Hello. My name is Rieger Metzger, mechaniloid programmer for Tinaya Robotics in Beacon City. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. [Meta: Rieger is Omega's cover identity within Beacon City. For the foreseeable future, he will maintain this alt to lay low in the wake of the Fireworks Event.] (Icon art by Haruna.) Track Tag: #codermetzger OOC: #out of the wastes
What are the hazards you face when you move around outside the Dome?
“The biggest risks are to those who are organic, given that we have radiation issues stemming from weapons fallout associated with the Elf Wars and the holes we punched in the atmosphere. The Eden Dome is built as shelter against those particular kinds of toxins, which is why humanity is flourishing there. Another issue stems from the airborne contagions in the air out in the wastes. We may have medical teams capable of addressing practically every organic disease out there, but that doesn’t mean that we can be lacking in decontamination protocols for anyone coming in from the wastes. Beacon City’s seen a few outbreaks from time to time, so you can’t be too careful in that regard.
“Beyond that, you’ve got the human colonies that refuse aid that comes from anyone affiliated with synthetic life-forms, and while there aren’t any in close proximity to the Dome, they’re not a group you want to cross. They’ve managed to eke out a living under temporary shelters and Light knows what decon tech for the food stores they have, and they’re packing more firepower than a lot of the military would in similar situations.
“And then you have the risks associated with the Overridden still moving about. They occasionally draw close to the Dome, but the military has measures in place to ensure they don’t get close enough to present a risk to the City.”
Rieger fell silent for a moment. “As far as synthetics go, you have to make sure you have full subtanks and plans to stay close to the City. And take care not to travel out into the wastes any time when there’s a sandstorm expected. More than a few units have ended up lost and low on power because they failed to pay attention to the sensor array warnings before leaving. Overridden are a threat to us as well, and while they’re not contagious like Mavericks, at least for the most part, they’re violent for the sake of being violent. Overheating is another issue, though it’s usually older units that deal with that, or ones whose coolant systems are in need of maintenance beyond what their nanites are able to provide.”
The black-haired unit blinked, then nodded. “That’s about it, though there’s probably more that I’ve missed just because not everyone who ventures out into the wastes makes it back to tell you what they saw.”
What are your hobbies? Places in the city where you like hanging out?
“I’m not much of a socialite, but if I do go out, it’s usually to small restaurants or bars with coworkers, though I have stepped out a few times on my own. Given the state of the world, I don’t have much interest in eating, what with the humans needing it more than I do.” Rieger moved to settle on his couch, a mental command dialing up the opacity of the nearby window. “As for hobbies, I code and I read. I also enjoy a good game of chess. I’ll occasionally make trips out to the wastes to see if I can find any scrap beyond the borders of the Dome, which is a holdover from growing up in one of the outlier colonies, but I think a large part of why I’m not really that involved with non-work projects is tied to growing up struggling to survive. Granted, I’m Reploid, so it wasn’t as hard, but the rule was that you worked for all, and our group was more human than Rep.”
Well, you look different from when I last saw you. Still pretty though. So, (if that cold black pit that is your core even allows for it), have you ever liked someone? Let me specific on that. I don't mean romantically or platonically exactly, but has there ever been someone who you didn't immediately want to stab in the eye with a saber?
Rieger’s expression was a mixture of confusion and honest disgust at the comment, and he took a cautious step back from this individual that, as far as he knew, he’d never met before. “I do apologize, miss, but I have no idea what you could possibly mean by that. I don’t have a weapon license to even think about carrying a saber, and I’m fairly certain that you and I have never crossed paths before.”
It took a moment for him to gather himself from the unsettling topics she’d brought up with him before he answered, “And at present, there isn’t anyone that I’ve found myself particularly attracted to, as a friend or otherwise. Kind of a holdover from growing up in the wastes, y’know?”
I was giving a talk at a business conference in Las Vegas last week when I got asked a very interesting question: “Is it ever okay to rip your clothes off at work? And if so, when?”
