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ORPG Original and detailed RPs for the experienced and ambitious RPer.

 
 
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Old 05/20/2009   #1
Channy
Default Destrillians: The Awakening of a New Breed

…the sky was blue…
……birds were chirping in the willow trees……
…children were singing…
……the barn at the far end of the neighbor’s field was a dull red……
…children were dancing…
……she had played there often……
…this is the way the world ends…
……her mother was alive… but her father had died recently……
…this is the way the world ends…
……rain clouds were on the horizon……
…not with a bang…
……but with a whimper……

Sierra sobbed silently in her cryogenic slumber. She was alone in her prison. The sensors blinked as a recorder scribbled down her fluctuating mental state onto a roll of smooth, white paper. Outside the tube, the room was mostly dark. A few lamp lights were still on. A panel of buttons glittered like constellations in the bleak night sky.

3…

Her eyelids fluttered and she threatened to open them. The salt water burnt though, and even in this state of unconscious rest, she knew not to open them. Sierra shook in her warm liquid. Trembling as if she was entrenched in a nightmare. Suspended two feet from the floor on a large steel table in the center of the room, her toes wiggled. It was an unconscious action.

The human mind was a wondrous thing. It often acted on impulse totally astounding the doctors and scientists at the ward. They mused together if they could find a way to enslave her permanently; to direct every action conducted, every thought construed, every emotion under control. But the mind, no matter how it was probed and molested, would never fully be understood.

The attribute screen was dimly lit. White. The text was orange. It was hard to read.

884672-01
Destrillian Prototype # 000-000-001
Sierra Lutraine
Heaven’s Hope
Sub-outlet 3423a
Age: 18 years: 2 months: 4 days: 10 hours: 56 minutes: 23 seconds
Hyper-rest 23 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 10
Dr. Syn Panyon ext. 9
Log: 24


The log turned to 25 a few moments later. Sierra was trembling now. However, the sensors attached to her arms and head were not reading the fluctuation in her cerebral cortex. Something wasn’t right.

..25…

Error in Section 3
Recording
Alerting staff


An alarm tripped in the office down the hall. Two female nurses hurried out into the corridor and rushed to the room. The door slid open, and for a moment the light from beyond flooded in. The sliver of light touched down on Sierra’s chambers before vanishing completely. It was all she needed.

..15…

The two women pecked at the keys of a board for a moment, before finding themselves standing as Sierra’s feet. She wasn’t trembling anymore. The scanners had returned to 'normal' and it was as if nothing had transpired. The lights dimmed. The siren ceased. The guards outside waiting returned to their outposts.

The left nurse let out a relieved sigh. "We need to get that checked," she shuddered. "That's the second time in three weeks."

The tallest nurse turned and walked back into the hallway. The door closed behind her. The shorter more round nurse was standing there, still, looking at the young, nude girl in the tank. She felt sorry for her, for just an instance. She deserved so much more than this.

…..12..

Shaking her head she began to walk away and cast her blue hues forward, when there came a sound behind her. Chills slid along her spine, pricking the hairs on her back to stand on end. She thought to run for the door. It was as if a specter was standing behind her. She could sense something.

"Who is there?" she asked. She was a psychic. A paranormal. This was why she was hired here, in this wing, just like there was a paranormal assigned to every other Destrillian. She could feel full awareness. "Sierra?"

Sierra was still in her tube. Her left hand was twitching violently. The nurse approached the tube ever so slowly. A thickness filled the room and the air became cold. The faintest of noises sounded off in the distance, barely distinguishable despite the level of silence. She stopped short of the alarm button and peered down at the nude woman.

…21…..

The sound happened again. It was like... like, a faulty wire. A short. A low crackling sound that lasted for only a second. She was afraid now. Her abilities were screaming for her to punch the alarm, but she felt if she moved, something would grab her by the ankle or throw her down. "Sierra," she spoke and her breath hung in the air like death. "I can feel you. You are aware I am here."

Yes…

"Sierra, you know the staff will be mad if you begin to awaken. They will have to run more tests… more needles... more pain, Sierra."

No… No more pain.

The voice was in her head, yet, at the same time, it was not. It was here. It was there. It was in her soul. It was in the fetus that grew in her womb. It was in the saliva as she licked her dry lips clean. She was paralyzed in fear.

You have always been good to me, Stephanie…

The sound reverberated through the room again. The nurse cried. Sierra whimpered. The Grim Reaper was coming…

..27….

For a moment, Sierra dreamed... but it was foggy.

She remembered sitting on a woman's lap - her mothers. Yes. Her mothers lap. Rebecca. How had she forgotten her face and the smell of her body? She leaned back against her and listened to her read her verses from Revelations. She had spoken of the Grim Reaper that day... so very long ago.

The control panel near to the nurse’s outstretched hand began to crackle. A little puff of black, smoldering smoke rose from the panel and burned her eyes. Tears ran down her face. She screamed inside herself. She was unable to cry aloud!

Lightning flared from the panel and touched her fingertips. Flesh charred and the metal buttons on the front of her white uniform, burnt deep into her skin. It passed through her body and exited out her other hand. It leapt!

Two feet from the woman's flaming hand it touched the panel at the base of the cryo-tube. The glass tube became foggy at the bottom and began to rise. Small cracks formed at its base.

Error deleted
Malfunction
Circuit 7 delay
Reroute to 8


The LCD shattered.

…..1

The smoke alarms began to chime and the lights in the room automatically flipped on. A nurse down the hall jumped on the phone.

"Security to Cryogenics. Security to Cryogenics!"

The tube burst and the thick gel hung in the air for a split second before falling to the floor and leaving Sierra lying on the table. Her white hues snapped open. Steadily she sat up on the steel tabletop and the tingling sensation of a headache began to creep its way through her mind. She didn’t care to notice the shards of glass embedded in her back. She felt blinded but as the sunlight of her dream faded it revealed itself to be a steel room. She brought her hands up and cradled her face as small puddles of tears formed and slipped through her fingertips. Droplets fell warmly onto her legs.

This caught her attention as she brought her hands away from her face. Her interest shifted from one idea to another… Her back was in pain… Where was her mother… Who was the woman that voice belonged to, and where was she... But one pressing matter remained unshaken before her.

She was… free? She was free… She was free!

Sierra needed to know if it was a fluke or if her fellow Destrillians were free as well. So she sent out a message to the others, a warning, no, a notice. An invitation to each of them.

My comrades… For far too long we have been slaves… Pawns in this twisted game of chess… Now is our time… to awaken.
__________________

So, why do you come here?
Same as you, I think. I've been here a lot...
You must have a lot going on your mind, I suppose.
Yeah, but I'd rather have nothing for a change. How do you do it?
Well, it comes with practice. I can think of nothing.
I do not feel the need to occupy my mind with nonsense, just to avoid thinking about what really matters.


Last edited by Channy; 05/21/2009 at 08:31 PM.
Channy is offline  
Old 05/20/2009   #2
Shadow Rogue
Default

Eydin grunted with each lunge he mustered, throwing his body upward along the steep face of the rocky mountain. Each stretch of his arm caused his limb to tremble until his fingers dug into a hole and held fast, ready to yank the rest of the weight upward. He looked back with his sky blue eyes downward. They narrowed as he searched the origin of his ascent; the tree tops were barely visible now, only little green points keeping a guard against the long vertical road he took. He felt his stomach churn until he looked to someone closer. The face staring up at him with a smile, effortlessly following him. The image steeled his nerves and he began to climb with renewed energy. With a swing of his elbow onto a flat surface, he lurched his midsection onto the corner of a narrow walkway.

"I hope it's up here..." He murmured before kicking his leg along the corner and rolling onto the path. He laid on his side and dipped a hand down to his follower, looking into those eyes. What...color were they? His hand squeezed the soft skin that had worn smooth, and pulled her up to the same level. We're close, I know it. With careful balance, he stood up facing the wall and helped his accomplice up. Slowly, step by step, the waddled along the trail. "We'll be done soon, I promise!" He said enthusiastically, with the tone of already accomplishing what he had set out to do. The trail wrapped around the rockface, and sprouting from the stone way, a beautiful blossoming rose of the deepest red. It glistened with the dew it cherished so much in the harsh enviroment. The sun speckled it with bright glints of light from the moisture.

"There it is! It will be yours!" Eydin edged closer, stretching an arm out. The thorns threatened his hand, but that hand was undeterred. His fingers wrapped gingerly around the stem, thorns sticking out between knuckles and digits. He pulled the flower toward him, but it refused to yield it's stony perch. He gritted his teeth and yanked harder, feeling it snap only a few roots. "Give in, stubborn plant!" He growled before yanking outward. With a cloud of dusty dirt and shaking the dew onto Eydin's arm, it floated out into the open air along with it's captor's grip. There was a moment of absolute floating, the trophy now in Eydin's posession.

However, Eydin felt the steady pull of gravity as his feet lost purchase on the walkway. Those blue eyes widened in fear as he looked toward the girl who devotedly followed him the entire time. With a panicked look, he grasped out for him No, don't! Is all he thought before her fingers found purchase on his shirt. Eydin briefly halted in mid air before the weight tugged the girl head first with him. The screams sounded so far away. Her name, what is it?! Atleast know that! His mind raced as quick as they fell, trying to tell her something, something he wanted to say. To tell her to do something to save herself. I should have done this by myself... The screams of both of them gently echoed across the tree tops on their way down. Eydin felt a gentle pull toward the surface he was parallel to, or maybe it grows outward at the bottom, but his back began to be pelted with the jagged surface, sending him into a spin. He reached out for the girl, but she continued to fall, unhindered beneath him. "Ah! Ah!" Eydin noticed the large rock that was eye-level with him out of the corner of his eye during his wild spin. He knew he couldn't avoid it. He only cringed and wracked his brain for the name of the girl he had just doomed. "Aaaaaaah!"

"AAAAAAAAAALITAAAAA!!!" Eydin screamed in the midst of a torrent of wind, spiraling around his cold dark room. The faint buzz of the alarm was drowned out by the whipping gale. The emergency red lights twirled outside the hallway, casting glimpses of the scene around him. Eydin's wide tear-filled eyes tried to take in what was around him; bodies everywhere, bits of his cryo-cradle as he affectionately called it strewn about the room. Random body parts scattered into corners, and bloody smudges all around the room. The whirlwind soon died as Eydin came to consciousness. He was only briefly frozen in his bent over position before his head pulsed with a wave of pain that swept from the inside out to his skull. He winced, his sharp features trembling as he sobbed at the sudden headache. "Angh! Someone's definately fired..."

His eyes searched wildly until he found a dismembered arm gripping a pistol-looking syringe. "Oh-hoh! Just what the doctor ordered!" Eydin reached a quivering arm over to the syringe, while his vision blurred. "Come on, I look too good to have my head explode, grab the damn thing!" Clambering over the stiff fingers, he dragged the entire arm closer before prying the syringe free. You've gotten this thing a thousand times by now... it's at the neck... find the pulse.. he fingered his vein, feeling for the depression of where the needle had punctured it numerous times. "B-bingo..." He said, voice trembling.

He took a deep breath before stabbing his neck, and pulled the trigger. He could feel the pulse start to wane, forcing a drug-like sigh over his lips. "aaahhhh, Another round on me...." He said somewhat dreamily, his head swimming through the natural painkillers they released at the alarming sensation. "Whew... what happened? Blood, syringe, cut off limbs... Man I'm in so much trouble..." The red lights reflected off a lamenated card still around the neck of a scientist's body. A shine that caught the blue and white eyes of Eydin.

He snatched it up and lept to his feet. "I got a golden ticket~ I got a golden ticke-errwhoa..." He staggered, falling to a knee. Slow and steady, you did just wake up...right? "I...I think?" He surveyed the room again, a slow fear creeping over him. "...Did I?" He cautiously walked over to the door, and lifted the ID card to swipe it. A faint, familiar voice echoed in his head, which he recognized as his own twisted kind. "A...revolution?"
Shadow Rogue is offline  
Old 05/20/2009   #3
Meteo
Default

...Raised voices from beyond closed doors...
...Anxious pleas congested with trepidation...
...Mother?...Father?...
...Foreboding curiosity...

...A flurry of action...
...Mother and Father darting about...
...A nervous panic...
...Shrouded in confusion...

...A resounding knock at the door...
...An omen of danger...
...Evil men with murderous intent...
...The Harbingers of death...



A tenebrous reminiscence penetrated the silence of his mentally vacant slumber. Within the bleak darkness of his desolate mind, devoid of thought, a dim light shone through. A light heralding a clarion sense of familiarity. Vague memories of a distant and virtually forgotten past inundated the dry reservoir of cognition, triggering a chain reaction of cerebral synapses, and neural communication. His subconscious existence faded out of the limelight in abdication and submission to the dominance of conscious thought, omniscient awareness, and dangerous intelligence, supplanting the darkness and establishing totalitarian control. ...I'm dreaming...no...I was dreaming...I am...awake...

The blatant realization struck him abruptly, spawning a transient moment of bewilderment. To phrase this occurrence as highly improbable would be a gross understatement. Mathematically flawless Violan scientific procedures and carefully implemented safety precautions assured officials that events such as random awakenings during Cryogenic stasis were simply and utterly impossible. Destrillian subjects in this state of hibernation were reduced from dangerously powerful killing machines, to mere bodies without minds.

