things like mortality and how much you wanted to do before you kicked the bucket. ]
Hands on your head. All of them, if you're equipped with multiple arms.
[In other words, yes. Fire away with all the ultimatums. Alex ignores what his HUD is thinking might be the strangest eye-roll he's ever seen. Compared to the drones he's met, this one almost seems like it has a personality.]
Oh, come on. He just got off the bus not even five minutes ago!
"Is there a problem, off..i....cer?"
Andy trails off as he turns to face the cop, who turns out to not be a cop at all. Or at least not any kind of cop he's ever seen before.
Okay, so there is that unfortunate problem of him currently being the lead suspect in a handful of murders. But isn't this a little overkill, Detroit?
"Is there a problem, off..i....cer?"
Andy trails off as he turns to face the cop, who turns out to not be a cop at all. Or at least not any kind of cop he's ever seen before.
Okay, so there is that unfortunate problem of him currently being the lead suspect in a handful of murders. But isn't this a little overkill, Detroit?
Getting mighty fraggin' personal, asking about all my arms and all.
[It's just the two, but he's going to plop the pincer claws on his hips, instead. Whirl has a few million years of pent up issues with authority and all. ]
Look, it's real nice you wanna teach me your special ethnic hands-on-head dance and all, but I got scrap I gotta do.
[He does not care about Earth culture. Frag, next thing you know, this little weirdo robot wannabe is gonna try to teach him to twerk. Frag. No. Whirl has his limits!]
[It's just the two, but he's going to plop the pincer claws on his hips, instead. Whirl has a few million years of pent up issues with authority and all. ]
Look, it's real nice you wanna teach me your special ethnic hands-on-head dance and all, but I got scrap I gotta do.
[He does not care about Earth culture. Frag, next thing you know, this little weirdo robot wannabe is gonna try to teach him to twerk. Frag. No. Whirl has his limits!]
Not anymore it's not. Alex approaches the suspect as his visor fills him in with the rest:
Barclay, Andrew
16 (minor)
Kent Military School
[SUSPECTED MURDER] [ARSON] [AGGRAVATED ASSAULT] [THEFT]
Alex walks with the heavier whirr-thud of his new OmniCorp body, one arm stiffly at his side and the other up with what's undeniably a weapon in his hand. It's big, mean looking but sleek in a way that says less cop and more military. Currently the NI-408 is on the taser setting and aimed at the center of Andy's body mass where it should have the maximum stopping power.
"Please step this way." Alex says. That "please" sounds like a formality, not a request.
Barclay, Andrew
16 (minor)
Kent Military School
[SUSPECTED MURDER] [ARSON] [AGGRAVATED ASSAULT] [THEFT]
Alex walks with the heavier whirr-thud of his new OmniCorp body, one arm stiffly at his side and the other up with what's undeniably a weapon in his hand. It's big, mean looking but sleek in a way that says less cop and more military. Currently the NI-408 is on the taser setting and aimed at the center of Andy's body mass where it should have the maximum stopping power.
"Please step this way." Alex says. That "please" sounds like a formality, not a request.
Edited (small wording change!) 2014-02-25 21:24 (UTC)
For a second or two Andy thought maybe this was just a man in a suit. Until he started moving.
Andy takes an instinctive step back, because this isn't a man advancing on him. It can't be, not making noises like that just to walk. There's something about the way the metal man moves that's just wrong, wrong in a way Andy doesn't have the words for. He'd make a break for it right then and there, except for that gun currently leveled at his chest. He learned a bit about guns at Kent, and he's never seen a gun like this before. Slowly he raises his hands and spreads his palms open.
"You're... you're not a cop," Andy sputters, staying where he is. "What are you?"
Andy takes an instinctive step back, because this isn't a man advancing on him. It can't be, not making noises like that just to walk. There's something about the way the metal man moves that's just wrong, wrong in a way Andy doesn't have the words for. He'd make a break for it right then and there, except for that gun currently leveled at his chest. He learned a bit about guns at Kent, and he's never seen a gun like this before. Slowly he raises his hands and spreads his palms open.
"You're... you're not a cop," Andy sputters, staying where he is. "What are you?"
[Victor's own analysis of the half machine suggests an array of technological upgrades, not one to be underestimated, especially if he proves to be as tiresomely meddlesome as the Batman and his spawn. In response to the gun Victor raises and charges the Ice cannon, massive yet he is easily able to hold it in one hand. He appears equally unnerved. Having virtually no emotion will do that.]