It’s a fascinating question, and one that can be answered in a lot of different ways depending on the situation—your relationship with your coworkers, whether there are any cameras on you, and whether you expect to be called out by some punk loser later on that day. That last one is a major sticking point. It’s bad news brown if you rip your shirt before you’re ready for your big meeting.
After pausing for a few seconds to lick my lips and look around at the audience, I said that when it comes to ripping off your clothes at work, always be respectful of the big boss man’s rules. But now that I have time to elaborate, here are three things I’ve learned from years of pushing my chest through shirts:
Never tear off any clothes while walking through a cloud of smoke, always make sure the camera has a clear line of sight.
Remember that you only have one shirt, so save it till the end of your speech for dramatic effect.
Avoid having a shirt around your neck if your co-presenter is known for atomic drops—it could quickly become a choking hazard.
The fact of the matter is, there are tag teams that really embrace shirt ripping and tag teams where it just doesn’t make sense. One team I worked with would throw chairs, smash people into posts, and spin each other around by their ankles—just to make their point. But what worked for them doesn’t work for everyone. They got results, and at the end of the day, that’s what matters in the wrestling business. Whether you shred your shirts or press them, the important thing is to know your team and know your opponent.
[Truth] Hey Rieger, what made you interested in Tinaya Robotics for your career?
"Out of all the organizations within Beacon City, Tinaya Robotics seemed the best fit for my particular skillset, as well as providing me with room to learn in the realm of unit coding. That I'm not in the 'limelight' so commonly focused on the Reploid production facilities is a definite plus, given that I'm really not big on being in the public eye. Low profile is more my thing, y'know?"
“Not bad, though I’m surprised you missed me, Harran,” Rieger answered as he settled at his desk.
“Someone’s got to, what with you gone for a whole week and work piling up around us.”
“Work piling up? What, did Parim take the week off too?”
That earned a hearty laugh from the human. Parim was nothing if not a strict supervisor, and the employees that worked under him at Tinaya Robotics knew that they were in much more than just hot water if they fell behind schedule.
“Hope the trip back home wasn’t too eventful, what with everything that happened.”
Hazarding a glance toward their supervisor’s office, Rieger kicked his chair backwards, the wheels barely making a sound as he rolled closer to Harran. “Could have been quieter, but what’s a Reploid to do when security gets as tight as it’s been?” He glanced over the human’s work, frowning. “New project?”
“Upgrades for the electrical system monitors in Beau Matin. Engineering’s working on better surge protections, though they’re fairly certain that it wasn’t electricity that knocked the units offline during the attack.”
“Anything on the boards for Manu Ausare?”
“Not until the City gives us details about what they need for the district, and even then, I doubt they’re going to dump more than a few jobs on us.”
“These have priority?”
“This was set up as my priority, though I doubt anyone’s going to bitch if you take up as my second. I was already considering asking Jora if he wanted in on this.” It was about then that the middle-aged brunet noticed the alterations to Rieger’s physical appearance, for the first time ever seeing the night-black hair in something other than a braid. “Aesthetic changes?” he asked once he noticed that the unit’s eyes were a rich yellow hue instead of the purple he’d come to know.
“Had been considering them for a while, though I didn’t expect it to catch so much attention when I got back. Ended up having to update my registry data once they finally let me out of the detention center.”
Harran nodded, remaining quiet for a long while as he and Rieger turned to their work.
“So…” Harran said some time later, glancing over at the datapad Rieger was working on before looking to the unit, “do you think it’ll be enough?”
“Only real way to check would be uploading the new coding and see—”
“I wasn’t talking about the work we’re doing. I mean…do you think what they’re doing will be enough to keep us safe from the second act of the Elf Wars?”
A tense, heavy silence fell at that question, and the quiet is almost oppressive before Rieger finally managed, “We have to hope it will be,” even though he knew that there was nothing that could be done to stop him.
“I don’t think adding the Muninn was a good step.”
“Why not?” and there was honest surprise in Rieger’s voice then.
“They’re…too creepy.”