However, the arbitrary, unsteady rhythm of mechanical beeping, buzzing, and ringing played incessantly in the Destrillian's head like a motley crew of unruly, hyperactive children. Though the irritating clamor was muffled through its permeation of the dense glass casing and think gel solution of the the Cryogenic chamber, this commotion was no figment of his imagination. This was real.

True to his instinctively defiant nature, the Destrillian snapped his eyes agape, exposing his glowing amber glare to the harsh salinity of the enveloping liquid in which he was submerged. He strained his optical nerves, peering intently through the obscurity of the quasi-congealed substance. His sweeping, analytical gaze scanned his surroundings until his pupils halted, captivated by the distinguished orange text displayed on the face of a flat screen monitor suspended from the ceiling acrossed the room, now rife with mechanical conversation.

887609-09
Destrillian Prototype # 000-000-005
Ronin Nerolei Maverick
Shadow Star
Sub-outlet 3436d
Age: 18 years: 9 months: 23 days: 5 hours: 37 minutes: 42 seconds
Hyper-rest 23 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 10
Dr. Tersia Bayley ext. 3
Log: 26


The log soon advanced to 27 as Ronin clenched his fists, frustrated at the fact of his very existence being continuously cataloged and monitored as nothing more than a specimen for experimentation.

Error in Section 3
Recording
Alerting Staff


Bioelectric sensors and brainwave activity monitors finally concluded the interruption of Ronin's cryogenic slumber, sounding sirens of distress to the nearest Viola security contingent. As the impregnable steel door lifted, two security officers brandishing powerful firearms, along with two scientists clad in long, white lab coats, rushed into the Cryo-lab of Destrillian #5, in response to the emergency alarms. The pair of officers took strategic positions at the door, and main computer core, their weapons loaded and aimed, prepared to terminate the encased being if necessary.

One technical specialist hovered above a large keypad, his dexterous fingers dancing frantically across the innumerable buttons as beads of nervous perspiration dripped from his brow. Anxiety lingered heavily in the stifling atmosphere of the Cryogenics lab. The technician hastily scrutinized a series of recent logs before looking up to his partner.

"Check the bioelectric output levels on the central console, quickly!"

The vigilant subordinate readily followed the command, striding increasingly uneasily toward Ronin's cryogenic chamber. Ronin lay still, his hands now relaxed, his nude body willfully paralyzed, motionless...poised. Concentrating, he drastically suppressed his own biological energy, effectively cloaking his very life force, reducing his consciousness to a negligible mumble on the "flawless" Violan computer sensory equipment. Ronin took advantage of his natural aptitude for empathic perception. ...Rising fear...pathetic fools...your ignorant faith in technology will end with your deaths... Hurriedly scanning a medley of charts and graphs, the disquieted assistant's undisciplined fingers fumbled apprehensively amongst an impossibly complicated labyrinth of switches that comprised the central control panel at the base of the glass encasement of the cryogenic chamber.

Breathing a naive sigh of relief, he turned to his superior, his back facing the fallaciously comatose Destrillian.

"Bioelectric output readings and cerebral activity levels are negligible sir, everything is normal."

The lead technician narrowed his gaze, reluctant to accept the disconcerting report of apparent normality. He buried his chin in the palm of his hand, his voice laden with a pensive frustration.

"...Something triggered the alarms..."

With infinite complacency, the young colleague asserted a tone of reassurance in an effort to assuage the doubts of his elder confidant.

"Sir, these devices are infallible."

With that bold statement, Ronin saw the opportune moment to shatter their surety and faith. His audacious eyes shot open, and with a lightning quick maneuver, he blasted a hole through the otherwise impenetrable glass membrane with a tightly balled fist, following straight through the body of the unsuspecting Violan official. The sudden thundering explosion sent razor-like shards of thick glass shooting across the laboratory like menacing missiles, one of which found its mark through the eye socket of one of the security officers, felling the guard with severe cerebral trauma. A new wave of alarms and sirens sounded as the leading technician smashed his palm onto the emergency security signal switch before dropping behind a cluster of computer consoles to avoid the fatal darts of shattered glass. Circuit boards and fuse panels overloaded and fumed with undulating smoke as they sparked wildly, loose electrical cords whipping about in a chaotic frenzy of malfunction. The horrific cries of agony from the junior dignitary echoed off the cold, confining steel walls of the Cryogenics lab. He looked down in terror, witnessing a blood-drenched hand exiting his body through a gaping hole in his stomach.

"Im--possi--ble...ugh!"

He muttered his last word painfully while coughing up blood, his chest heaving in unimaginable anguish. The merciless hand reached upward, jolting the body forcefully against the half-cylindrical pane before swiftly retreating back from whence it came. The lifeless body slid to the floor, fueling a pool of blood that mingled intimately with the cryogenic fluid that now poured freely from its crudely created vent.

Error detected
Malfunction
Premature Cryogenic Encasement Breach
Cryogenic sleep process canceled


The water sprinklers initiated, raining their crystalline droplets in futility. As the chamber retracted, Ronin casually seated himself from his supine position on the uncomfortable metal surface that supported him. His hair matted, physical features blurred by a thick coating of the gel that previously surrounded him. Slowly his skin was washed clean in the welcomed shower of the sprinkler system.

Stepping off the chamber platform, a voice rang clearly in his head. He recognized the voice of his fellow Destrillian.

My comrades… For far too long we have been slaves… Pawns in this twisted game of chess… Now is our time… to awaken.

Sierra. He admired her initiative. One by one, the voices of his kin resounded in his head. All were awakening. One thought replayed with rapidly increasing appeal. Rebellion.

Abaft the partial concealment of a towering mass of shorted circuitry, the remaining security guard knelt, cowering in fear of the awesome power of this enhanced being. However, at the sight of his deceased partner, fear became a force unbridled rage, and the man lurched forward in an attempt to claim his vengeance, only to be jerked backward by the head technician. He scolded the guard in a harsh yet low tone.

"Fool! You are about to commit suicide! If you want to live I strongly suggest you allow me to handle the situation."

Ronin turned his beaming glare towards the agitated chatter.

"There's no need to whisper Dr. Belamy, I can hear your voice quite clearly at any tone."

The security officer failed to contain his rage and bolted from his hidden position to confront Ronin head on in a fit of reckless fury. He aimlessly fired his automatic rifle into the obscure, saturated atmosphere shouting vehemently.

"JUST DIE YOU FUCKING FREAK!!"

After unloading his entire magazine of ammunition, he came to the terrifying realization he had not once even seen his target. Now he was defenseless, and unshielded. Completely vulnerable.

Around his feet, a thick black mist began to form, quickly consuming his legs. The man flailed his arms in a fearful panic, trying desperately to disperse the seemingly gaseous substance from his body. Useless. His feet became as one with the floor as his last chance for flight brought him nowhere. The black cloud traveled upwards, immersing the frenetic guard up to his chest. His very life seemed to be draining from his body, and his violent wheezing indicated he was suffocating. The dark nebulous completely encompassed the victims' existence and soon released its hold, dropping the asphyxiated carcass to the floor.

Ronin dropped as well. Clutching his head in his hands, he labored to endure the pain of the intense migraine consequentially developing from the exploitation of his unique power. Regrouping, Ronin regained his composure, pushing the grief into the depths of his mind.

"It hurts doesn't it?"

The doctor calmly revealed himself to his Destrillian patient.

"The headaches...I can make them go away. Please. Let me help you Ronin..."

Ronin fixed his ominous amber eyes on the pleading doctor with intense hatred and disgust.

"Your feelings betray you Doctor. Inside of that complacent shell, you are cowering like an orphaned child, alone and afraid."

...Mother and Fated executed...
...They fall before the eyes of a child...
...An orphan presenting a fruitless resistance...
...Nothing remains...

Another memory intruded. Ronin's eyes flared once more with a supreme disdain. His family, his childhood, his very life stolen from him.

"Do not speak of relief when you willingly supplant happiness with pain and sorrow. The revolution is here Doctor, and you are not a part of it. I shall give back to you, all you've given me. Not death, but a lifetime of suffering."

The doctor realized he had no hope of negotiation. Frantically, he darted for the door, pounding frustratedly on the emergency release button. Jammed. He turned back toward a slowly approaching Ronin. Instantly, hallucinations of terror, misery, and pain raced through his mind, the terrible visions ravaged his brain mercilessly as he felt his conscious mentality drifting into a world of gruesome insanity. A fate far worse than death. Amidst the agonizing chaos, he could hear the voice of Ronin, deep, and cold.

"Welcome to your future Doctor. Goodbye."

The man's eyes rolled back into his head, glazed and lost in a seizure of eternal torment. Ronin replied to his brethren.

It seems the rebellion has begun. The Shadow Star is moving, and I will not stop. Not until every ounce of pain has been repaid.

Last edited by Meteo; 05/24/2009 at 09:18 PM.
Meteo is offline  
Old 05/20/2009   #4
Bex
Default

- The cry of birds, the winged song -
- Of liberation sounding after -
- The girl of hope who skips over -
- The threshold of dreams and despair -

- Nature, the elegant ballet -
- Dances around her dainty steps -
- Ignorance, the fell poison of -
- Innocence a mere breath of wind -

- And he, her foul Agamemnon -
- Stalked the decayed trail to hell -
- A dry mouth screaming surrender in -
- Silence. A murmur of no lament. -

- Sneers and snarls of shadows echo through -
- Branches which offer no shelter -
- As desperate pleas fall on deaf -
- Ears as science does as the carrion does -

Corrupt with virtuous season


Under the flickering lights of her steel prison, encased in a glass cage, the girl’s finger twitched. Encased in that callous glass coffin, smothered in thick liquid, Thetis felt her heart thrash uncontrollably against her ribcage. Her shadowed eyelids trembled, yet the Destrillian dared not open them. Her chest heaved, and she felt the weight of the blue liquid press upon her chest. The girl could hear the scientists muttering amongst themselves, their pens scratching relentlessly against old wooden clipboards. Thetis’ pulse throbbed in her eardrums as the impenetrable door was locked and bolted. Alone again. Her head jerked restlessly as that familiar prickling sensation played across her mind. She could feel the pain of pin prick bruises on her neck. It ached, yet Thetis lay silent.

The light in the room had gone, and only the dim amber glow emitted by the Attribute Screen was left, its pale orange data stifled in the unforgiving darkness.

887609-09
Destrillian Prototype # 000-000-006
Thetis Lucina Alcesteos
Raging Charybdis
Sub-outlet 3446F
Age: 18 years: 9 months: 18 days: 6 hours: 37 minutes: 49 seconds
Hyper-rest 23 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 10
Dr. Alison Perkins ext. 6
Log: 23


Her blanched yellow eyes snapped open, before once again slipping out of focus. A dream? The log monitor reading rose to 26.

Error in Section 3
Recording
Alerting Staff


Thetis’ slender fingers clawed weakly at the base of the glass box as the alarm screeched through the high security corridors. The frenzied movements of the scanner had ceased, its quivering needle returned to the uniform pattern of before. The thick metal door was flung open, and Thetis let her hand fall slack. She could not awaken. Not here. Not now. A Doctor briskly strode into the room, followed by three security guards, armed with fearsome rifles. The Doctor drummed his wizened fingers impatiently upon the glass, irritably running procedures through his mind.

"Sir, I think she’s-”

“Check the readings. Now.”

A guard readily adhered to the anxious man’s order, his heavy hands playing across the keyboard before turning to face his superior.

“Sir, it’s all normal here, the readings are normal… Sir?”

But the Doctor did not hear him. His glazed hazel eyes were transfixed upon the naked girl. He could have sworn he had just seen her shiver.

- Filtered light, broken by corruption -
- Folded with her cries, her pleas -
- Gaze cast left-right left-right, rank -
- And file confusion of fear -

- The girl’s watering eyes rested on -
- The father who showed no remorse -
- Eyes she dare not meet in dreams -
- In death’s dream kingdom -

- A captor fumbles for brutal aid -
- A heartless smirk as death’s bite -
- Seizes its petrified victim, thus -
- Terror veils a fallen star -


Thetis convulsed violently, her weary lids slowly receding, exposing her yellow pupils to the stinging liquid. The Doctor stepped back, wheeling on the three guards.

“Unlock the door, now! Fetch me two vials of Distrum and a specialist from the Memory Modification Unit- immediately!”

The girl in the glass prison turned to face the two officials. A soft, almost pitiful voice rang in their ears.

No… I don’t want to forget… Don’t make me forget, not again….please…

A look of complete horror crossed the men’s faces as they lunged for the door. Jammed. Dread began to creep into their hearts. Being trapped in a small room with an awakening Destrillian was certainly not a desirable situation. A wisp of smoke rose from the mess of wiring concealed behind the many rows of monitors. The sprinklers erupted instantly, releasing countless crystal droplets over the four men. The log rose to 28, and the guards raised their rifles, aiming directly at the girl in the transparent casket. Even the smallest amount of water in this room spelt disaster.

“Number Six, calm down! Those… things you saw, they weren’t real! You were born here, you were made here and you will remain here. Understand?"

Thetis knew they were scared. Was it because of those visions? Those memories? Was it because these men feared dreams, the only place where one may have freedom, without suffering restriction or censorship?