You are in no position to demand anything of me. I require that device for scientific purposes. It may save the life of the one I... care for. So stand aside.
You are in no position to demand anything of me. I require that device for scientific purposes. It may save the life of the one I... care for. So stand aside.
The visor has a certain intimidation factor Alex believes was engineered to look that way. It takes away the common eye-line he used to share with regular humans like Andy Barclay here, replacing it with a red slit that can''t blink or show the old tells that would warn criminals to back down, buddy or seriously don't bother bribing me.
He pauses when Andy asks his name. There's his name, his real name that's one of the few things he can call his, and then there's the other one; that one is good publicity and there's been times where it feels more natural than Alex Murphy. Which ones does he go with? The hesitation is not even perceptible by a human's standards, but to a machine, it amounts to an unacceptable processing delay. Could be something Dr. Norton needs to know of.
"A detective from the DCPD." It's not committing to either one and that's probably another error on his part. Alex doesn't care. He's tired of being told he's too human, then he's too machine - too much, not enough.
His head tilts slightly to the side, the gesture smooth like it's on ball-bearings as he scans Andy for weapons. "Turn out your pockets, starting with the back one."
He pauses when Andy asks his name. There's his name, his real name that's one of the few things he can call his, and then there's the other one; that one is good publicity and there's been times where it feels more natural than Alex Murphy. Which ones does he go with? The hesitation is not even perceptible by a human's standards, but to a machine, it amounts to an unacceptable processing delay. Could be something Dr. Norton needs to know of.
"A detective from the DCPD." It's not committing to either one and that's probably another error on his part. Alex doesn't care. He's tired of being told he's too human, then he's too machine - too much, not enough.
His head tilts slightly to the side, the gesture smooth like it's on ball-bearings as he scans Andy for weapons. "Turn out your pockets, starting with the back one."
Okay, so maybe Chell was technically trespassing by sneaking into the building and getting up to the roof of the skyscraper. But after being stuck underground for...however long she had been trapped in Aperture's labs, she just wanted to see the sky from as high up as humanly possible. She almost allows a 'Why?' to slip past her lips when she turns around and sees that whoever possessed that voice did not, in fact, seem human. Oh sure, he was bipedal and sounded human (but then, so had Wheatley, and she remembers very clearly how that situation had turned out), but otherwise he seemed to be robotic.
Just her luck.
She turns fully to face him, making sure to step a little bit closer in from the edge of the roof so that the Weighted Companion Cube that's tied to her back doesn't accidentally pull her over the edge if a strong enough breeze blows past. The t-shirt she's wearing is obviously made for a man much larger than her and was probably stolen off of someone's clothesline, though the bright orange jumpsuit with the arms tied around her waist and the odd boots she's wearing fit her perfectly fine. Instead of putting her hands on her head, she just keeps them at her side and shrugs, giving him a defiant little smirk, as if to say 'If you want me, you'll have to come get me.'
Just her luck.
She turns fully to face him, making sure to step a little bit closer in from the edge of the roof so that the Weighted Companion Cube that's tied to her back doesn't accidentally pull her over the edge if a strong enough breeze blows past. The t-shirt she's wearing is obviously made for a man much larger than her and was probably stolen off of someone's clothesline, though the bright orange jumpsuit with the arms tied around her waist and the odd boots she's wearing fit her perfectly fine. Instead of putting her hands on her head, she just keeps them at her side and shrugs, giving him a defiant little smirk, as if to say 'If you want me, you'll have to come get me.'
[The way Freeze changes his posture and charges what his scans assume to be a weapon makes it clear he won't come quietly. The old Alex Murphy might've tried to talk him down a little more, maybe lean on that "someone I care for" angle and try to come to a peaceful solution that doesn't involve bullet holes and body bags.
The new one simply targets Freeze's chest where he approximates a heart should be even with the bulk of the armor and fires.]
The new one simply targets Freeze's chest where he approximates a heart should be even with the bulk of the armor and fires.]
Edited (typos) 2014-02-26 00:41 (UTC)
[If Whirl is trying to get a rise out of him, it's not going to work. It's a lot harder to get riled up these days by thugs or, in this case, drones with a mind of their own and a voice processor to match. Alex's face is neutral underneath the visor, filing a note that the drone has deliberately disobeyed a command more than once.
Pacification looks imminent.]
Are you coming peacefully or do you require pacification?
