Distracting Conversation

Distracting Conversation
Date of Scene:	27 January 2013
Location:	Datapoint Security - Barracks
Synopsis:	CHIEF decides it is a good idea to have a conversation with a busy mechanic of the MCP's.
Cast of Characters:	MCP, CHIEF

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CHIEF has posed:

The Data Point Security has become the home of a few programs that are part of the Black Guard, along with one complete stranger to this entire order. Though as for the few days, he has become a main point of someone's studies from target practice runs to even quick valuations of coordinates.

One could simply see it as this individual was evaluating how much of this programs code was 'broken' and how much of it still operated at its full complexity. After all, how could a simple Target Interface program go so completely wrong? How could users take something designed to search, locate, and lock, then turn around and give it a trigger finger without it breaking apart? Was there some similarities in this code to the original core programming, or was there some directory that could 'fix' itself?

It was extremely hard to figure out and even chase down the problems in the bloated, spiraling, corrupted, dead-end, bugging beyond frag code. At least that I what CHIEF things of his own code. How could everything that was going /so/ right in his life, gone /so/ wrong. He was always a targeting interface and then suddenly, they decided to give him a trigger. They turned him into a war program with an endless loop. They /made/ him a killer. A weapon.

But maybe there was a 'cure' for this, that is what the MCP was looking into wasn't it? A cure for this bug. At least, that is what CHIEF hopes.

The program slowly rises out of his bed, before carefully starting to make his way for the door to head out into the main room. There was a part of him that was even starting to get home sick really. Missing the Grid... and actually explaining some things again about /his/ Grid, made him only miss his paradise even more.

The user world was so... he didn't even have a word for it.

Slowly the red brunette peeks around the corners, those gold eyes peering around, with a cigar just hanging slightly out from his lips (even though it was not lit at this current time). He then peers down one way, then peers down the other way. Trying to decide if he was to step out if somehow some alarm wouldn't active or he find some random object flung at him.

Something the military program has learned thus far; These Black Guards had some /very/ interesting tools.

MCP has posed:
Tick tick.

A small, spindly metal construct ticks across the ceiling. It almost appears to be.. humming? Or at least squeaking the notes of a simple, repetitive tune that comes to a halt as it spots CHIEF. It pauses in the middle of the ceiling, then lets out a merry chirp and runs around in a small circle before skittering across the ceiling into another part of the complex.

"See-- This? This right here? This is why we can't have nice things, CHALK. What did you even DO to glitch the code for this so badly?"

Lancer's voice comes from down the hallway into a small storage room and workshop."..eeh. Nearly run into a wall. See also TRON for further referent." There is a longish pause and then the almost audible sound of shrug. "..good point."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF slowly raises a brow at the small drone. Target acquired. Target Lock----

He then breaks his gaze away from it and lets out a low huff of a sigh. He /hates/ grid bugs, even worse these were, not like the normal ones. Oh yes, he remembers what they did to him and it was almost enough for him to just slink back in to his room to not tempt hundreds of those things tackling him; knocking him out again.

Fear the grid bugs. Fear them and Des-- No.

However CHIEF hears the voices and peers in that direction. He furrows his brows and then carefully places his foot out, he pauses like that for a moment, before he then carefully, very carefully sets it on the ground. As he does he grimaces like expecting a loud siren to go off.

Nothing.

CHIEF slowly opens one eye as he chomps down on the cigar and moves it to the other side of his mouth. So much of assuming they had something like that; unless they have a silent one somewhere. Then again if that Grid bug was any indication, it could be the simple case that they didn't /need/ any because of those.. things.

The Military Program then carefully makes his way over to where the voices are coming from in the storage room. Which he slowly peers into and glances around the room from what he can see. His eyes scanning /everything/ in the room. All possible targets, targets, rinse and repeat. At least he nothing was causing him to go 'Destroy'.. Yet.

MCP has posed:
Another black lacquered room that is simple and functional.

A swipe of red is slightly luminescent as it wraps around the room at ankle height. On a black table that runs two corners of the room there are several chairs and a number of tools.

CHALK is sitting facing backwards with his elbow propped on the back and head turned towards LANCER, unhelmeted so that his scarred face and black visor is seen to consume most of the upper half of his face. He throws a hand up towards the entrance without looking towards there but doesn't say anything in greeting. LANCER is poking at a baton that is floating in a matrix of energy with several screens open around the base. He is about to gesture one of them open when he follows the arc of the hand, then follows the hand to the entrance, eyebrows raising.