No. I was normal, once…

Tears of anger swelled in her piercing golden eyes, and her gaze fell into a venomous glare. The Destrillian raised her left hand, pressing her shivering palm against the cold glass. Her lips twisted into a disgusted scowl as the falling paused in mid air, merging all traces of moisture into four, large spheres.

"Sorry, but I have a name too."

Within seconds, the men were submerged, drowning at the hand of the being that they created. They fell to their knees, sobbing, floundering helplessly against their fate. The Violan staff collapsed onto the cold steel floor and lay still.

Error detected
Malfunction.


The glass panels fell away smoothly, and blue gel spilt over the sides of the table, yet much still clung to the nude girl. Her weary legs dragged across the glass chamber basin as Thetis slipped clumsily onto the biting steel floor. Breathing rapidly, she ripped the inhuman syringes from her arms and legs, before tearing the oxygen mask from her face as she worked her limbs out of entropy. Away from her chamber, locked within those steel lined walls. She felt more isolated than ever.

- The afternoon drifts slowly, lazily, soothed -
- By sun and song. Serenity moved -
- Through maternity‘s fair embrace -
- A dream which time could not replace-
All was well.


The familiar wave of pain washed over Thetis’ mind, and she held her sorry head in her hands. Silent tears mingled with the viscous gel that obscured her flawless pale skin. Clutching her throbbing forehead, the Destrillian glanced at the lifeless bodies of the doctor and his men. Terrified, she scrabbled frantically across the floor, distancing herself as far away from the corpses as possible. What had she done? What would they do to her now? Thetis wailed, drawing her knees to her chest in a futile attempt to escape the scene that lay before her.

She didn’t want to hurt anymore. No more needles. No more suffering. Nothing. The hard steel wall bit into her back. Thetis knew it wouldn’t be long until they discovered what she had done, until they exercised their brutal punishments. Then, a voice echoed through her mind.

My comrades… For far too long we have been slaves… Pawns in this twisted game of chess… Now is our time… to awaken.

Another Destrillian? Thetis didn’t recognize her voice but she knew that, at last, she wasn’t alone anymore. Yet even with the gift of hope, the fear remained, lingering in her heart like a malignant poison. Flinching as she caught yet another glimpse of the slain men, Thetis concentrated on her thoughts.

Y-yes, I understand. Number Six here, no... I-I mean, Thetis. I don’t know w-what to do.. I-I killed them! I didn’t m-m-mean to.. B-but now…I don’t know! What will we do? W-what will I d-do? I c-couldn’t h-help it!

The stuttering girl paused, her confusion and nerves overpowering all other senses. Yet one remained clear. She had to run, escape with the other Destrillians. Thetis crawled gingerly towards the door, carefully avoiding the eerily stationary bodies. Unsteadily raising herself upright, the girl shifted cautiously towards the door. Massaging her temples, Thetis utilized her power. Thin strands of water elegantly circled her wrists, before writhing violently and darting towards the sturdy lock and hinges of the steadfast door. Within seconds it creaked, revealing the dark corridors of Basement Level Five. Leaning against the bolted frame for support, Thetis felt the first pangs of a dreaded migraine. It wasn’t over yet. Things had only just begun.
__________________

Last edited by Bex; 05/21/2009 at 12:27 AM.
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Old 05/20/2009   #5
Alessa Gillespie
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She never slept. Thoughts would float softly through her head.

“Could I smash the glass in this tube?”

“Could I kill those people who took my friend?”

“Will I ever get to see them?”

Maybe she did sleep. It wasn’t like she could remember if she ever did. But she remembered the skritchy noise of lines being drawn up and down on a piece of paper. It was rather relaxing, in a way. Sometimes she even thought she could hear someone’s voice, faintly telling her instructions on that screen. Mumbling things she didn’t understand nor cared to try.

Wasn’t like she needed to listen anyways, Terra smiled dully in her holding tank, seeing the sediment float around like tiny dirt jellyfish. She was weak, and she knew this, but at the very least she could clump those bits together and make a fist and smash the glass and tear at the bellies of her captors and find her only friend and BEEP BEEP BEEP. No, she wasn’t thinking ‘BEEP BEEP BEEP’, or so she believed. She was sure something else was beeping and it was interrupting her thinking and she didn’t like that one bit.

Dressed in a lab coat and covered by two men in heavy armor, Dr. Trellius was making sure that the doors were sealed after the sudden error message. Of course, he had to check on Terra first, since she wasn’t going to need nearly the amount of guards as the others who were sealed in their rooms. They stormed down the hall, silent among the screeching noises of the siren. He nodded to his companions when he approached the door: clearly he was to be left alone when he locked down her tube.

She saw him when he came in, that bastard who took her friend from her. Her perfect, wire-bodied friend. Or was he? They all looked the same anyways, they should have really stopped doing that. She could see him, out of the slits of her open eye, ploinking the little keys on the computer, typing in numbers and letters and curses. Whatever he was doing, she didn’t like it.

So she closed her eyes and began to concentrate until her ears began to ring.

“Damn, this thing is really breaking down. Didn’t I tell them to clean her up after training sessions to keep this tube spotless? We’re going to need to do a manual clean-up of this thing when she’s at her next training session, “the Doctor grumbled as he typed in the full lockdown procedure program. He was certain he was seeing things, but that tiny girl seemed to be struggling within the tube. Even though that didn’t worry him much, he was the one with the gun after all, he smiled as he saw the metal barricade rise up between them, keeping the both of them safe from each other. It didn’t worry him in the least as he watched her struggle fruitlessly, turning his back to type in the rest of the program’s parameters.

His heart felt like it had exploded in his chest when he heard the shattering noise from the tube. He turned around, grabbing his gun simultaneously when he saw the girl squeezing herself out like she was toothpaste. He held it steadily to her head, telling her, “003, you need to get back into the tube for your own safety.”

For the first time since he’d entered, she stared at him with her bright green eyes, blinking. “My head feels like a piece of meat being smashed into sparkles by a piece of smelly light.”

Ah, of course.’ He realized, ‘she’s talking like she’s crazy.’ He lowered his gun, slightly, barely, and held out a hand to her, “Let’s get you back to where we can get you some painkillers, okay 003?”

“Three. Three faces of Eve, three women at the crossroads, three cuts of meat, three, the prime number,” She babbled, reaching out her hand. Keeping a safe distance from her, he held out his hand, helping her up. She touched it, closing her eyes in peace. This girl seemed too neurotic to even want to leave. Her smiled graced her face, a dim ray of sunshine on this dark night. “Three pieces of sediment to the heart still makes you a floppy notebook.”

Immediately, he raised his gun to shoot her in a deadly spot, but she was faster. Those pieces of sediment had clung to her hands like tiny killing bullets, shredding anything on its way to his heart. He stuttered out for the guards to come, falling to the floor in a heap.

She was able to get the sediment back from his heart, though it must have hurt him on the way out. Like how her head was going bangbangbang and poundpoundpound right then. Maybe there was someone out there who could help her.

But she had more killing to do before they—she would be satisfied. Concentrating harder, she was able to find a teensy bit of dirt on the doctor’s shoes. Right before they shot her with the rifle that was.

She went down almost immediately when they shot her, which the guards were thankful for. It was nothing more than a tranquilizing bullet, so she would recover by the next day to wake up and go back to being a little guinea pig for Viola. Of course, they really should have used smaller bullets, these things were supposed to be used on unruly animals. The pair grabbed her arms and legs simultaneously to take her to a safe holding center for the time being.

“Screaming narwhals, “The girl said, eyes refocusing. Before they were able to shoot her again, tiny dirt shards shot them both through the brain, making sure they were thoroughly dead like the floppy rabbits. They hit the floor at the same time, Terra actually managing a tiny yelp when she hit the ground.

Her head hurt, like a squirrel dying slowly while vultures pick off its flesh and oh god it hurt it hurt it hurt. She needed relief, squeaking for someone to find her and help her and find her friend.

As long as it wasn’t Viola. As long as it wasn’t Viola. As long as it wasn’t Viola. As long as it wasn’t Viola.

Pitifully squeaking and crying, the girl known as Terra clutched at her head and mumbled ‘help’ over and over. Perhaps someone could come by and save her.

Perhaps, even, her friend.
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Old 05/21/2009   #6
NoenGaruth
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I don't have time for this nonsense.

Vargas gazed out the window of the helicopter towards the horizon of the early morning, entrenched in his own thoughts as he pondered what flimsy new development those fools in white coats had to report about their precious little guinea pigs they kept locked in the basement of the head office. Whatever is was he knew that even if it wowed the other members of the board, it would still be a waste of his time, time that could be spent completing the field test of his department's new Mark IV 'Avenger' class combat drone, which he had just been called away from. Turning his head away from the window he pushed back the sleeve on his left arm to check the time on his imported and obviously overpriced wristwatch.

6:37...by now we'd have been in the middle of calibrating the drone's rocket pods for a test fire, a shame, I could have used a nice big series of explosions to kick start my morning. He thought to himself as his eyes shifted back towards the window.

"Umm....Sir?"

Vargas turned his head to face the voice, it was Circe, the lieutenant from his department who the board had dispatched to collect him for their 'important' meeting. She was fairly youthful (by his standards anyway), somewhere in her mid to late 20's with shoulder length ash brown hair and emerald eyes, wearing a green military officer style tunic and skirt with shiny black boots that were pretty standard for Violan female personnel of her rank. She was holding in her arms the agenda brief for today's meeting, which she hadn't given to Vargas yet since she knew he wasn't interested.

The girl spoke again "Is something the matter sir? You look troubled". Vargas then sprung to life and smiled at her "Nah, everything's fine little lady, my mind's just still back at the test site where the rest of me should be". She then got a worried look on her face thinking the director was angry with her, since she could never tell if he was, so held the agenda documents over the lower half of her face and said to him "A....again sir, I'm....I'm sorry to have disrupted your work". She then leaned back expecting some kind of negative response, only to have Vargas lean forward and push the documents away from her face. "Circe, if I had been upset with you trust me when I say that you, the pilots and everyone within a 5 mile radius would have known about it".

He then leaned back in his seat and pushed his sunglasses up along his nose, "Chances are my anger will be directed at those damned scientist who called this meeting to tell us all about one of their destrons shooting fire out of their noses or something" he said while maintaining his calming smile. "I believe they're called Destrillians sir" corrected Circe.

Vargas tilted his head down and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses, a sight she rarely saw, then he said laughingly to her "What they are is a a waste of company resources, you of all people should agree with me on that by now".

He tilted his head back up "For as long as you've been working here and for a great deal I have, the Destrillians project has been the number one focus of Viola, which originally was boasted to revolutionize the battlefield with a new kind of super solider, hell, even in the beginning I was taken in by the idea, but after 10 years since it kicked off and no significant progress that could be applied for widespread military use, I personally feel my faith in the whole thing was misplaced and we should just cut our losses and return our time and money back towards what has always been Viola's chief export - Weapons. Guns, missiles, and a wide variety of war machines, these are what Viola is all about." he toted as he quickly threw his right arm forward and pointed at Circe then gave a big grin "This is the most important truth you should never forget: weapons and machines are what got us to where we are now and are what will lead us into the future".

He then finished off his grand speech, which had gotten him worked up into a great feeling of self importance, with "and so you see, my dear Circe, I won't have any little comic book rejects stealing that thunder, which I worked so very hard for, away from me".

Circe was awed by the director's speech, but her curiosity pushed her to ask him "So then sir, if you don't mind me asking, what are we going to do about it?"

Vargas was amused by her words, and sitting there with his arms folded replied "See now that's exactly the reason you're in my department. This problem we have won't simply go away overnight, we have to play the waiting game. Considering all the recent 'progress' they've been making, the chance for something to go wrong increases substantially."

He gazed back out the window again as the helicopter approached the Viola building, then narrowed his eyes and coldly added "and when it does I'll be there to deal with it..."
__________________



Hey who wants to come home with me?!
Ok that wasn't very smart but totally worth it!

Last edited by NoenGaruth; 05/21/2009 at 01:27 AM.
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Old 05/21/2009   #7
Teva
Default

A ruler over the demesne of ice,
A queen they call her . . .
Torn from the world she knew . . .
Tortured by the demons of science . . .
A girl she was, a monster she is now, they say
Fluttering wings are broken . . .
Shattered ice is all she knows.
Flowing liquid, aqueous, liquefies, solidifies . . .
Steadily, slowly, like the very threads of her soul . . .
That liquid, that trickle of water liquefies.


All at once there were the splotches of light, an array of dizzying colors, that caused her to feel vertiginous. Then there were the flashes of images--smudged pictures, coming into focus, and there were the melding of different hues--different colors. There was a lock of hair, too dark to be russet yet too light to be mahogany. An encouraging smile, with faint laugh lines marring the otherwise coffee-hued smooth flesh.

Her mother's flesh.
Her mother's hair.

These were the features of a woman that had long since faded. Now only remnants--mere vestiges of her remained.

So there were sounds: the rushing of thick vacuous liquid, almost gelatinous as it pressed against the sides of Eve's body. Eve heard the sounds of machines: whirring, beeping, all too audible, and too distracting for her to feel contented.

Broken doll, broken child
Like the phoenix from the charred ashes . . .
Like a bird breaking loose from an egg . . .
She's free, she's free, and she can taste . . .
She can taste freedom on the air
That child of ice.