["Scrapping" is probably the more accurate term, though. It's not every day he's tried to arrest a drone. Most of his rounds consist of the standard humans and unlike the ED-209's, he has limited data on Whirl]
Pacification looks imminent.]
Are you coming peacefully or do you require pacification?
["Scrapping" is probably the more accurate term, though. It's not every day he's tried to arrest a drone. Most of his rounds consist of the standard humans and unlike the ED-209's, he has limited data on Whirl]
If they do and Whirl doesn't end up tased I will have failed my muse ;_;
whirlybird_of_prey
2014-02-26 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Pacification? Wow, stop with the big words. ]
What are you, some kind of cop? Or is that some kind of pickup line?
[Whirl has lost count of how many times he's just ohhhhh ya know, happened to disobey direct orders. It's a lot. He's got a collection.]
Cause I gotta tell you, either way, you better be packing something better than that.
[Such as these magnificent guns he's sporting in his chassis. Which of course can't be fired unless he's in his alt, but, hey, robot wannabe doesn't need to know that.]
What are you, some kind of cop? Or is that some kind of pickup line?
[Whirl has lost count of how many times he's just ohhhhh ya know, happened to disobey direct orders. It's a lot. He's got a collection.]
Cause I gotta tell you, either way, you better be packing something better than that.
[Such as these magnificent guns he's sporting in his chassis. Which of course can't be fired unless he's in his alt, but, hey, robot wannabe doesn't need to know that.]
The gun is what he should be keeping an eye on, Andy knows, but it's that visor he keeps furtively peeking up at, the red slit where eyes should be and the headpiece so polished he can see his own reflection in it. It doesn't look like it was made to be removed easily, and he can't help but wonder what's under it, what he'd be eye to eye with if this metal man were to take it off.
He hesitates, because what he's carrying would probably be enough to get him arrested on its own. But that gun is still leveled at his chest, and the arm holding it hasn't even so much as sagged the way a human one would have, so Andy does as he's told. He moves slowly and carefully, well aware that any sudden moves could be detrimental to his health.
From his back pockets there's a switchblade, the one Tyler gave him. He lets it fall to the ground without trying to catch it. From his pockets there's the bus ticket and a wallet that's not his, a wallet with the money he needed to buy said bus ticket in the first place.
"My jacket," he starts, his voice low and strained. He's not about to reach for the revolver he's got stuffed there, that'd be all but inviting the detective to shoot him, but instinct's telling him keeping his mouth shut and letting him find it on his own isn't a great idea either.
He hesitates, because what he's carrying would probably be enough to get him arrested on its own. But that gun is still leveled at his chest, and the arm holding it hasn't even so much as sagged the way a human one would have, so Andy does as he's told. He moves slowly and carefully, well aware that any sudden moves could be detrimental to his health.
From his back pockets there's a switchblade, the one Tyler gave him. He lets it fall to the ground without trying to catch it. From his pockets there's the bus ticket and a wallet that's not his, a wallet with the money he needed to buy said bus ticket in the first place.
"My jacket," he starts, his voice low and strained. He's not about to reach for the revolver he's got stuffed there, that'd be all but inviting the detective to shoot him, but instinct's telling him keeping his mouth shut and letting him find it on his own isn't a great idea either.
The target Blonsky's after skitters away as they round a corner and he nearly smacks into Murphy, a snarl on his face. He's in black commando-style gear and while there are technicalities saying he shouldn't be after someone in a populated area, it's not his fault the guy rabbited out of the containment zone. He's lost the target, the guy practically turns invisible once line-of-sight is lost, and this tin-can wearing hotshot is to blame.
"Bloody hell! Who invited you?!" He's not moving to put those hands on his head, but he doesn't have any weapons on him either. Not that he really needed a gun these days.
"Bloody hell! Who invited you?!" He's not moving to put those hands on his head, but he doesn't have any weapons on him either. Not that he really needed a gun these days.
That orange would suggest she's a new inmate possibly en-route. Scanning her face doesn't bring up any escaped inmates at large and he's surprised to find her face doesn't have a match. At all. No pings from the Michigan DMV and, taking a few seconds longer to do a larger scan, from none of the other DMVs for that matter. No obvious criminal record; in fact, there's no record at all. She's a ghost in orange.
"You're trespassing. Step toward me, ma'am."