The blonde program raises his eyebrows. "Morning, sunshine." he cheerfully states at CHIEF, CHALK snorts. "You can take yourself and your nonsense statements. Do you know where you can transit them?" LANCER smirks. "To another.. available address?" "Yes." CHALK says very, very dryly.

"Let's go with that. Greeting, program. This store room is where we stuff LANCER when we need anything fixed or modified. He's our mechanic." LANCER glances towards CHIEF's direction, examines the spooling code.. hesitates a moment before picking up a tool to continue repairs. CHALK snorts again faintly but the context is unapparant.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF realizes he isn't in trouble, though silently wonder how CHALK knew he was there without even looking over in his direction. This was.. such an odd group of programs.

CHIEF then listens to the two banter before and as they both say their greetings. His eyes look over to LANCER then over to CHALK, before he steps into the room. Giving it another once over. "So this is then.. LANCER's room?" He asks with a raised brow. "I'll put that in memory if I ever need anything."

CHIEF then studies the two, making mental checks constantly to keep things in line. "And I've met LANCER once as well, since he got a boot to the head from ECHO." The military program can not help but smirk at this. "She has a good throwing arm.. probably knowing my luck, thanks to me no less." If only he could remember at times, le sigh.

He moves the cigar to the other side of his mouth, before he stares over at CHALK, then looks up and around, trying to see how the other program /still/ saw him. "And who are you, program?" Addressing CHALK not putting the name ECHO stated to him after the grid bug 'attack' to him. "..And how did you..?" He points up and around, still trying to determine /how/.

MCP has posed:
"One that I well and truly deserved." LANCER says this with some chagrin as he prods at the baton in several more places. The orange and red sections of code flicker, then scale back up to gold as code sections are recompiled.

The mechanic puts the tool down, swiping the baton out of the light aura before flipping it back over his shoulder at CHALK.

The baton arcs lazily several times before the program catches it underhanded, snagging it out of the air before it reaches the floor. "That's CHALK. He's a drone controller whose now--approximately 2 units late for assignment." CHALK pfts, shaking the baton twice at LANCER who waves him away as CHALK gets out of the chair, spinning it around once before turning a hand clockwise. The scarred program smirks as a grid bug drops from the ceiling into his outstretched hand. It beeps cheerfully and twitters that same repeating sequence as CHALK points at it. "The only bugs in the system Master Control keeps around." LANCER shrugs, turning back to his table with a smirk. "Probably for entertainment value. You looking for something?"

The bug makes a chittering noise at LANCER then scuttles up onto CHALK's shoulder.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF takes in this information, though it was a little hard for him to follow. It was like trying to access old directories, of old files, and bring it forward to understand terms and words he probably hasn't heard in ages. Vocabulary from his originals days up to his final upgrade had changed a great deal, that sometimes... it was fun keeping up with stuff.

As the Grid program drops down, CHIEF gives it that look. That look of, 'oh hell, those /things'. "So-- You are CHALK and thus the one I should thank for my beauty cycle." The military program states as those gold eyes look directly at that black visor, as if trying to search past it to look /directly/ at him.

He steps out of the way, before crossing his arms over his chest, rolling the cigar for a moment in thought. "I guess they probably have their uses, but sorry to say, never been a fan of 'em." He stares at the grid bug on the shoulder now. Before giving a mild smile, which just as quickly fades as he looks over to LANCER. "You also work pretty quick for a mechanic, I can see why you are kept around." There was a playfulness to those words. "Hard to find good mechanics, even back in my sector. Tons of programs who can do it, but very very few who are actually /great/ at it."

MCP has posed:
"There is a refreshing utility in something that can survive the outlands without exterior power." CHALK responds to CHIEF with a voice that somewhat accurately mimics the military programs tone. "Pft. Toss that. You are in love with the little vermin."

In a voice mirroring Lancer, CHALK quips. "But LANCER-- /everybody/ loves grid bugs." LANCER makes a face, shaking his head as he stands from the workstation. "That's not how you parse 'loathe' CHALK. Get out of here." When CHIEF complements LANCER, the drone tech just shakes his head in the universal gesture of 'I cannot believe you said that' --the little grid bug on his shoulder making a twittering noise almost reminiscent of a sigh as LANCER beams at the military program.

