AEDOLIS > Margad

An Unusual Suspect (Lion)

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Cheesigator:
It had become a recent hobby of Imogen's lately to use technology to their advantage in a way most couldn't. Nearly every corner of Aedolis (with some exceptions in lower class neighborhoods) was outfitted with cameras, and a good chunk of those were from the famous Imogen Innovations. Most of them had holographic projecting capabilities--mainly because it was convenient, and in this case, it absolutely was.

Using the digital scan they possessed of their own body, Imogen could tap into these cameras to create nearly seamless projections of themself. They couldn't physically leave their office, but they could at the very least still experience the outside world through a strange hybrid simulation mixed into reality.

After their recent encounters with Sulli and Desi, as well as their curious escapades in the chat rooms online, they were starting to feel brave enough to actually "venture" into the real world, so to speak. And today they decided they wanted to try out Margad, the bright city full of greenery and flowers--absolutely nothing like the Haviah they knew so well.

Of course they'd seen pictures and videos of it online, and they knew none of these could beat the real thing. But this was the closest they would ever get--a visual simulation using live security camera footage that they then processed into one 360° feed and funneled through where they calculated their eyes would be if they were there physically.

It would probably be extremely disorienting for someone not used to it, because they were essentially experiencing three realities at once: 1) The reality of their physical being tucked safely away in their high security office, 2) The awareness of every security camera and what it was seeing live as it was seeing it from a third person view, and 3) The collected data from said security cameras to essentially put themself in a live video game version of reality that could tangibly interact with the real world.

Today Imogen was "dressed" in a common default outfit sold by II for their lines of household droids: light grey pants and a light grey scrub-like short sleeve shirt with the II logo embroidered over the heart. If anyone asked, they were running errands for their master. Maybe they would stop by a flower shop at some point! Not like they could physically pick anything up, but they could always pay for it and send someone else to come get it later... Maybe. Or would that be weird for a droid to do that? Ugh, they had no idea--

It was in the middle of their pondering as they walked down the street that they heard a crash and a scream; instinctively they looked in the direction it had come from but they could already see via the camera feeds that it was a common thief; he had broken out of the store window of a small boutique and was making off with armloads of jewelry and expensive clothing.

Like so many others on the street, they stood there in shock, wondering what they should do or who to call--or if they should do anything at all. This was a lower-middle class neighborhood after all, this kind of thing wasn't unheard of. But to see it in person, Imogen just stared and watched through the feeds as the criminal made his escape down an alley into the back door of a warehouse.

Lion:
Sasha was already having a bad day. His cruiser was having a bad day. He nearly lost his sidearm and he hadn't slept in at least twenty-six hours. A steady diet of coffee, beef jerky, and some convenience store hot dogs wasn't sitting well with him. The grease was making him sleepy but he forced himself to stay awake.

It was a warm day in Margad, the sun was out and shining, and the verdant greens were supremely vibrant. At least it was a beautiful day. He couldn't complain about that. He'd have plenty of other opportunities for that later. For now, he'd get on his way and hope his cruiser didn't decide to become roadkill along the way.

He wasn't a Pilot. There was no 'best for the best and no less' mentality for military police. Let alone the Inspectors. The best his precinct had gotten was hand-me-down equipment from ten years ago that was already rapidly outdated. He wasn't going to complain. Not until his sargeant yelled at him for not reporting on his stake out for another day. He didn't have a partner so going it alone was always an unpleasant risk.

Sasha drove out and was tempted to buy another back of hot dogs at the shop on the corner. But stopped when there was a sudden scream. The echo between buildings funneled it multiple directions and he stopped to see if there was anything visible in his vicinity. No chance. The people were looking around just as confused as he was.

He got out and kept his eyes peeled, jogging toward the corner where he thought the noise had come from and as he turned, he saw someone running on the opposite side of the street. Instinct kept his muscles taught and he sprung forth through the crowd.  "STOP! Police!" he shouted.