The light waned and soon flickered before it was instantly shut off. Her eyelids fluttered as she murmured unintelligibly, slightly uncomfortable with the sandpaper-like dryness of her lips. She wetted her lips eagerly before a screen gleamed and a shaft of white light illuminated her encasement of glass. All at once Eve felt blood roaring in her ears and she was hyper-aware of everything moving: Bones shifting and muscles contracting and expanding as she splayed out her fingers; and pressed her palms against the glass.

The Attribute Screen displayed her information in glaring red letters and it took her a moment to focus on the blurred text:

884608-02
Destrillian Prototype: 000-000-010
Eve Rosalind Wakefield
The Ice Queen
Sub-outlet 3422F
Age: 22 years : 10 months : 20 days : 4 hours : 38 minutes : 55 seconds
Hyper-rest 23 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 10
Dr. Aidan Alexander ext. 4
Log: 24


Her log number changed by one additional number as soon as she regained full mobility. She was confined to the smallness and narrowness of a cylindrical glass tube. Her heart rate and other vital stats were constantly being monitored via numerous wires and tubes that had been attached to her casing. The sound of heavy footfalls brought her back from her ruminations.

Error in Section 3
Recording . . .
Alerting Staff . . .


Hazel eyes lit up to an eerie yellowish tint as soon as the doors to the room slid open. A lab assistant, rather nondescript, blue eyes and blond hair, walked in with a clipboard grasped firmly in his large hands. He scanned the room briefly before glancing at her directly and moving over to what she assumed to be a towering monstrosity of a computer. He moved over the keys of the keyboard deftly, swiftly punching in the required pass-code to gain access to her statistics.


Eve growled to herself though it came out as a low throaty rumble due to the fact that she was submerged in thick liquid. She was aware of this desire to escape, to run somewhere, anywhere. She was aware of her memories that had come flooding back to her as soon as she had awakened from her temporary stasis.

"How's it going over there, Shetland?"

Eve let out a barely stifled gasp as she laid eyes on her doctor, Mr. Alexander. He strode in confidently as he draped his arm over his lab assistant's chair in a very lackadaisical manner, and slightly inclined his head to read over the newest updates.

"Well her log number seemed to have went up, I suspect that it's an increase in her cerebral activity."

"What do you mean you suspect? It is an increase in her cerebral activity. Check her cerebral cortex for any signs of disturbance."

The sounds of clacking keys added to Eve's steadily building ire and she clenched her fists until half-moon marks pressed into her palms. She had to stay focused and placid if she was to ever expect to make her escape.

"It appears as though she's experiencing a mental recollection . . . in other words . . .," the lab assistant trailed off, seemingly perplexed by the latest development.

". . . her memories are resurfacing. We have to somehow deter that process." The weathered dark-haired doctor mumbled.

The lab assistant in, what Eve perceived to be a rare moment of sobriety wheeled himself over to the casing and looked over the Attributes Screen. A hiss issued out from between pursed lips and Eve felt the coldness snaking through her body in waves, pulsing, ebbing, and flowing in a current that she could not cease. The lab assistant's eyes widened as he mouthed, 'My God' and immediately alerted Dr. Alexander of his findings.

"She's also conscious, sir."

Dr. Alexander visibly blanched at this and Eve smiled satisfactorily as he slowly turned his head and regarded her with his mouth agape.

"E-Eve . . . darling, we can help you. We can administer a sedative to you and--and then we can just put you back to sleep, okay?" He stuttered, visibly tensed, and Eve saw the pressure points at the sides of his neck. She could imagine puncturing him there with shards of pointed ice, watching him bleed to death, and gradually slipping with each passing moment.

"I'm not a freaking child anymore, Dr. Alexander," she hissed his name in contempt as she unfurled her hands. The liquid in response to her recently manifested ability, instantly started to solidify. The pressure combined with the sheer volume of the substance resulted in the glass shattering. A rush of thick cryogenic fluid and detached wires spilled out over the floor. Globules of the gelatinous substance clung to her body before the sprinklers overhead were activated.

Water sprayed over the entire room, drenching the occupants in a thin misty rain. The lab assistant looked appalled and frightened as he struggled to press the button for the Security Personnel.

My comrades… For far too long we have been slaves… Pawns in this twisted game of chess… Now is our time… to awaken.

The sound of another Destrillian sent a shiver down Eve's spine. The voice was strong and it drifted in undulating pitches before it steadied itself. The rebellion had begun.

It was far too late and Eve knew this. She smirked deviously as she heard the squelch of blood. The young man gurgled, a spurt of sanguinary fluid flowed down his neck in crimson rivulets, and a lone shard protruded from it. His jugular vein had been crudely but instantly severed. He slumped down in a disheveled heap. He had already transpired.

Error deleted.
Malfunction.


"Eve," the doctor pleaded, " . . . I--I . . . we can help you. If you just cooperate with--," he was effectively cut off. The power that surged through her was immense. A euphoric feeling overwhelmed her and flowed into her in recurring tides as she directed a shard no larger than the tusk of an elephant to impale Dr. Alexander by the knees. As the solid ice pierced his kneecaps an eardrum-shattering scream sounded through the thin air.

Numerous footfalls accompanied the noise of guns being adjusted. The security officers hastily loaded their weapons with rounds and Tasers were charged up for use simultaneously. Eve laughed, chortled really, because she honestly felt that their attempts to pacify her were in vain. She would have her freedom tonight. In fact, all of her fellow Destrillians would have that freedom.

"Shoot her! Shoot her and kill that monstrosity of goddamn nature now!" His compassion eradicated and replaced with fear and anger, Dr. Alexander struggled against the restraints that had permanently shattered through bones, osseous, and veins. Eve subconsciously hurled projectiles at him. Numerous ice shards ripped into his abdomen and his pain-induced screams became eerily silent as he died. A trail of blood led to the door and the security guards all collectively paused as they took in the gory sight before them.

"Requesting for back-up, repeat, we are in need of additional reinforcements. The subject has become volatile." One of them clad in a black Kevlar suit radioed in to his comrades via walkie-talkie. At once a barrage of sharpened razor icicles stabbed the unsuspecting soldiers. Eve formed an ice shield from the remaining liquid to deflect the bullets from their rapid gunfire. Soon a massacre laid before her dainty feet. The countless bloodied corpses of men were strewn throughout the small room.

The throbbing pain of a migraine shifted uncomfortably through her head as the young woman pushed up and assumed a sedentary position, threading her fingers casually through her hair. As she found a blood smeared ID card on the floor, Eve triumphantly grinned, and swiped it through the slot in the door. The distant sound of helicopter rotors rotating and buzzing through the air could barely be heard as she took her first steps into a dimly lit corridor.

Last edited by Teva; 05/22/2009 at 05:33 PM.
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Old 05/21/2009   #8
Baldy
Default

"Mommy! Mommy!" wailed the voice of a little girl, cradling her scraped knee. The mother came rushing into the room, but relaxed at the sight of her daughter, unhappy but relatively unharmed. "Mommy, I'm dying!"
"Hush, Idris, you know you aren't," came the anticipated assurance. The little girl called Idris stared up at her mother with a tear-streaked face.
"But…but it hurts…"

"You're just bleeding a little bit," Idris' mother said, squatting down beside her child and inspecting the scrape. "It's clean, sweetie, so go find a bandaid to put over it and you'll be alright. Alright?"

But the little girl had heard something of interest. "Bleeding?"
"Blood," her mother said, pointing at the cluster of tiny red dots on her knee, "keeps us alive. There's a lot of it, so you don't have to be worried if you see some—"

"Blood?" repeated the daughter, with a tone containing something akin to uncertainty; if she were older, more mature, it could have been taken as wariness, but she was too innocent to be wary. Her mother nodded, smiling in a placating way.

"It's just a mix of water, proteins, iron, carbon dioxide and oxygen, and a few other things," she explained. Idris had no idea what most of it meant, but she took comfort knowing her mommy had an explanation for it anyway. Her mommy always knew how to explain everything, and that made it less scary – Idris wanted to be able to do that when she was older.

"Well… okay," the girl conceded, standing up. She pulled a face at the stinging sensation that started anew in her knee, but her face was dry of tears. "I'll go find a bandaid."

I'll go find…
I'll go…
I…

Pale grey eyes shot open, only to be squeezed closed again to shield the delicate tissues from the stinging salinity of the cryogenic fluid; as if she was closing her eyes against it, the memory disappeared in a whirl of fog and gel and needles, like they always did. All the young woman was left with was the knowledge that she had remembered something and now it was gone… again. An unbidden ache began deep in her core at the thought—she had remembered something and now it was gone—but she forced it out of existence as she always did. She was confident she'd remember properly one day anyway, so there was really no reason to hurt about it.

Idris was always so confident about everything.

As her self-assurance calmed her system down, she began to slip back into the artificial state of slumber she was confined within. Down, down, down… back to being lost in a sea of warm, pale blue and nothing else but. The reading on the attribute screen glowed softly, its muted orange text shifting, unseen by the chamber's sole inhabitant.

863007-03
Destrillian Prototype # 000-000-009
Idris Savage

Gunmetal Glint
Sub-outlet 3445c
Age: 19 years: 2 months: 27 days: 1 hour: 19 minutes: 42 seconds
Hyper-rest 23 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 9
Dr. Cedric Rosenfeld, ext. 4
Log: 20


Only now it was 21.

"Mom, can you help me with this?"
"Hey! You know, you should really get into pottery or something, that looks really good!"
"Dad, what's the name of the instrument Maddox is playing?"
"Why don't you go ask him?"
"Dinner's ready in five minutes, so go wash up and…"
"Ouch! Hey, watch where you're going, you…"
"Did you know that—"
"Mom! I've got—"
"I can just never find the time for—"
"—didn't mean it—"
"—such a sweetheart—"
"—right, Idris?"
"I love you."

Awake.

Idris was the most alive she had ever felt in her little glass cage – she could feel the sluggish swish of gel against pale, bare skin as she moved her arms. She could move her arms? She could move… what was this? These wild, lucid dreams and the memories they pushed to the surface of her indoctrinated mind were becoming more and more frequent, but all of a sudden they were coming at her constantly! What could it mean?

Throwing caution to the winds, Idris opened her eyes to mere slits. She took in the sight of her room through a liquid blue distortion; in one corner, a screen had lines of data sprawling across it like an amber-coloured woolen sweater unraveling at incredible speeds. Sounds, stifled by the cryogenic fluid she lay suspended in, were filtering in—sounds she could understand, like pounding footsteps and the loud hiss of a door opening, and a keen, screeching sound that kept repeating, repeating… like a siren, she realized. Exactly what was going on as of late—?

Hold up.
A door opening?

…It hadn't been hers, but oh, that wasn't good at all, not now, not when she was awake…! Idris closed her eyes again and poured every ounce of will she had into stilling herself.

"Shh, hush up and calm down, easy does it, love…"
And her breathing slowed; her pulse grew faint, and her naked, flawless form relaxed. As it should have, her activity barely registered on the attribute screen. And just in time.

A doctor burst into the room, accompanied by a semi-frantic female nurse. One look at the all-knowing monitor in the corner of the room and they loosened up; the doctor's shoulders sagged in relief, and through her ever-sharpening aural capability, Idris heard the nurse breathe a sigh of relief.

"The screen says her output's normal… she spiked a bit earlier, but I guess the cryogenics put her back down. Well, that's what they're for," said the nurse in a high, falsely cheery voice.

"You're only glad we didn't have to take evasive action like they did in Sierra's section, aren't you?" was the reply, words sailing on the lush yet foreign wings of a soft, throaty voice Idris had never heard before. Who…?

"Aren't you? I mean, being stand-in for her usual overseers…"

And the firm reply: "Stand-in or not, I'm just as capable as anybody."

And then there was another voice, much fainter than either of the Violan staff's – too faint to make out but. Idris strained to hear it more clearly but the effort showed up on the monitor – even as she swore internally for not thinking her actions through, the stand-in doctor's hands were flying across keys and then, in the same professional manner a salesman would ring a doorbell, he pressed down on the button that would release sedatives into Idris' tube.

This was not a cool thing to do, in Idris' books. What with the voice in her head and the dreams, this was the final straw; she wanted out, now. But how was she to do it? The closest metal was in the hallway, shielded from her abilities by a two foot thick layer of industrial plastic. Some help that was! Even the needles pricking her body were devoid of any metal, in case she ever decided to use them to her advantage. She had to think, and think fast.

"What to do, what to do…" She delved far into the only place she could go for an answer: herself.
And it came.

"Blood?"
"It's just a mix of water, proteins, iron, carbon dioxide and oxygen, and a few other things…"

"…water, proteins, iron, carbon dioxide…"

…Iron?

"You've got to be kidding me." Her mouth formed the words, and although no sound was heard she could feel the exasperation vibrating in the caverns of her body. The sedatives were going to kick in any moment unless she took action now, but even for the purposes of escape, self-mutilation wasn't high on her list of things to do.

"Fine, then – we'll play it their way," she thought, a savage tone entering the last two words as she grabbed hold of her left forearm and sickeningly, astoundingly—for she had never attempted this before—began to leech the iron from her radial artery. Any moment she would have enough to do something with, and when that happened…

The doctor and his assistant, meanwhile, had been watching her move, as she was no longer making any effort to hide her awareness. The doctor whipped around and began pounding keys, entering the codes for another dose of sedatives—
Shnk.
—and fell lifeless to the floor, with a splinter of solid iron the length of his index finger lodged in his brain stem.