"Eh. Master Control keeps me around because I'm the best, not just the fastest. Right CHALK?" In that echoing mirror voice, CHALK bounces the banter back at LANCER. "I'll come back later when you've finished building those file extensions to your head." and with a nod to CHIEF, leaves the room.

LANCER chuckles once or twice as he flips another baton out of the rack. He whistles softly. "Ah,, I see SHRIKE takes the corners again too fast." He walks out to the empty middle space, separating the end rods of the baton and materializing the light cycle.

A long pixelated gash runs along the right side from front light to back wheel. LANCER tchs, crossing his arms. "never a dull cycle."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF raises an eye brow as he now just realizes that CHALK's voice is a combination of data. He makes note of this and gives the drone tech a nod of the head in passing, before his gold eyes peer over to LANCER then. He watches the tech for a moment, glancing at what may be in here; perhaps even silently looking to see where they stored his rifles. "How could you tell the damage before looking at it?" CHIEF asks looking over at him, before leaning against the wall.

"I've been around many mechanics in my who knows how many cycles, and its rare one can just pick up something and tell what is wrong." The military program then just shrugs, "But again, I am no mechanic." He takes notice of the light cycle and chuckles softly to himself a little by his own thoughts."So-- who is this SHRIKE?" He asks now debating on lighting his cigar as he takes it out of his mouth examining the tip of it.

To light or not to light; Tis the question!

CHIEF then lowers his hand with the cigar in it, "Also hope you don't mind me hanging around. The room was... getting stuffy." Kinda like the rest of this building. Though he understood why he was here, but didn't mean that he liked it. Surely all this research had to be leading to something, right?

MCP has posed:
LANCER looks at the cycle, then looks at CHIEF. He smiles in an absently chagrined way. "I'm.. just that good." he admits with a self-satisfied smile that is just a little too high wattage to be genuine.

"Yeah sorry about that. I'll go fix the things people broke when I'm done here. See is any of it can be salvaged. Oh, and I'm no military program so there's no use at all in shaking me until your weapons fall out." He runs a hand along the long pixelated gash. "AESIP's tried that before and was denied, so I can't see why this routine would run differently." he kneels down, inspecting the damage idly as he picks apart the damaged sectors for the really damaged parts that flash in deep red.

"SHRIKE? He's-- ah. He's the life of the party, that's for sure. Anti-spyware, malware that sort of thing. Deals with the stuff you don't want to be in the same sector with, let alone the same general address."

CHIEF has posed:

So there was someone else here in this little camp that had a thing for weapons too huh? That was interesting and something CHIEF noted down in memory from LANCER, as he put his cigar back in his mouth. Not lighting it again it would seem. Probably for the better...

"So he is like TRON then? A security program?" CHIEF asks with a cant of his head. "Or am I getting my functions crossed?" he crosses his arms over the other in an 'x' like fashion, before crossing his arms over his chest. "And good to know there is another program around who likes his weapons, what's his deal then? Some glitch that got the wrong end of the stick like myself, minus the loop?" That would be nice, could mean there may indeed be away to turn this all around; though he-- sorta doubted it.

CHIEF continues to watch him work, his eyes focusing on the data that LANCER plays with. It doesn't make any sense to him, but it was interesting to watch. Those his gold eyes do scan around the room again, most just for the sake of looking now. Seeing what was all in here, scanning-- pretty much everything with a fine comb.

MCP has posed:
Black lacquered wooden walls, the wraparound table, the mechanic's workshop is windowless and spartan. The sunken lighting of the rest of the complex is further shielded here by a thick frosted screen so that the light is even further diffuse. To a less than thorough examination this would easily disguise the scars and gouges that mark the walls.

The lacquer deviates in it's machine precision in a few places on the left wall and the righthand corner near the floor. Slight depressions filled and painted over from whatever state this room was in before it was occupied. "ECHO was right in saying you weren't exactly the strong, silent type."

LANCER pulls a tool over to him, sitting down and reaching into the lightframe to manipulate the individual pieces. "And uh-- yeah, until SARK sentenced him to the games for something that wasn't at his functionary discretion. Then things got nasty. Ask SHRIKE if you want to know the rest of that file-- if you can get it from him. AESIP's the one you can't get to shut down sometimes."