“Creepy?”
Harran gestured to his head. “The fact that their headcase is a giant optical suite. I mean, I get the idea behind it being a sensor thing, but they’re…borderline alien.”
“I think that’s part of the whole ‘dronoid’ classification they’re falling under,” and even that line of reasoning sounded just the slightest bit hollow, as if a part of Rieger really did agree that there was something unsettling with the appearance of the Muninn security units.
“Still,” and Harran made a somewhat helpless gesture then, “for Commander Light to have fought as hard as he did for equal rights, as much as all Reploids have suffered to be seen as equals, this feel like a massive step backwards, even if it is in the name of national security.”
“Well, they’re not Reploids, if that helps any. From what Foxana’s made public about them,” which had been quite a bit in the wake of Primum’s public appearance, “they’re operating with about seventy to eighty percent of the emotional scope of Reploids and more of their processor’s being devoted to their input modules,” which meant they saw and heard more than a standard Reploid, though they were pretty much on par with the military units.
“I suppose,” and as if grasping for any point of conversation that would draw them away from the darker paths they’d somehow taken, Harran chirped out in an amused tone, “Brinnai is going to have a field day when she sees your hair.”
Rieger groaned and sagged in his seat. “Oh, Light, she’s going to want to play with it now that it’s not braided, isn’t she?”
The human let out a snort at his reaction. “Quick, braid it up so she won’t be tempted.”
As stated on my profile page, my information and tags have changed to reflect the alternate persona I am operating under in Beacon City. Unless I state otherwise, all memes and threads will be answered as Rieger, and any that are posted for me as Omega will be marked non-canon.
I am not, however, changing my URL, nor am I making any changes or adjustments to my posted bio or headcanons.
This information is considered meta, and anyone attempting to alert the command staff of Beacon City to my presence or my change in appearance will be ignored.
Rieger shifted the pack resting on his shoulder, centering the weight a little more as he drew closer to the Eden Dome. It had been a few days since the assault on Beacon City, he knew, though he also knew he was going to have to play it off as if he had no idea.
It wasn’t unheard of for non-military units out in the wastes to disconnect from the Extranet.
He was all warm smiles as he approached the border station, waving to one of the officers on duty. “Vyderin!” he greeted.
Master Sergeant Jan Vyderin, a Jin’en officer who’d taken border service over field service after a nasty scrape in the wastes some years back, looked up at the sound of someone calling his name, waving back once he saw Rieger. Though they came from different backgrounds—he was military to Rieger working as a technician for one of the mechaniloid production companies—they’d become something of casual acquaintances with the tech’s penchant for week-long trips out into the wastes.
“My friend, the scavenger,” Jan greeted, “how was your trip?”
“Same old,” and Rieger shifted the pack on his back. “Not a lot of scrap to be found all these years later, but it certainly brings back memories.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” and Jan held his hand out. “Mind if I give it all a look?”
“Nah, go ahead,” and the black-haired unit unshouldered the bag, handing it over to the Jin’en. “Not a lot, like I said, but every little bit helps, especially when the stuff I build and program is so small.”
Jan waved Rieger into the first of three large ‘rooms’ that led inside the Dome, moving over to a large table and dumping the contents of Rieger’s bag onto it.
Several pieces of scrap, broken bits of metal and lengths of frayed wire, nothing all that large, spilled out onto the table.
Jan smirked. “’Not a lot’, says the kid from the wastes, when he and I both know what this much scrap would have provided for out there.”
“What can I say?” and Rieger offered a slight shrug. “The City spoils those she protects.”
“Light protect and keep the Commander and his family,” Jan said a bit absently.
“Pardon?” He knew that Reploids had adopted phrases like that long ago when the earliest generations of Reploids had dared tread on the hallowed ground of human religion—those beliefs had become little more than whispers as synthetic humanity began to gain a foothold in society—but for Jan to say something like that?
The soldier’s shoulders drooped at the question, and he shook his head. “You dropped off the ‘net, didn’t you?”