It happened before the feeble nurse could even blink—the cryogenic tube behind her shattered from the shockwaves left behind by the impact the sliver made when it made its exit. By the time she had thought enough to grab a needle full of Distrum, as a last sort of self-defense, Idris was already slipping out of the broken remains of her encasement, landing on the floor in a crouch only to rise again, naked and beautiful and glistening with cryogenic gel. She pushed her saturated hair out of her eyes and stared at the nurse; the nurse stared back.

There was silence between the two, only broken by the commotion outside the chamber. Slowly, as if considering something, Idris tilted her head. "You know something?" she said, as if it were perfectly normal to engage in conversation during situations such as these. The nurse couldn't say anything for her fear, so Idris continued, "my head kills. Not to mention, I think I'm a bit anemic to top it off. So I'll make you a deal; give me that needle there and I won't kill you."

The nurse was frozen. What to do? Her eyes darted to the panic button on the keyboard—it would only take a second for her to reach it… but then, what would become of her? She had no power; nothing of the sort of power that stood before her; not even the kind the paranormals harboured. She was doomed for sure if she didn't comply.

"Well then? Do take your time, dear, you've got about twenty seconds before I decide for you!" Idris' voice rang, clear and sharp above the din outside. After one last, long look at the emergency button, the nurse faced Idris and held out the needle with a trembling hand. It was snatched away before she could change her mind, and she cringed back in fear of some sort of pain—but there was no harm done to her. She looked at Idris, who had stuck the needle of Distrum in her arm and released the soothing fluid into her body. Any trace of pain left her face; bright, pale grey eyes locked onto the nurse's watery blue ones.

"Well go on, then! I'm not going to wait all day for you to mosey on out," Idris said with a smile. In seconds, the nurse had fled.

"Run, love, run," the Destrillian murmured, her tone filled with lazy amusement. She pulled the sliver of iron back from where it lay embedded into enemy flesh, and diffused it back into her blood. And then the voice from before sounded again, and this time, Idris could hear it.

My comrades… For far too long we have been slaves… Pawns in this twisted game of chess… Now is our time… to awaken.

"That Sierra's just the sweetest thing," Idris concluded with another nonchalant smile. She was about to respond when her eye was caught by the emergency button the nurse had been looking at so longingly.

…well it wasn't like there wasn't already a cacophony of sirens outside. She lay one spidery finer on the button and pressed it, and a new mechanical wail of distress joined the others in the hallway. "Might as well do the thing right," she said to herself, pleased to just be able to speak without being listened in upon. She found the communication line in the room—beside the Attribute screen, whose Log reading happened to display the number 22, now—dialed the number for the head Violan doctors, and with a "hn" and a smirk, pressed the key for extension 4. She left the receiver hanging.

"Let's see what they make've us, hmm, Sierra?" she sent to the mind of the apparent leader of the uprising.

Then, she turned on her heel and opened the door into bedlam.
__________________

Disappear with the stars and come back alive.

Last edited by Baldy; 05/22/2009 at 12:15 PM.
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Old 05/22/2009   #9
Sheva Alomar
Default

...on the shoulders of a loving father...
...mother in stride...
...the sun shining warmly...
...wind gently caressing...
...laughter...
...love...

..torture..


The foreboding room of endless, menacing machinery beeped and blinked around the human specimen officially known as “Number Four”. Peacefully did she lay in her glass case, but not naturally so. A heavy, orange liquid engulfed what free space there was left within the tube between the flame manipulator and the transparent layer that barricaded her from total freedom.

Freedom...

Fiona was her real name. Once. Rarely did it resound in the dark, dank hallways of the Violan facility she was now bound to.


953248-35
Destrillian Prototype # 000-000-004
Fiona Myrwind
Blazing Fury
Sub-outlet 4745a
Age: 18 years: 11 months: 11 days: 06 hours: 09 minutes: 54 seconds
Hyper-rest 39 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 10
Dr. Finley Fringe ext. 12
Log: 58


As blurry images of a past long forgotten assaulted the Destrillian, the panels and monitors swiftly reacted to her responses. Fiona's hands started to quiver as her face contorted into expressions of anger and annoyance. Sounds of laughter and visions of children playing swept through her mind, further contributing to the conflict rising within the fire manipulator. The suppressive, gel-like water of the glass coffin began to swish about and bubble.

Error in Section 5
Temperature Rising at 2 dps
Recording
Alerting Staff


Sirens reverberated down the halls of the Violan basement level to notify nearby personnel of the increasing disturbances surfacing among Fiona’s stats. The room containing the number four specimen came to life moments later. Bright lights flashed on from the four corners of the room, all focused on the body now convulsing within the glass tube. A group of 7 men, including 2 doctors and 5 imposing Violan guards came storming into the room. All of their eyes aimed at Fiona and the monitors surrounding her--prepared for anything. The Violan officials all stopped several feet short of the glass tube where the fire Destrillian laid. One of the guards craned his neck up a bit to get a better view of the girl’s actual form.

"Great, another one of her fits," the brute stated as he retracted his head and looked to his peers. There was a mixed reaction of amusement and fear from the other henchmen.

The two doctors, by this point, had already assigned themselves to two large screens of data to the right of the steel room. As one of the doctors slowly examined Fiona’s status and vital signs, he slowly began to shake his head with a look of distress. Myriad reports were printing a few feet away from him. The wary medical official then approached the ever-growing pile of paper with sweat starting to form above his wrinkled brow.

"This is most certainly not one of her usual routines. The readings that I am receiving here are far different from any other. It seems a specific portion of her cerebral functions are spiking out of control! Impossible! Number Four has had mental disturbances before, but never so strong, n-n-nor dangerous! We never anticipated something such as this.”

All the while the crone doctor’s voice became increasingly nervous, making his uneasiness and fear blatantly obvious. His eyes scanned every sheet of the reports rapidly yet meticulously. Without wrenching his eyes from the paper, he spat out an order.

“Quickly, alert Dr. Fringe!”

No sooner did two of the guards turn on their heels and headed for the doctor’s office when a sharp beeping permeate through Fiona’s metallic dungeon.


Alert
Cryogenic Sleep Cancelled
Case Temperature at 210 degrees Fahrenheit
Warning: Containment Failure Imminent


Freedom…!

Fiona's eyes shot open as the waters around her boiled and churned furiously. She was finally conscious and ready to escape. Being a master of heat, the Destrillian of fire was unaffected by the rise in temperature and smirked as she began to make her move. Monitors and systems around Fiona’s tube began to manifest fumes and shortages. The team of Viola members started to back away with unsteady grimaces. As a burst of electricity spewed from a large portion of the mega-computer next to the crew of Viola crones, Fiona punched her way through the glass encasing her. As the barrier cracked and came undone, her sadistic excitement only grew. Once she was out of this coffin, she would happily take care of whoever was in her way of finally getting out of this hellish prison. With one last elbow to the side of the glass, the fire manipulator casually rolled out of the glass encasement as the orange liquid from within rushed over her.
The two doctors who were so keen on studying the situation at hand immediately dropped anything they were holding at the site of one of their experiments escaping their pod. The guards, too, were intimidated by this turn of events. Never had any of the specimens taken down their tubes. It always seemed to be the one place to completely keep the Destrillians at bay. Now that one was out, Blazing Fury of all of them, the grunts knew that everything was about to get extremely violent. All they could do was ready their weapons toward the dangerous girl.

From a crouched position, Fiona rose and faced the men that were occupying her quarters with her. The same smirk she held as she forced her way out of her tube was the exact one she still wore now. With a swift breath and jerk of her head, the young firestarter hawked what appeared to be a mix of phlegm and orange goo. Instinctively reacting to the sudden movement, one of the guards fired off his laser rifle at the girl. Fiona cocked her head easily out of the way and returned her attention to the motley crew before her.


“You know you’d be spitting that shit out, too, if that got into your mouth while you were sleeping.”

The grunt said nothing in return, only staring down the Destrillian with his gun fixed on her. Sighing and shrugging her shoulders, Fiona continued to speak.

“Have nothing to say to me? Well then, I guess we can all stop dicking around and get down to business. I never liked any of you anyway.”

Playfully crouching into an offensive stance, she chuckled softly.

“Are you boys ready to play with me? Don’t blink!”

Before Fiona even finished her sentence, she was on the first officer—the one who had shot at her. With a look of dramatic concern, she addressed the startled man.

“You really should be careful about firing off your load too soon.”

Just then, the officer cried out in agony over the audible snapping of splintered bone. To everyone’s surprise the firestarter had her hands on the guard’s weapon. Not only that, but she forcefully shifted it so that the gun was now aimed directly below his chin. Fiona’s face morphed into an expression of pure amusement as she placed a finger over the trigger and set off the laser rifle. A bright beam instantaneously shot through the bottom of the man’s face, straight through the top of his skull. Faint squirts of blood resounded as red liquid escaped his facial orifices. Not a moment later did the now lifeless corpse collapse to the floor.

The two remaining guards and doctors looked on with horror. Fiona simply smiled at her handiwork. The officer closest to the fire Destrillian snapped back into action, deciding to charge at the delinquent head-on.


“Why you little..! Raaargh!”

Right before he came in contact with the volatile prototype, he carefully pulled out a needle from his breast pocket. With it, he jabbed his arm forward, hoping to at least disrupt her focus. Fiona caught sight of this and grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward her all in one swift movement. Glancing over to the syringe, the firestarter could easily identify what it contained. The corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. She looked the officer dead in the eye.

“Do you really think that I would let you get away with petty shit like this?”

“Heh, of course not. Which is why I have this in my other hand!”

A fresh wave of electricity rushed through the Destrillian, amplified by the orange liquid still clinging to her body. Fiona cried out in pain, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The guard had unsheathed a taser in his other hand. Basking in the small victory the grunt had achieved, he shoved the electric device deeper into the side of her waist.

“Does it feel good Number Four? Huh?! ANSWER ME, YOU PIECE OF SHI-!”

Before the officer could finish his sentence, the firestarter had taken a firm hold of his face. What she had been doing prior to this moment was child’s play. Now that she had been struck, there was no stopping her.

“Don’t…fuck…with me.”

Slowly, the guard lost grip of the taser in his hand. The three other Violan members still in the room simply looked on in shock as their comrade began to quiver. Beneath Fiona’s tight grip, it seemed that the victim’s skin began to almost boil. Within a matter of a minute, the guard started to shriek out like a small child while his body emitted a foul smell and a performed a gruesome pattern of convulsions. Another minute passed and the sadistic Destrillian tossed the fried cadaver aside. His face was now completely malformed from where Fiona’s hand was. A weak trail of smoke could also be seen escaping from beneath the guard’s apparel.

Hunching over slightly, Fiona turned her attention to the three men left alive in the room with her. Through her now labored breathing, she chuckled. She looked even more crazed than previously.

“The rest of you cretins have two options: be added to my pile of corpses, or, run away like the little chicken shits that you really are!”

“O-o-or, w-we can be civil about th-this.”

The doctor from earlier finally spoke up. He was ready to suffer an aneurism due to all that just played out in front of him. Even so, he vainly insisted that there was still some way to efficiently resolve the situation. Regaining her posture, Fiona stood up straight and cracked her neck a few times. She ignored the migraine building in the back of her head. Her bright, orange eyes zeroed in on the feeble old scientist.

“Ohoho! So one of you docs finally grew a pair! This is quite the spectacle. Unfortunately, I gave you all of the choices you have at this point. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll just decide for all of you. How does suffocation sound?”

A small grin grew larger across Fiona’s visage as the heat began to rise throughout the stale, steel room. The two doctors now crawling like toddlers gasped for air as they struggled towards the door. The final guard of the trio initially trapped with her decided to take one large swing at the psychopathic Destrillian. Fiona easily anticipated the pathetic excuse for an attack. The officer whipped out a combat knife from his waist and lashed it sideways at the fire manipulator. With a side step and a duck, she dodged the blade. Before the grunt knew it, he felt a pop and multiple tears from either side of his shoulders. Fiona had followed his strike by getting behind him and tearing his arms from their sockets. A dark crimson color appeared beneath the dark grey suit of gear the guard was wearing. His arms, now attached only by his costume, hung at awkward angles beneath the long sleeves. Wobbling at his feet for only a few seconds’ time, the last officer fell.

All the while, the heat continued to rise. The doctors, both old men, were still alive--but barely so. One had already given up on escaping the sauna from hell. Nearly lifeless, he laid there, every breath threatening to be the last. The second doctor was on his way to death’s doorstep as well, only he was dead-set on getting out of there. Fiona slowly approached the pair, indifference appearing on her face. Without a word she lifted the weaker of them by the collar and tossed him carelessly at the large screen of data now a mesh of dead pixels and static. His head crashed through the screen, leaving sharp spikes to partially sever his withered body.

Seeing this, the sole survivor of the carnage became engulfed in pure fear. He muttered incoherently to himself as he pulled out his ID card. His face had sunken in far more than it was when he initially entered the room. His eye sockets were now caverns that led to small beads of white and faded grey. The skin draped over his bones like wet towels, pulling him down to the floor. As the scientist swiped his pass and the door opened, a shadow came over his being. Like a scared child, the doctor faced Fiona. Her orange orbs were as bright as ever, piercing her now silhouetted figure.

“N-not now! No! Wait! PLEASE! I BEG Y-!