Alex holds out a hand toward her, servos and actuators whirring away as they replace what his muscle and tendons used to do. What she has on her back is also another ghost, coming up in his database as [UNKNOWN] if it's even a threat or not. The woman is still too close to the edge to risk tazing: there's a 85% probability she will fall off and turn a non-lethal response lethal. As she's not wanted for anything but trespassing, he considers it an unacceptable risk.
His visor hisses away from his face, revealing one of the few human parts Alex has left. Brown eyes, surprisingly average face of another cop who died too young. Stress and old laugh lines he doesn't use all that much anymore.
He doesn't seem to blink that much, if at all, even with the wind buffeting them. They're high up enough that it's much windier than down on the sidewalk. The t-shirt she wears flaps about her frame and judging by the size of the clothing, he will assume that's stolen.
"You're trespassing. Step toward me, ma'am."
Alex holds out a hand toward her, servos and actuators whirring away as they replace what his muscle and tendons used to do. What she has on her back is also another ghost, coming up in his database as [UNKNOWN] if it's even a threat or not. The woman is still too close to the edge to risk tazing: there's a 85% probability she will fall off and turn a non-lethal response lethal. As she's not wanted for anything but trespassing, he considers it an unacceptable risk.
His visor hisses away from his face, revealing one of the few human parts Alex has left. Brown eyes, surprisingly average face of another cop who died too young. Stress and old laugh lines he doesn't use all that much anymore.
He doesn't seem to blink that much, if at all, even with the wind buffeting them. They're high up enough that it's much windier than down on the sidewalk. The t-shirt she wears flaps about her frame and judging by the size of the clothing, he will assume that's stolen.
DCPD. [Maybe this drone's optics aren't working because his badge is right there on Alex's chest, engraved into the chestplate because cyborgs don't need to worry about stashing their badges anymore]
You've been warned.
[There's a millisecond delay as Alex flips through his targeting settings. There's no shift in his posture, no tell that he would've had as a full human even if he was the fastest shot on the force. No released breath. He aims and depresses the trigger, the battle rifle's muzzle lighting up as it sends a round straight at those knee-joints his targeting system seems to like so much]
You've been warned.
[There's a millisecond delay as Alex flips through his targeting settings. There's no shift in his posture, no tell that he would've had as a full human even if he was the fastest shot on the force. No released breath. He aims and depresses the trigger, the battle rifle's muzzle lighting up as it sends a round straight at those knee-joints his targeting system seems to like so much]
The moment she sees his face, she inhales sharply. This...man? Robot? Thing? Whatever he is, has thoroughly ensured that her defenses are up. Because robots? She can deal with. People? She's fairly certain she can deal with. But a physical blending of the two? She doesn't know and she doesn't want to know how Aperture (because she's certain he came from Aperture, who else would do something like that?) made something like that.
Chell looks over her back, checking how far down she'll have to go. And really? She's pretty sure that she had bigger jumps at the training facility, not to mention the fall into old Aperture had farther than this and she survived that. With a glance down at her boots to muster her courage, she turns around and jumps.
The way she falls is deliberate. Knees slightly bent and feet first, almost as if she was jumping off of a platform and not one of the tallest buildings in downtown Detroit. Her shirt flaps around her and if anyone had wandered into the alley below to watch would have gotten an eyeful as she approached the ground.
Once she lands, she glances up at the roof that she jumped from, more than certain that he won't be chasing after her and allowing herself a small, real smile. She's free.
And if he wants to take her back to GLaDOS or to whatever testing facility he'll be dragging her to, he'll have to kill her.
Chell looks over her back, checking how far down she'll have to go. And really? She's pretty sure that she had bigger jumps at the training facility, not to mention the fall into old Aperture had farther than this and she survived that. With a glance down at her boots to muster her courage, she turns around and jumps.
The way she falls is deliberate. Knees slightly bent and feet first, almost as if she was jumping off of a platform and not one of the tallest buildings in downtown Detroit. Her shirt flaps around her and if anyone had wandered into the alley below to watch would have gotten an eyeful as she approached the ground.
Once she lands, she glances up at the roof that she jumped from, more than certain that he won't be chasing after her and allowing herself a small, real smile. She's free.
And if he wants to take her back to GLaDOS or to whatever testing facility he'll be dragging her to, he'll have to kill her.
[Hey, his optics work just fine. He'd like to see this terrible robot impersonator read proper Cybertronian. Plus, wow, that's really small and Whirl doesn't want to look like a weirdo staring at another mech's chassis.]