LANCER smirks. "A class of program that I also fit neatly into."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF chuckles softly and grins. It was a normal grin honestly. "Yeah. Strong I am, silent-- I don't think that is in my programming." He says with then another laugh. "You don't learn nothing if your not willing to ask.. even if that asking also includes.. searching." He frowns a little at that small reminder to himself.

"Comes with being originally an interface program." CHIEF then says softly as his eyes at last glance over to LANCER once more. The tid bit about the games is-- still confusing to CHIEF, he didn't really understand it. "SARK is some kinda game master?" Point proven that CHIEF really isn't from the normal grid right here. "Either way, I guess I will-- and what do you mean by not shutting down? You mean like-- not cycling down to go into a rest cycle?"

MCP has posed:
"Maybe I do need a translation protocol."

LANCER says this ruefully as he looks up from what he is doing, his hands still move and he continues to work while talking. "Look. Compressing a long string. SARK used to be Master Control's right hand man. Except he wanted to be the main program, not just a sideline. The games were what happened to you if you broke the rules, or if you tried to take down the system, or-- well." he tics, hand jumping and causing a cascade failure. "Oh. Frag me do what I mean, not what I do."

he quickly gets it under control again by taking his eyes off CHIEF and focusing on the problem for awhile. He /whacks/ the cycle with a hand in frustration as it continues to whirl and beep and the alarms stop. He gets ahead of the failure and sews it back up again.

"AESIP doesn't downcycle, and he goes on and on when he's got you in his sights. Programmed to be operational at all times so-- maybe he does that to fill it." he shrugs one shoulder and goes back to what he was doing.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF winces a little at the little oops done by LANCER, realizing slowly that this little Q/A session may not be so great when this program has work to do, but if he was /good/, this shouldn't be hard right? Besides, what else was he going to do? See how many spiders he could lock onto in the building?

"As for translation. Negative. Just.." CHIEF glances off to the side. "..hard to remember all the language." He rests his head back against the wall. "Terms changed over the cycles and updates. Some still used, some rectified for newer phrases." He opens his eyes and inhales deeply in his own thoughts. Before kicking off the wall and giving a shrug of his shoulders. "I can remember times like that, not shutting down. I don't recall the exact details, but sometimes users liked the push us. See how long we could last before we would fall onto ourselves. Typically the drone operator program would go out first, so for the rest of us-- that was that!"

"Though when I was modified to control ground drones, I-- don't think they gave me a shut off switch." He almost cackles, almost. It was a controlled one; sad one. His gold eyes flicker slightly before he closes them. "Yeah, you guys are an interesting group. So since you all got your skills-- where does ECHO sit in all this?" He looks over to LANCER once more. "Does the MCP just like her? She was a pilot program and from what I guess, you guys are not exactly up on the specs to have such things, /yet/. Though I can imagine the usefulness once.. if ever.. your system gets upgraded to that level."

MCP has posed:
LANCER slowly looks over at CHIEF, face impassive as he listens to the military program. He then turns back to what he was doing and does so in silence for a minute or so.

"She's tough enough to figure something out. ECHO's got her own ticket here. Anyways, it's always the drone operator. They always go first." He then peers quizzically at CHIEF. "Wait. You worked with ECHO right? --AND worked with ground drones?" He blinks several times as if this statement doesn't parse correctly in his head.

He's interrupted by a tonal series and a very dry voice. "Ah. LANCER.. you haven't finished yet? My. How the mighty have fallen." LANCER pauses and then laughs, scratching his forehead as his shoulders shake. "Yeah yeah. Blame Sybil over here. Whatcha need..boss?"

"CHIEF, I require your attention for a few moments if you have it. It may profit you."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF was about to answer the question regarding how the two worked, but it seems MCP's voice comes over the line and the military program raises a brow. He hrms softly and glances over to LANCER, "We did work together, but I don't remember much in detail. Just that.. she is.. important. Somehow." His gold eyes look distant for a moment before he snaps too. He then starts to head for the door as he speaks, "It will be a story for later perhaps."

"Anyhow, thanks for answering the queries and sorry for holding up your progress with them." CHIEF remarks as he raises up his hand and then starts to head out. Time to go see what the big, bad, administrator wants.