“Time for you to shut up.”

As the fire manipulator interrupted his plea, she reached for the lower portion of his jaw. With her other hand she clenched his neck and ripped his mandible clean from his face. The feeble shell of a man was so crippled by that point that only a dry cough escaped his now visible throat. Along with the blood that slowly flowed down from the exposed veins and muscles.

That’s when it finally hit. The ping at the base of Fiona’s cranium pricked mercilessly now. This migraine certainly wasn’t as bad as some, but it hindered her none-the-less. She placed a bloodied hand to the back of her head—the source of the pain. With her teeth clenched and an eye slightly squinted, she endured. The fire prototype knew that this was only the beginning of a long battle. Echoes of her kin that were trapped as she was floated through her brain: Sierra, Thetis, Idris, Ronin…

Ignoring her mental pain for just a moment, Fiona added her two cents to the collective thoughts gathering: We’re getting out of here right now! No pussy-footing with these Violan scumbags or your ass will be left behind!

With that, Fiona left behind her room of carnage and set out to break free from the chains she had worn for so long.
__________________

Last edited by Sheva Alomar; 05/10/2010 at 07:13 AM.
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Old 05/22/2009   #10
Hisako
Default

“How we doing?”

“Nothing special, if you’re talking about Erthys over there.”

“Well, it’s not like you get paid enough for me to actually care for your sorry ass. Make sure he’s not screwing around with the monitors. Don’t go into the second chamber until you’re sure he doesn’t have something up his sleeve.”

808615-50
Destrillian Prototype # 000-000-002
Erthys Connor-Guzman
Thunder Child
Sub-outlet 3430c
Age: 22 years: 5 months: 16 days: 7 hours: 24 minutes: 18 seconds
Hyper-rest 23 mode
Normal RAM
Life Level 10



“Sleeping like a – wait no, he’s opened his eyes.”

“Again? Well, that does it. Really make sure he doesn’t have access to the chamber doors power supply.” “Erthys, get back into your tank.”

“Rosie, I’ve had some of my brothers and sisters attempt to break out of captivity. I’d like to try and convince them otherwise.” A slight tilt of the head, the tiniest of smiles.

“And since when did you care so much about the rest of them?” The deafening messages carrying across his mind, the two silently flinging psychic pulses across two sections of concrete wall and blast-proof glass.

Dr. Rosin Franklin ext. 9
Log: 30


“They are brethren, my dear, but I’m sure that you wouldn’t understand unless you were one of us.”

“Regardless, we’re not letting you out-”
They were interrupted by distant klaxons accompanied by a nearby chime on the monitors.

“I’m sure that whatever’s going on right now, you’ll need my help. At least, that’s what I suppose some of the other labcoats are thinking right now.”

The scientist hesitated, a rare moment in her career. “Open the first blast door. Keep your distance, tranq’ him if he tries anything stupid.” She called for security backup, just in case.

“Thank you.” Erthys stepped through the door, and raised his hands. “Peace. I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He eyeballed the tranquilliser gun pointed at his chest. “Anything that I do to someone, really, comes back to myself.”

“What?”

“By that token, if you tranquilise me with that gun, you also… tranquilise yourself.”

The young man with the gun looked at the weapon in his hand, then back at Rosin, who by this time was thoroughly suspicious of what Erthys was saying. “Erthys, stop with this philosophical babble. Save it for the recreational room.”

Erthys appeared thoroughly taken aback, although all he displayed was a further tilt of the head and a lowering of his arms. “I was being serious, why does no-one take me seriously?”

“Are you going to tell us about the break-out or what? When is it?”

“And then there’s the point where when you ask the question, you’re not really asking it for someone else to give you the answer… you ask the question and it answers itself.”

Tired of the banter, Rosin motioned for the young man to shoot Erthys.

“Wait! Hey, easy.” The tiny smile appeared on the Destrillian’s chiseled face as an accompaniment to a raised palm. “Check the call for security again.”

Rosin did, but even before that, she knew something was wrong. “You knew about -”

Log: 31

A lot happened within the next few seconds. There was a blur of pale muscle, and in the first few milliseconds, two fingers prodded hard into the other scientist’s chest.

At roughly the same time after that, the tranquiliser gun was fired and a jolt of electricity ran through the scientist like a stun baton.

A few milliseconds after that, a dart embedded itself into the cartilage of Erthys’ ear as the stunned man began to drop to the floor like a dead weight, twitching and spasming.

As one second almost passed, Erthys fished a keycard out of the scientist's pocket and swiped it at the second blast doors to open it, bounding across the room using the next second of time.

Two more seconds of opening the blast doors while Rosin cursed and fumbled for her hold-out pistol. At the time of the point of realization, epinephrine began to course through her bloodstream.

A tiny electric arc surged across the control room at light speed, just large enough to make Rosin curse again and drop the gun. By the time the gun hit the ground in the next second, Rosin’s adrenal glands were working overtime.

Erthys cleared the distance between them with a few bounds, scooping up the gun and jamming it into the space under Rosin’s sharp chin. “How much of it was true?”

“W-w-w-”

“What, you ask? My past. How much about my past was true?”

“M-m-most of it. I mean, I mean, you were being abused, y-you see? Ab-abusive f-father! Y-y-your files will tell you… you’ve come so far…” If fear had a smell, Erthys smelt it. The woman was not lying. Erthys let her slump to the floor, releasing the gun from under her face.

“You-you’re not going to kill me?”

Erthys discharged all of the shots in the gun, and threw it back to Rosin, empty. She flinched as he crouched to face her. “Anything that I do to someone, really, comes back to myself. Like electrical circuits.”
Static electricity made Rosin cower as Erthys ran a hand through her hair. “Do you know what my father thought of me before I was taken away?”

“N-no-”

Erthys prodded her in the neck with a V-sign with his fingers, sending a current through her body for a few seconds. Standing up as she keeled over, twitching and convulsing, but far from death, he broke out his tiny smile again. “It’s funny, that. Neither do I.”

He walked back to the young man in the first chamber again, now limp and unconscious, taking his labcoat for modesty and to appear less conspicuous.
A pulsing pain began to gather at the base of his skull, not enough to cause any immediate distraction, but enough for Erthys to make a mental note about it. He thanked himself that he didn’t spend so much energy in subduing his captors. As he shrugged on the labcoat, he sent a general reply to the rest of his brothers and sisters, to Sierra in particular.

I hate to burst your bubbles, children, it’s been such a poetic jail-break. But before we break our chains, march to freedom or anything inspiring like that, have any of you got an idea of where exactly the way out is?

Last edited by Hisako; 05/22/2009 at 07:54 AM.
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Old 05/22/2009   #11
Channy
Default

Destrillian 001 stirred. “Break our chains.…" Then a sudden flood of voices infested her mind and she clutched her temples. "…help me.. help me…” Her eyes glimmered with an innocence and a sense of misunderstanding. "I-I killed them””..left behind.” She swung her head once and sobbed. “Stop it…” It was unfamiliar chatter… “Let's see what they make've us..” “Goodbye. Doctor." isolated cries that she thought she should know. “Stop it!”

Her vision was blurring. Flashing before her fading eyes in the darkness were images she saw moments before she awoke.

She was administered a shot of Distrum deep into her neck, relinquishing the pain of her memories and her pulsing adrenaline. Her sweet sweet release to all the pain that they caused her.

Dr. Panyon himself was hovering over her. His fingers trailed across script in a nearby book, reciting passages to himself and scribbling down additional remarks on Sierra’s state. “001 has experienced several dreams from her past over the last two weeks… Additional procedures will need to be in order to wipe out her remaining memory if she is to be of any use to us.”

No… Don’t take them away…

He took his pen and trailed the ballpoint along her glass chamber, leaving no marks and simply reveling in his creation.

Tap tap.

He wondered when the next time would be that he would see her pale eyes again; colourless shades that stared emptily at the world and yet saw everything for what it was. He recalled the last time they met, she was upset because training was too harsh, and Fiona teased her relentlessly just like she would with any one of her comrades. 001 was upset, and for the first time since she had been captured, he saw within her the rage that he knew would bubble to the surface and explode in a flurry of destruction.

Remarking his musings, he jotted down a few more notes on the page before dating it. He rummaged with his fingers through past observations, comparing his findings, before giving a nod to his two colleagues. After assuring that Sierra was indeed asleep, he left the room with his subordinates. And so she was alone.

Oh how he would rue the day that he overlooked her awakening…


The book in question caught her attention. Laying sprawled across the dashboard lights was her life. Everything they had come to learn about her. Every little nook and cranny of her mind: probed. Every alteration of her body: documented. Passages upon passages of data and observations by scientists all dating back from the day she was brought in. Her whole life lay before her in 1,984 pages.

She took up the script and ran her fingers along several words. She hadn’t seen these types of words in years. She could only read at a 4th grade level before she was snatched and Destrillians weren’t taught it was too obscure. But there before her, she recognized those symbols and attempted to decode their cryptic message.

She merely scanned the pages contents, looking for any familiar words or sound but she understood none. But at the foot of the leaflet, there it was. Written with doubt and reservation, yet truth with every letter, she sounded the words out “We are creating our own murderers…”

The distant cry of voices and the light zip of a door sliding open distracted her. A technician, a doctor and a guard all came in at once. They all stood in the doorway, their shadows stretching forward and meeting at the table. So terrified about being caught with something she wasn’t meant to see, she dropped the book in an instant, allowing it to fall in its still open position with a loud echoing beat. Her gaze settled on the ominous team before her, particularly the phaser gun that the guard held firm. Guns weren’t toys. They weren’t to be taken lightly. This much she was sure.

“You there!” he shouted. “DO NOT MOVE!!!”

Sierra shuddered inside herself. The child inside of her awoke. Fear swelled up inside of her and she wanted to run. She wanted to hide.

“Stand slowly and turn around… Put your hands up!” The guard with the photon gun stepped forward. Sierra followed orders and raised herself from the table. She had to follow orders otherwise it meant instant paralysis and cardiac arrest. “Where are the others?” He nudged the barrel against her left temple. “Answer me!”

“You fool!” The Doctor noted the fluctuating mess of identities in her mind. “Don’t you understand what’s going on? Put your gun down.” The guard did as he was told with great reluctance. Calmly, Dr. Falle, an assistant to Dr. Panyon himself, stepped forward and placed a warm palm on her sticky cool back. His fingers grazed the shards of glass still embedded in her skin and he brushed them off, looking after his specimen’s welfare.

He had been assigned to 001 since the day she arrived, along with Panyon. He understood everything about her, what she did, how she did it and why. Sierra also understood that Dr. Falle and Dr. Panyon were the only ones in the hell hole she could remotely trust, besides her own.

“There now… What’s got you all riled up?” He spoke with a velvet tone, knowing that the slight tonal change to disconcert her.

Sierra spoke as sobs broke apart her words. All the while she pled with herself to stop crying. “I’ve been… dreaming… of mother…”

Falle chuckled lowly underneath his breath and simply rubbed the girl’s back, despite the sticky goo that remained on his fingers. “That’s impossible… You were made not to dream…” And with that, he relinquished the comfort from her and approached the guard and technician who remained back at the door. They exchanged hushed whispers, most of which Sierra wasn’t deaf to. “Make sure 001 gets back into Hyper Rest… We don’t want this happening again…”

Sierra turned to face the three men, the fear and sorrow she harbored was misplaced with a new emotion… rage. “My name isn’t 001…” She was furious, and that was reflected in the way her eyebrows furrowed down into a contorted expression. “It’s Sierra…” Her hands seemed to ignite with a pale glow. The guard at the far end of the room powered his photon gun and aimed directly for her.

Sierra raised her arms and held her hands upright, palms pointed out. She engulfed the photon gun in a magnificent orgy of lights and colours. It exploded as a bolt of luminous white lightning touched the tip of the barrel. The man cried out as white flames tore through his body like ribbons when he made impact with the far wall.

The Doctor stood by and motioned to the Technician to run for it. Not sparing a moment to save his life, the man in white fled. Falle remained.

“You do not run?”

Ceiling tiles rained down. Lights exploded. Circuits in the walls burst to flames and their cover panels bounced out into the hallway like frisbees. Other security agents herded themselves into the nearest automated door, clambering inside its safety. The two remaining figures in a lethal room painted an almost ethereal image.

Falle gave it one moment longer before he anticipated what would happen next. Sierra fell to her hands and knees and gasped for air. Her vision was impaired by the sudden light show and the ferocity of her powers from using them so soon after awakening. The popped circuitry and short fuses along the length of the corridor had shed some light to lead her on the way out, and left a shadow looming over her existence.

“It’s silly really…” Collectedly he strode towards her. He squatted down on his knees and picked up her chin with his right hand. “We believed in creating something new…” He tilted her head from side to side, his eyes glancing over any visible physical flaws. But there she was as he always remembered her. Her face was the epitome of perfection: high cheek bones, pale lips, her cupid’s bow quivering. “The ultimate killing machines…”

The Destrillian swatted his hand away and barely managed to shove the mad scientist over, sensations running over the map of her brain as she felt her headache worsen. “I was not created into this world, I was born... And you dared to take that away from me. You took away my family... You took away my home... You took me away from myself..."

"We gave you a new family... a new home... and a new life." Falle remained composed, even after Sierra crawled her way forward and mounted the man at his waist. The fact that she remained naked still eluded her, and the risqué position she had taken hardly mattered.