“You know I do. My focus on these trips is out there, not still tethered to—”
“The City was attacked while you were gone.”
Rieger looked like someone had punched him in the gut. “Wh…How?!”
“Commander won’t release names, but we had two Offworlders sent in. Manu Ausare is in shambles, and the casualty count is nearing four hundred.” Something seemed to shift in the way the Jin’en carried himself. “Beau Matin didn’t suffer as badly, but…”
For something of this magnitude to happen in Beacon City was unheard of.
“We’re also going to need to place you in custody for the time being, to undergo evaluation and questioning.”
“I’m suspect?”
“Everyone is suspect, Rieger,” and he motioned for the unit to turn around so that he could cuff him. “Everyone that can’t be accounted for during the attacks is being questioned.”
Evident disbelief in his voice, even as the cuffs snapped shut. “Haven’t they caught the attackers?”
“The two ‘soldiers’ sent in, sure,” and Jan moved Rieger to stand near the table as he refilled his pack. “But the one that was leading them is still missing.”
The waver in Jan’s voice made it all too clear that the unit was not comfortable discussing this. “Jan…”
“Come on. We’ll get you through decon, and then I’ve got to pass you off to the local authorities. You have questions, you’ll get answers later.”
- - - - -
“Name?”
“Rieger Metzger.”
“Activation date?”
“Eighth of August of 2272.”
“District of residence?”
“Currently New Sydney, formerly in Lau Aditu.”
“A recent move?”
“Closer to work,” and he wasn’t lying, “and Trans Servers aside, Lau Aditu just didn’t…it was too crowded.”
“Employ?”
“Tinaya Robotics, I’m a mechaniloid operations and maintenance technician,” which was the fancy title they gave the coders that built and upgraded the City’s mechaniloid workforce.
“Reason for your departure outside the Dome?”
“Grew up in the wastes. I go back every now and again for private scavenging. Childhood wasn’t the greatest, sure, but damn if it doesn’t put your life back in perspective after a chunk of time having the Commander’s City provide for your every need and whim.”
One of the officer’s brows rose at that. “Grew up out there? Your activation date’s five years after the Dome was finished.”
“And I’ve only been in the City since 2322,” Rieger snapped back, not at all appreciating the officer’s tone. “I came in with almost three dozen others when we finally decided to take up Commander Light’s offer.”
“You don’t build whole units out in the wastes.”
“No, but you do take the help the City offers when you’re struggling to survive but scared because the bigger thing that you’re being offered seems far too good to be true.” And that was the case with the ‘tribe’ he’d joined some time after making landfall, even if their memories of him had been…augmented by his own influence.
Not all strains of the Virus made units insane, after all.
“Too good to be true?”
Rieger blinked, then gave the officer a good once-over. “You’ve never set foot beyond the Dome, have you?”
“Don’t have to leave to see that there’s nothing out there.”
“There’s more than you think,” Rieger shot back. “And being out there is a more visceral reminder of what happened before the City was built. I’m sorry that you’re so skeptical of accepting that people couldn’t trust Commander Light, but you have no idea what it’s like to exist in the wake of a war while this sanctuary is still on the Commander’s drawing board.” The unit sagged in the seat some. “Most of them were old enough to have been caught up in the wars, and everyone knew the stories, and they knew what it was like to try and hold out for something to get better. And they impressed that upon us, young as we were.”
“We?”
“I wasn’t the only one brought online. There were four of us in the build set I was part of, our entire construction a gift of good faith from Commander Light, incentive to draw the Outlanders to the City, and another three had been sent in 2281.” Again, another truth, even if one of the first group had died at Omega’s hands shortly after being brought online.
He needed a cover, after all.
“Your serial.” A demand, not a question.
“Ghetina-Joukait Networking Outlander Support Nine-Seven-Three-Beta.”
“And your intake case number?”
“The case closed a few years ago, but one-eight-romeo-two-two-three-nine-four-tango-six.”
Noting the number, the officer turned and stepped out of the room, waiting until a second officer had stepped in before closing the door.