Yeah? I used to be a cop, too.
[You get one guess which side of the 'good cop/bad cop' divide he was on.]
[Rung's always telling him to make connections and find common points and all. He's going to give himself an A+ right there.....right up till the round leaves the barrel. ]
[Whirl's got the reflexes of four-million-years of being shot at, so he manages to move pretty fast. Not enough to avoid the shot, but enough that instead of puncturing the joint, it grazes a long line down his digitigrade shin. ]
Hey, mech, you really need to work on your combat repartee.
[Like, you know, critiquing another's combat repartee, while you lunge forward with your massive advantage in size and reach and speed, and try to swat the gun from his hand.]
Yeah? I used to be a cop, too.
[You get one guess which side of the 'good cop/bad cop' divide he was on.]
[Rung's always telling him to make connections and find common points and all. He's going to give himself an A+ right there.....right up till the round leaves the barrel. ]
[Whirl's got the reflexes of four-million-years of being shot at, so he manages to move pretty fast. Not enough to avoid the shot, but enough that instead of puncturing the joint, it grazes a long line down his digitigrade shin. ]
Hey, mech, you really need to work on your combat repartee.
[Like, you know, critiquing another's combat repartee, while you lunge forward with your massive advantage in size and reach and speed, and try to swat the gun from his hand.]
Those are the very technicalities that flash across Alex's HUD too fast for the human eye to follow. In the span of a millisecond he reviews it, identifies this man as a certain Emil Blonksy and registers that he has a record. Most of it's classified.
"I don't need an invitation. What are you doing here?" Alex's voice comes out modulated as the visor gleams crimson at Blonsky. What he's gleaned from the records that aren't encrypted there and back again tells him that the idea of looking the other way would be...not so good.
"I don't need an invitation. What are you doing here?" Alex's voice comes out modulated as the visor gleams crimson at Blonsky. What he's gleaned from the records that aren't encrypted there and back again tells him that the idea of looking the other way would be...not so good.
There's a brief curl of his lip and then the comms earbud he's wearing squelches and he winces as a voice shouts across the line.
"Queen1! Do you have the target!?"
"Hold that thought." Blonsky pays no regard to the man...thing in front of him and puts a hand to his ear. "Lost 'em, sir." And then his focus is right back on Murphy as he pulls the earbud out, completely ignoring the voice on the other end suddenly demanding why and how he'd lost the target. Blonsky wanted to know as well. "Right, who's asking?"
"Queen1! Do you have the target!?"
"Hold that thought." Blonsky pays no regard to the man...thing in front of him and puts a hand to his ear. "Lost 'em, sir." And then his focus is right back on Murphy as he pulls the earbud out, completely ignoring the voice on the other end suddenly demanding why and how he'd lost the target. Blonsky wanted to know as well. "Right, who's asking?"
The switchblade clatters to the floor, his targeting reticle following it to the pavement. Next comes a ticket and a wallet that slaps down with the sound of old leather. With the way Andy fumbles it out of his pocket, Alex figures it's not likely his - he doesn't pull it out like he's used to doing it day in and day out. There is the history of theft, after all. It's likely he pickpocketed it.
He'll have to return it to its owner after this.
Alex steps forward with the gun still trained on the boy's chest. It's set for tasering because he's not programmed to consider complete pacification of minors unless necessary. Andy is being cooperative, therefore he doesn't get shot. The visor stares at Andy and the way his eyes dart despite himself, the little beads of sweat on his forehead that would be normally too small to see at this range without magnification. Nervousness and fear. Moving slow enough to telegraph he doesn't want to be pacified.
So far, so good.
With Andy's troubled history, it's probable he is armed with more than a switchblade. He'll likely find something on a pat-down. "Hands on your head." It's only a matter of time before he finds that revolver.
He'll have to return it to its owner after this.
Alex steps forward with the gun still trained on the boy's chest. It's set for tasering because he's not programmed to consider complete pacification of minors unless necessary. Andy is being cooperative, therefore he doesn't get shot. The visor stares at Andy and the way his eyes dart despite himself, the little beads of sweat on his forehead that would be normally too small to see at this range without magnification. Nervousness and fear. Moving slow enough to telegraph he doesn't want to be pacified.
So far, so good.
With Andy's troubled history, it's probable he is armed with more than a switchblade. He'll likely find something on a pat-down. "Hands on your head." It's only a matter of time before he finds that revolver.
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