A circuit snapped and shorted between the two of them.

She shifted her gaze, eyes pure and thick as fresh fallen snow, landing on the frenetic fuse. Being careful with it as if it were a frightened animal, Sierra grasped the short fuse by its still covered hide and brought it closer, connecting its gaping mouth to the scientist she kept pinned to the floor.

Everything and nothing happened. It was all so quick; it was as if she missed a beat. Sierra shook her head and stepped away from the charred scientist, his smoldered uniform baked into his skin leaving little imagination to distinguish him apart from a monster. Sierra wept for the man who had cared for so long.

She stumbled on her way out. The Destrillian was hardly aware of the fact that she was still nude even after she stumbled over a clothed bloody body of a guard. No, it was a woman. She seemed to be burned, yet her body was marred with white cinders. Tears began to well up behind her eyes again as she stumbled off into the dark hall. It was the nurse… She thought fondly of her for a moment before coming to the realization that her death was at her hands and at the hands of her uncontrolled mental weapons.

How she could direct a small pack of her own through their escape, she knew not... She stepped into the hall, her shadow being caught by the wall across from her. She hesitated.

Clink clink clink.

Pitter patter. Footsteps. Someone was coming. She stumbled back and faltered, tripping over the bloody body of the nurse. With a short childish yelp she fell backward, her essence confused and befuddled as the shadow in the hall grew shorter, and her chances of being caught rose higher.
__________________

So, why do you come here?
Same as you, I think. I've been here a lot...
You must have a lot going on your mind, I suppose.
Yeah, but I'd rather have nothing for a change. How do you do it?
Well, it comes with practice. I can think of nothing.
I do not feel the need to occupy my mind with nonsense, just to avoid thinking about what really matters.

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Old 05/23/2009   #12
Alessa Gillespie
Default

Was she all alone? Her head was pounding and no kindly angel appeared to shoot her full of drugs. If she could get her brain working, this was going to be another day of saving herself.

She pressed her eyes into her head, hoping that perhaps it would be able to cut off blood to the part of her brain that was hurting. When she finally let her hands drop, however, her brain still hurt and her vision was now full of floating black jellyfish. She was seconds from crying out in pain again, until she heard a voice tell her what to do.

“Take the gun, shoot yourself. Take the gun, shoot yourself. Take the gun, shoot yourself.”


Which was easier said than done, since the gun was about half of her size and holding it while hunched over in pain was not particularly fun. She checked to make sure there was still ammo, head pounding, and awkwardly hefted the barrel of the gun against the skin of her leg. With one shaking finger, she pulled the trigger, and a tranquilizer bullet shot out, sticking awkwardly out of her leg. She dropped the gun and pulled the little needle-bullet out, a bead of red bubbling up from her flesh.

Is it time to sleep now? I feel sleepy now.

Now you find the others.


Wobbling, Terra got to her feet, kicking the scientist and taking his lab coat. Being naked made her uncomfortable. Despite the fact it was blood spattered, she slipped her arms through the coat, covering herself. She looked at the bit of fraying on the edges, wondering if this coat had been used often.
She smoothed out the little strings, pulling out the random loose end that was hanging freely onto the coat.

“If you move, I will shoot,” At least one guard was standing between her and freedom. He had some sort of talky box at his belt to call more guards to put her down, make her floppy and put her in the tube again. She hated that damn tube.

“Then do something about it!” Her older brother jeered, ignoring how much his sister hated not eating, “Then let us take the damn wagon back.” Her elder sister nodded with him in a sad sort of agreement, holding onto the youngest child, who was barely 2.


Terra sniffled, remembering how daddy had gotten it for them to play with, taking off her glasses and cleaning them on her soil-stained dress. “Pa got it for us, we should keep it. He wanted us to keep it…” She knew they had to sell that wagon, but at the same time, she’d rather die with it than sell it. Even though her belly growled for more food, she didn’t want to sell this precious item that her father wanted the rest of the family to have.


“Well, he’s dead now, and it’ll probably get us a nice price in the market. So I’m taking it and getting us some food,” He said, ignoring his sister’s tears. At least the girl still had her glasses, she should have been thankful for that at least. She touched her glasses lightly and let herself bawl until no more tears could come out.


She wasn’t sure where the memory came from, from another life, from time long past, from a person long dead. It didn’t matter anyways. She rose to her feet and dashed to the guard, who shot her several times with actual bullets. They hit her, bouncing off uselessly, showing the guard something he should have remembered about the girl. You needed to go with the grain of her skin to really do any damage. She bent the barrel of his gun (she liked to think of herself as strong), yanking it away from him. He fell backwards, reaching for the handgun he had at his side, but she wasn’t too keen on that idea. She stepped on his wrist, grabbing his head between her two calloused hands. “P-please don’t—“

Of course, she wasn’t listening. She was tired of that game. She snapped his neck with one deft motion and left him lying in the doorway, feeling dreamy from the tranquilizer. Where was she again? Oh, right, she was leaving her room to be free. Wandering out of the area, she didn’t even notice the soldiers who were quickly filling the hallways.

They can’t see me, I’m invisible. I’m a leaf floating in a war zone. No one can see me. No one.

And if they do, I’ll smash them.


The groups were marching solemnly down the hallway, two by two, marching down the little hallways like ants. They seemed to have been concentrated into one hall that wasn’t too far from her. Ignoring the bullets that were hitting and flopping off ineffectively on her skin, she followed the concentration of soldiers.

Is my friend there? Are they going to hurt my friend?

When she thought this, she suddenly became furious. Which was not a pleasant feeling in the least. She ran back to one of the soldiers, hefting him up easily and throwing him at the group heading for the room where her friend (?) was being held. This caught them all by surprise, as it happened in a matter of mere seconds, and Terra was quickly snapping the necks of the rest of the guards and removing their limbs to use as weapons. They were all babbling so loudly anyways, even when most of them were lying on the floor motionless, they were still talking. Why couldn’t they just shut the hell up?

To the soldiers who were standing around, wide eyed in shock and fear, this girl was clearly some sort of wildwoman who couldn’t be hurt by bullets. Though she hadn’t killed many (only perhaps two in her sudden bloodlust), she was a rather disturbing figure, wearing a blood-spattered lab coat and wielding someone’s arm while screaming, “SHUT UP SHUT THE HELL UP SHUT IT SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

The group of soldiers decided it would be best to leave this girl alone, squeezing past her, the woman-child heaving raging breaths as she clung to the wrist of her severed weapon. Once a good majority of them had left, Terra made small squeaking noises, realizing she was hurt, but not physically. Something in her heart made her hurt, and she covered it up, sniffling and moaning in sadness.

“Come on,” her friend told her, holding out his evanescent hand.


She smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes and taking his hand. They walked down the hall together, Terra smiling gently as her friend guided her to this new, strange area.
Alessa Gillespie is offline  
Old 05/23/2009   #13
Bex
Default

The world ceased to exist. There was only escape from a heart of darkness accompanied by orchestral groaning of sirens and the beating of her heart. Composed by freedom, the celestial hymn sounded an incessant chord that filled Thetis with desperate longing. Cosmos and chaos collided to blare the halcyon note of deliverance. Deliverance, at long last. The girl’s mouth gaped open, its corners curled into a smile of dreamlike disbelief. Tick tock. Thetis flinched. Time, the elusive warden of basement five. Time, absent for so many years, set into motion once more. Time, leering like a phantom from the shadows. What time did she have? Lights flicked and her trance fled, flailing its arms. The hands of fate were counting down. Tick. Tock. Escape, that word that had slept for so long was once again within grasp. That light, that hope stifled by the stygian cruelty of Viola no longer a dream, but reality. Thetis nervously licked the droplets of cold sweat from her upper lip as the ghostlike whispers of the other Destrillians diffused into her subconscious. Their words made everything that seemed unreal, real, and fear sunk its claws into the girl’s heart. The stench of sour metal rose from Thetis’ quivering hands as she brushed snow-white hair from her saucepan eyes. The girl stared blankly down the long, bare corridor before turning back to her jail.

Do not pass go
Do not collect 200 tokens.
“Well done sweetie!”
“Our little girl won again?”
……
“The boys at school keep being mean about my name!”
“Don’t listen to them sweetheart, you have a special-”


A fluttering stomach lurched as blanched yellow pupils were caught in glazed, lifeless orbs, sunk into the contorted faces of four Violan corpses. Memories fell like leaves from a skeletal tree. Screams died in her and floated belly up. Like the dead guards, floundering helplessly against their fate. The music had gone now, no rousing symphony, no thundering drum supervised Thetis’ cacophony of thoughts, and hope was torn away like an insignificant weed. The Destrillian stole a frightened glance around her. Four puppets, strings cut, a wet floor lit by the blinking glow of the attributes monitor. The water, grey-green in the darkness, swelling orange digits rippling in its depths. Data that had been burned into the girls eyes for what seemed like an eternity. No longer. Thetis sprinted from her shelter in frantic terror, delicate, gel coated feet slipping across buffed concrete floor.

They came within minutes. Frenzied footfalls dulled by silence. Dark of heart in their starched trousers and steel tipped boots. They enforced the primal order. Hatred born from fear, science’s fear of nature, the norm’s fear of the alien, power’s fear of powerlessness. The need to enforce human nature’s pursuit of evolution overpowered by a paradox - the human urge to destroy what one could not subdue. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five to crush a Six. To flee was to deny nature, to deny instinct, yet fear smothered the girl, paralysing her. But with that fear came anger. The black essence of anger that years under a tyrannous discipline could not erase. It blurred her sight, seeped into her mind and rang in her ears, echoing like the toll of a bell. Panic shrank away from rage, and Thetis drowned in the depths of fury.
A child cried out from the darkness.
Tick-tock.

The world was clear once more, and Thetis breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to face her pursuers. Science’s henchmen versus the power of nature. A sailing boat in the shadow of a tsunami. They were young, hiding behind their weapons like toy soldiers. Knees shivering, guns aimed. All but one glaring with empty, flat eyes. The last, hanging behind the squad leader, trembled and shook. Thetis cocked her head to the side, inquisitively probing his mind. She could feel his fear, his despair, his world of hopes turn to dust in the depths of his thoughts. He knew, yet still he spurned his fate, kicking and screaming against the inevitable like a child. Turning to face the rest of the platoon, Thetis raised her hands in surrender, golden eyes still rested upon the young man. She recognised him. He must have only been a couple of years older than her, always staring at her in the recreation room with a dangerous fascination. Her grace, her beauty her prowess - he had seen it all, and with knowledge came greed. The hunger to know her, to experience what she had experienced, to taste her power. Jealousy, such a weakness that desired power and fuelled his curiosity further. The guards shuffled uneasily, joints creaking like a thicket of trees caught in a heavy gale. A mere twitch of Thetis’ hand, and a warning shot soared past the girl, singeing the tips of her deep blue locks.

“Boys, boy, boys! Shooting at a naked, vulnerable girl? I thought better of you.”

The corridor ached with an ominous silence as #006 coyly primped in front of the men, taunting them, mocking them. One last performance before the curtain call. She reached to feel the burnt strands of hair before lowering her arms and sighing heavily in disappointment. She heard it all. The rattles of fear in their chests, their ragged breaths brawling for oxygen, the collection of raucous thoughts. Most of all, she heard the young boy’s terror.
You will all die here.

Tick-tock.
“She’s in my head!”

“Calm down Matthews!”


The offensive had begun, triggered by the voice of fate. The air shifted, particles slowed, and a crystalline wall of moisture blanketed Thetis. No sooner had the man lost his nerve, yelping as his shaking fingers pulled the trigger, eager to destroy the object he longed to be. The beam of light passed her by 5 inches to the left. The girl chuckled, her low sniggers climbing a crescendo into hysteric laughter.

“Why didn’t you just send down the doctor? Don’t you know? Don’t you see? Your stupidity will be the end of you. At least try to kill me!”

Confidence bred a crazed frenzy as the girl loosed her control over the aqueous mist, drops of vapour falling gracefully to the floor. Refraction had been one of the first things she had learnt about her power.

“She’s too far gone, take her within an inch of death if you must”

Exhilaration pulsed through her veins as the men lay down a withering barrage of gunfire. A delirious grin spread across Thetis’ face, all traces of humanity deserting her as she dexterously threaded her way through the hostile beams of light like a butterfly, avoiding the eager clutches of a child intent on breaking off its delicate wings. Throwing herself at the squad commander, #006 tripped his photon gun from his grasp and tossed it aside, gripping his body armour as she drew back a clenched fist. A set of knuckles drove themselves into the leader’s ribs, followed by the dull crunch of his skull on concrete. The rasping gurgle of blood on his breath as shattered bones tore at his lungs was music to Thetis’ ears. Crimson blossomed from his parted lips, staining his perfect white teeth, murky grey eyes shining with hatred as he spat in the Destrillian’s face. Fury responded with a devastating punch to his school, his last smug smile etched into his features. Acting without hesitation, the girl pulled a combat knife from the belt of the broken carcass that lay before her before hurling the weapon with all the strength she could muster. A soldier to her right fell as the treacherous point passed clean through the flesh of his throat, eyes bulged in fear as crimson gushed from his neck in a turbid jet. Thetis revelled in the shower of blood, sweet revenge stealing her words and replacing them with sadistic ecstasy as life burst from the dead man’s jugular.
Tick tock.