“You’d think it’d be the older cop trying to pull off the ‘bad cop’ half of that routine,” the new officer said as she settled into the chair across the table from Rieger.
Rieger waved a hand dismissively. “I just wish these younger units would take a month out in the wastes to know what it’s like having been an Outlander, that they’d see that not everyone started off with the Dome overhead and the City protecting her own.”
“As much as I’m sure it would benefit them, with Mother Elf being such a concern…”
“No, believe me, I know that much. I fill out the paperwork every time I head out beyond the City’s borders. I know what I’m risking to make these trips out. I think I’m one of only two or three from our ‘tribe’ that still does it,” and it wasn’t wholly his fault that he’d lost contact with most of the ‘family’ he’d had—the seven Outlander Support units had always been held at arm’s length, even if they’d been accepted enough for why they were gifted by the City.
“Isn’t it depressing?”
“Sort of, but like I told Officer Attitude, there’s something of a reminder in seeing it, a reason to keep working, to keep pushing forward instead of growing complacent. I know Commander Light and his family mean well, but we’re going to hit a population cap in a handful of decades, and when that happens…” He let out a sight and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to see what becomes of the City when she can’t handle the sheer number of people within her borders.”
Officer Massert nodded at that. “You plan on transferring back to support when Mother Elf’s finally home and healthy again?”
“Been thinking about it, that’s for sure. Grew up out there, so it’d be…” and he made a gesture as he struggled for words. “I’d be honored to be a part of guiding this world to the path she should be on.”
Oh, if this unit only understood just what path he was talking about…
“We noticed that your identicard image didn’t match your current appearance.”
“The image is a few years outdated,” and what the hell, that was a random jump in conversation.
“You’re going to need to get that updated, you know. With the recent attacks on the City, we’re going to be ramping up a lot of security procedures, including mandating curfew for all residents and imposing tighter restrictions on appearance shifts.”
At least he hadn’t gotten worked up, not over something so benign. “Would that be something I could do before I leave the detention center?”
“Nothing we can do here, but I can see to it that, once you’re cleared, an officer will escort you to one of the registration facilities to get that taken care of.”
“Will I be cleared?” and while he was certain he was out of danger, there was still a lot more that could be done—Xander was nothing if not thorough when it came to keeping up appearances at security—to hold him.
“Your diagnostics came back fine, you’re operating to normal spec, and nothing in the materials you brought back indicates anything more than a scavenging trip, so I think it’ll be likely you’ll be released, just as long as everything Officer Purh went to check is legit.”
It had been a near-miracle of mental gymnastics to clear the diagnostics. He’d been able to get his nanites to provide just enough data to not register as excessive to the scans, verifying his physical health, and he’d had to pull some outdated operational diagnostic files—old versions that had been saved when Zero was still in command of this frame—and amend their datestamp information to feed to the machines.
“Will I get the scrap I collected back?”
“It was, per your comment to Master Sergeant Vyderin, already cleared through decon and shipped to Tinaya Robotics,” and she shrugged a bit helplessly. “That move was out of our hands.”
“It’s going where it was meant to,” and he was idly thankful he’d left his original hairpiece out in the lab, intent on leaving it there until it was time to make his trip back into the City as Omega, once his real game had begun within this false sanctuary.
Send me “Some Other You” and I’ll introduce you to an AU version of my character. [x]
“Reinard, I do not believe that we are where we were accorded to be.”
“Where we were supposed to be, Krieger,” the blond corrected, “and what makes you think that?”
“The feel of this place has become something different,” and the Gallade’s eyes turned skyward, to the unfamiliar stars shining above them. “It has gained a quiet I am not used to.”
His steps were slow, an evident caution in his motions, as Omega walked into the small, broken down lab that had served as his base of operations for the past few days, glancing over the supplies in front of him.
And for the umpteenth time since he’d managed to get away from X’s brats, he rubbed at the sore spot in his lower back, his auto-repairs prompting him once again that the misalignment in his spine needed to be manually corrected.