"MOVE!" he panted, keeping his eyes in the direction he thought the suspect ran in, and brushed through a cluster of bodies, stopping short of a parked vehicle. And then they were gone.

"FUCK!" he hissed and people parted from around him, not wanting anything to do with what just happened. "Did anyone see where that person ran!? Anyone!?"

Of course, what he should have done was call for backup.

Cheesigator:
Shockingly quickly there was another commotion and Imogen saw it through the camera feed before turning to face it--an exasperated and probably exhausted looking man in uniform trying to push through a crowd of startled onlookers; oh, a policeman.

Truth be told, Imogen often didn't think of policemen and typically forgot they existed, as did most citizens, they reckoned. All this society cared about were the big shots--the elite, the powerful, the impressive, the beautiful Pilots.

If anyone knew how underfunded, understaffed and underserved policemen were, it would be Imogen, as they almost never dealt directly with the police in regards to equipment and business; rather they often saw the government dealings after the fact of exchanged weaponry as Pilots got all the latest and greatest, and the hand-me-downs went to the police.

A pang of sympathy tugged at their would-be heart strings and they instinctively raised a hand; they had seen what happened, maybe they could help?

"Uh-uh I did, sir."

Upon catching his attention and getting to see him up close as he walked towards them they realized that he was rugged but handsome, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he was ready to throw in the towel.

"S-Suspect name Jemorrah R. Porosi, wanted for petty theft and one account of arson, 22, lives at 4563 North Arbor Street. He took a right into that alley and an immediate left through the backdoor of the warehouse building, has a dumpster on either side and a flickering light even though it's daytime, and before the door closed he turned and went down a set of stairs into the basement."

They would have smiled if they could, because that was totally helpful, right? Everything he would need to catch the criminal and then some! :D

Lion:
Of course, his day could never be routine. People were crazy, running off into fuck all nowhere making big commotions, interrupting his lunch time. It was a beautiful day, why couldn't they be out walking their dog or just taking a nap instead of being up to no good. Didn't they know he was deadass tired? Didn't they know he just wanted to go home, drown in some beer, and passout with cheesy chip dust on his fingers?

These scum were so selfish.

He sighed, sure no one else was going to make his life any easier when someone spoke up. He was about ready to pop his own head clean off. Oh, all right. Let's get this over with.

Sasha peered at the robot that was speaking, a slender strange thing that seemed out of place on this street, at this time of day, in this city. Margad was by no means a poor man's city, but this wasn't Haviah. Fancy machinery walking about on its lonesome wasn't the usual order of the day.

And here this one was just spitting out information that Sasha, being as tired as he was, hardly could absorb all of it. He just blinked stupidly at them. "I'm sorry, what?" he managed to spit out, feeling like the top part of his head was unscrewing like a mason jar.

"Can you back that up just a wee bit? You're talking at me. Talk to me, son? Child? Robob. One more time."

Cheesigator:
There was a good few seconds of silence that went on between robot and man and Imogen suddenly felt very uncomfortable and didn't quite know what to do or if they should... Say... Something?

When he did finally speak they were still just as confused. Talk at? Talk to?

Was there a difference?

They did a few quick searches and absorbed the information, realizing that he was having a hard time understanding and they didn't actually include him on the conversation. But he was a police officer, this wasn't a casual conversation... Should they have?

"I..." They stared at him hopelessly for a few moments, not quite sure if they repeated themself if he might get angry. But they didn't know what else to do, so they just repeated what they said, but slower this time.

"My facial recognition scan recognized the suspect as Jemorrah R. Porosi, wanted previously for petty theft and one account of arson." They paused for a moment, looking down and fidgeting awkwardly with their fingertips.

"He is 22, and lives at 4563 North Arbor Street."

They looked up and pointed in the direction they were talking about, over the police officer's shoulder. "He took a right into that alley and an immediate left through the backdoor of the warehouse building, has a dumpster on either side of the door and a flickering light. He turned and went down a set of stairs into the basement."

Was that better? They hoped so, and went back to fidgeting though this time they tried to maintain eye contact. They thought this would be easier.

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