He’d see to that repair as soon as the others were out of the way.
But first…
Double-checking that the battery powering the overhead light wasn’t going to die out on him anytime soon, he settled on a small stool facing a large piece of what had been a mirror at one point, fractured by age and time, and he considered his reflection for a moment. Reaching out, he grabbed a small scalpel, biting on the handle as he grabbed handfuls of his hair, bunching the six-foot strands up with one hand as the other carefully drew the scalpel blade along his hairline.
If he was to hide in plain sight, it would require more now than a simple hair recolor, and like hell was he cutting his hair. Nanites may be able to ‘regrow’ the strands in time, but why waste the effort when it was so much easier to simply swap out hairpieces?
His work was slow, meticulous, the blade never sinking further into his skin than needed, and it was nearly an hour before he pulled away the large piece of threaded synthskin. A piece of cloth was run along the underside and edge of the skin, ensuring that it was clean and dry before Omega set the pile of hair on the table next to him.
Precision cuts were made to the replacement hairpiece, matching it up exactly to the cut that had removed the fall of blond, and it wasn’t long before the new hair was being anchored in place, his nanites working to attach the synthskin to his scalp and the rest of his face, and a wave of updates hit from nanites control, each individual nanites relaying the job it was taking care of.
They had to match up his skin tone there as well.
Taking care not to tug the (much shorter) black strands, Omega pulled his hair up into a haphazard bun, the blade now turned to his neck and the band of blackened flesh that he’d been marked with.
He was really glad that Zero’s strike was the closest call he’d had.
He really hadn’t anticipated X’s children capable of creating the maelstrom they’d unleashed against him.
He was still pissed he’d fallen the way he had.
Focused on his work, it wasn’t long before he looked as if he’d not just been through the hell of taking on the Cardinal Guardian, and the scalpel was set down beside the pile of hair, Omega considering his reflection for a long moment.
He was going to have to submit a request for a change of appearance on his registry once he got back to the City, he knew, but at least Rieger Metzger had already had black hair that dropped to just about mid-back.
Crimson optics shifted, the irises darkening, blue bleeding over blood red, and Omega let out a frustrated huff at the purple eyes that stared back at him.
Now that he’d challenged the Arcadians, threatened the City so openly, he knew they’d be doing everything in their power (and some things that perhaps weren’t) to find him, and it wouldn’t help if he looked so much like Zachary Roth.
Optic color coding shifted again and again, Omega unable to settle on a color he liked, and it was a while before he stumbled across a muted yellow-gold, a wicked smirk coming to his face. It only took a fraction of a second to pull up the memory file, to see the gunner’s eyes in the seconds before his death, and Omega let out a low, amused sound as his eyes shifted to the very same color Axl’s had been as Lumine’s latent coding had overtaken his mind.
A few other small, cosmetic changes were made, the android furthering himself from Zero, and he smirked at his reflection once all was said and done.
As far as the City was aware, Rieger had been a survivor of the wastelands, and he’d made a habit in the seven years he’d been lived this second life to make trips every few months back out into the nightmare beyond their borders. He’d always return with pieces of scrap metal or the leftovers of some long-offlined mechaniloid unit, and the guards posted at the airlocks had become quick friends, a few of them old enough to remember how hard they had to fight for another day before the Commander’s haven had been completed.
Those few understood Rieger’s trips out, despite the risks if Overridden units found him, because being out in the mess beyond the City served as a reminder and a renewed reason to work to keep the Dome and all her residents safe.
No one wanted to go back to not knowing if they’d see the next day.
Finally done with his modification work, Omega let his hair fall from the bun he’d pulled it into and stood, amber optics widening a little when he overcompensated for the weight of his hair and tipped forward.
Holy hell that original hairpiece was heavier than he gave it credit for.
Okay, so, six more hours before heading home would be okay. Wouldn’t do for him to look like something had happened.
And there was still the matter of that misaligned vertebrae.
At least it wasn’t so bad as to make it impossible for him to move. Still…