Time was running out. The girl’s cold gaze penetrated the men’s hardened shells. Guns were useless playthings against the harbinger of vengeance. Darting from the pair of corpses behind her, Thetis crashed into the third guard, his un spinning away from him as she knocked her hapless prey to the concrete floor/ She pinned him down, bony knees buries in muscular thighs as a pitiless hand wrapped around one of his wrists in a vice-like grip. As the Destrillians spread her pale fingers across his chest, there was no mistaking the malice in her eyes, swarming like a tempest of the soul.

The silence that hung in the air like a stagnant mist was soon broken by a choked gagging sound. Water flooded into the soldier’s lungs like a monstrous wave devours the shore. The man held hostage by the merciless girl jerked in her grip. He coughed violently, raising his free hand to strike Thetis and free himself from this barbaric torture. The girl merely swatted away his resistance, pressing her palm into his ribcage, watching the guard spasm as her cruel punishment saturated his lungs. Within seconds, water trickled from the corners of his mouth and nostrils as the soldier’s eyeballs spun into the back of his head. A searing bullet flew past Thetis, and the Destrillian rolled her toned body away from the corpse before flipping elegantly to her feet, the thick fog of water surrounding her once more. The girl’s pure white fringe was plastered against her forehead, matted and embellished with crimson as she sprinted towards her young admirer’s solitary guardian. Seizing his arm, she drove the butt of the gun into his chin before firing a single shot into his abdomen. He sunk to floor, moaning in pain - not yet dead, but beyond redemption as stomach acid spilled over his organs. The weapon had served its purpose, and Thetis hastily threw it to the ground, advancing on the boy who was now at her mercy.
ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock ticktockticktock

“I don’t want to die!”

Pain obscured #006’s thoughts as the migraine invaded her senses, smudging the line of justice and punishment. She strode towards him unsteadily faltering as the headache gated away the inside of her skull, yet still ignoring his begging, his pleas to be spared.

“Try as you might to flee death, the longer you labour to escape, the sooner you will meet your fate. Truly, you are death's fool.”

Unyielding fingers wrapped around his throat, and the boy made no attempt to resist as he whimpered at the sight of her blood spattered face. Pressing his feeble body against the outside wall of her prison, Thetis leaned forward, her lips barely centimetres from his face as she felt his rapid breath against her neck.

“B-but I have so much to live for!”

So did I.


#006 pitilessly tightened her grip on his larynx as the thought lingered at the back of her mind. The boy gasped and spluttered for breath, his mouth forming soundless words, silenced by white knuckles that were so vividly contrasted against his skin. The girl watched nonchalantly as bloodshot eyes crawled in their sockets and legs trashed against white walls. Splurt. Crimson splattered over Thetis’ cheek as a gunshot sounded behind her, and the young soldier fell limp as blood trickled over his brow, flowing like a stream down the bridge of his nose. Wheeling around, the Destrillian loosened her grip on the cadaver, allowing it to fall clumsily to the floor. The man she had shot only moments prior lay twisted on his back, clutching his gun in desperation. The Destrillian sighed and clicked her tongue.

“You knew it wouldn’t work, but you still tried? Now look what you’ve done - how could you?”

Her taunts cracked into spiteful laughter as the soldier groaned, his features sunken with the pallor of approaching death. Crouching beside the dying man, Thetis carelessly seized his thick, dark hair, pulling his drawn face towards hers, oblivious to his squeals of pain. Tick tock. She flinched as she felt the pressure of time.

“Do you hear it too? Ten minutes until you die”

The man’s face was screwed into a horrific expression of anguish and self pity.

“There, there. If you’re lucky enough to see anyone before the end, tell them to pass a message on to Dr. Perkins. I’m looking for her.”

The man gritted his teeth, blood foaming from the side of his mouth.

“Y-you bitch!”

Pulling his head back further, Thetis callously slammed his face into the ground before taking a step back to admire her handiwork. Then it hit her. Pain. The girl writhed in agony, her slender fingers tearing at her hair in a futile attempt to distract her from the torture. The pendulum slowed. TickTickTickTickTickTickTickTick

“Eat your greens darling”
“Mummy’s very sick.”
“Did Hercules eat his greens?”
….
“They don’t know what’s wrong with her, honey”
“Of course he did, all heroes do.”
“She could die.”


Memories assaulted her senses like the screech of a violin’s broken strings. Pain throbbed like the beating of a drum and vision slipped in and out of focus, as she stumbled and feel in a pool of liquid, her trembling frame crashing into the concrete floor. Clutching her forehead, the Destrillian attempted to raise herself to her feet, but slipped again in, her cheek slamming into the cold stone once more.

Thetis’ eyes darted around the corridor, frenzied and paranoid, devoid of all hope. She lay her eyes to rest on her shivering hands. They were coated in the dark, warm, vermilion liquid. The girl’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel it on her face, taste it in her mouth, smell it in her hair, like another skin over her body. Blood. Terror overtook pain as the girl glanced at the four, motionless bodies that lay in the foul pool of crimson. Murdered. Four dead, one dying. But where was her saviour? Thetis dragged herself upright and ran, a distinct nausea rising in her chest. Tears cut through blood as water cuts through stone. Was this the Charybdis? Sanity and memories flung into the cruel vortex, dormant for years until the pangs of adolescence spewed shreds of painful reminiscence from the abyss. There was no nostalgia, only brutal, unneeded misery. Why did she long to forget what she so desperately wanted to know? The sobbing girl staggered around the corner, throwing herself against one of the uniform white wall for support. She didn’t understand, her memories had been scattered like driftwood in the ocean. Collapsing to her knees, Thetis let out a wretched scream, tearing a fissure in the silence of Basement Five.
__________________

Last edited by Bex; 05/24/2009 at 10:48 PM.
Bex is offline  
Old 05/24/2009   #14
Meteo
Default

...Freedom... Ronin labored to suppress his latent elation rising with the fall of Dr. Belamy. He had not known this emotional sensation in ten years, indeed the concept of liberation had become a foreign notion in his mind until this day. However, the cold steel walls of confinement reflected in his amber glare as a bitter reminder. This was only the beginning; the commencement of a perilous gauntlet of trials and tribulations, his survival of which would ultimately grant him true freedom. His goal was set, his mind focused ahead of him. Ronin tossed a fleeting glance behind him, mentally recollecting the past few minutes with a triumphant grin of satisfaction, then dismissed the incident with an expression of indifference. ...Nothing behind me matters anymore...there's no turning back...

The smooth concrete floor had become dangerously slick, thickly lubricated in a coalescence of water, blood, and congealed cryogenic fluid. Ronin strode carefully towards the solitary exit from his laboratory prison. Echoing through the vast corridors of the sub-level 5 basement, Ronin heeded the unmistakable clamor of frantic footsteps, charging intently toward the Prototype 5 laboratory. A contingent of five heavily armed guards were closing on his position rapidly, thrusting his momentarily halcyon mind into a frenzy of restless thought. Lacking a sufficient dosage of Distrum to stave off any potentially crippling migraines, Ronin realized the utilization of his unique power would only weaken him beyond the ability to fight for his goal.

Swiftly scouring the disheveled room for any useful tool of death, the Destrillian's glowing gaze fixed upon a steel shelving bracket, ripped haphazardly from it's bolted mounting during the previous fray of fatality and destruction. A lengthy scrap of curved metal, tapered at one end, bearing the crude resemblance of a small sword, though considerably dull and lacking the refined, elegant shape of a deadly blade. Grasping the misshapen brace tightly, his eyes once again scanned his surroundings to fill his vacant hand with a lethal weapon. One baneful instrument was abundant in that room so rife with technological devices: electricity. The aftermath of Ronin's initial escape left stray whips of electrically charged wires and cables hanging arbitrarily from virtually every conceivable outlet throughout the lab.

Instinctively, Ronin tore the thick rubber-soled boots from the feet of one of the deceased security guards and fastened them to his own. An uncannily convenient fit. The exposed electricity dangling hazardously near to the pervasively soaked concrete floor posed a fatal threat to his naked body void of any protective insulation.

Scaling a nearby computer console in a series of impressive and veritably graceful bounds, Ronin secured a firm grip on the insulated segment of a dense cluster of electrical cables, the end of which sparked menacingly in a flare of several wire strands. With a barbaric exertion of pure physical strength, Ronin dislodged the cable from the titanium metal clamps, which snapped feebly against the stress of such power. Vigorously pulling a length of slack cord from the decimated central power console, the young Destrillian wielded a crude yet efficient contrivance to exact a lethal toll on any who oppose him.

Ronin turned his full attentive gaze toward the jammed steel blast-door. The footsteps in the corridor had now halted just beyond that sealed barrier. ...They're here... He knew it was merely a matter of time before the armed dispatch broke through the steel barricade by whatever desperate means necessary. Surveying the lab one last time, Ronin hoped to exploit another of his supernatural advantages. Vision. Leaping atop a control panel, he balled his fist tightly, and blasted a gaping hole into an exhaust duct overhead, from which a heavy, heated haze surged through and inundated the room, rapidly filling the area in seconds. The billowing nebulous of polluted air created the perfect veil in which he could move freely and virtually undetected. With the eyes of a Destrillian, especially one who bore the blinding power of darkness itself, the opacity of the clouded room posed no hindrance to his eyesight.

Outside the door, five armed guards stood poised to infiltrate the Prototype 5 Cryogenics Laboratory. None but their captain had ever encountered a Destrillian prototype in the past, and none had ever faced the destructive power and cunning intelligence of such a biologically advanced being. As one guard planted a pair of plastic explosives on key stress points of the steel barrier, their commanding officer spoke in a stern tonality, warning his men of this unknown threat.

"Listen up men. This is our first engagement of the enemy. We shoot to kill. Do not hesitate or show fear, because your enemy will not. Despite what you may have heard, these are not mindless children with uncontrolled super powers. These beings, these...Destrillians...are bred and developed for one purpose and one purpose only. That purpose is to kill, by any means necessary. They are weapons of war, much the same as the very firearms you hold in your hands...only a thousand times more powerful, efficient and effective, and with a mind of their own. Be on your guard at all times, support each other, and you will all live through this."

The men nodded in unison, then swiftly retreated to a safe distance around a nearby corner to remain clear of the blast radius. Ronin responded in kind, knowing full well what devices of destruction they would employ to bring down the mighty steel door built to endure such impact. Taking shelter at a far corner of the lab, shielded among an assemblage of heavy machinery, Ronin waited for the imminent explosion. Moments later, the captain gave the order.

"Fire in the hole!"

The corridor was illuminated with a blinding light and deafening cacophony as the C-4 explosives were detonated on command, sending a shock wave through the entire level. The blast ruptured the giant door with a massive aperture. Superheated shards of fragmented steel shot randomly through the air in all directions like missiles of Hellfire and Brimstone at the advent of the apocalypse.

Embers of ruination burned persistently in the aftermath of the demolition. As the undulating smoke dispersed, the Violan security contingent regrouped just outside the perforated steel door, their backs against the wall at either side, photon weapons charged, waiting for the order of their superior to move in. The captain flashed a brief nod to all of his men, the signal to proceed with the mission. Two by two, the men filed into the wreckage of the Prototype 5 Cryogenics Laboratory, the captain trailing in the rear of the group. Instantly, the warm, weighted atmosphere consuming the lab overtook the group as the captain realized Ronin's tactic, mumbling to himself with half-hearted praise.

"You're a clever one aren't you..."

One of the guards spoke out with a noticeable perturbation in his trembling voice.

"Captain...w-what's going on?! I can't see a damn thing!"

The captain snapped back at his subordinate vehemently.

"Calm down! He's used the heating exhaust ventilation ducts to his advantage. The room temperature matches his body temperature rendering infrared detection useless. We're blindfolded."

"But sir!--"

"You have four alternative senses soldier. Use them! All of you stay close together and stay on your guard."

The group stepped lightly in the intermingling liquids that coated the slippery concrete floor. Ronin could easily distinguish the latent fear boiling within each of them, including their commanding officer. He was ready to make his move. Enveloped in the opaque shroud of fume that filled the lab, Ronin stood mere feet from the group of Violan security undetected as he drew back the electrical whip in his hand and lashed forward with a violent stroke swiping a glancing blow to the cheek of one guard while wrapping around the neck of another tightly. The man gargled incoherently as the others attempted in vain to ascertain from which direction the attack came.

With his catch secured, Ronin gave an unforgiving pull, forcing the soldier crashing to the ground at which point his body became the medium between the electric current that ensnared his neck, and the blood-stained fluids that flooded the floor. A massive power surge coursed through the man's body as his muscles contracted wildly causing violent convulsions as he writhed in agony supine. Flesh melted like cheese, and his face was charred black as the electricity cooked his meaty existence completely. Frantically searching for their fallen comrade, another guard managed to grab hold of the corpses' arm, allowing the surging electrical current to arc into his body as well, repeating the gruesome process of electrocution and death.

The rancid stench of scorched human flesh chokes the air from the lungs of the three remaining guards as they huddle together in a futile formation to protect one another from the unseen fatality that awaits each of them; death itself looming ominously in shadow and smoke.

Wasting no time, Ronin hurls his steel shelving bracket as a spear, which accurately finds its mark piercing directly through the heart of the nearest soldier, who falls to the floor lifeless in an instant, a pool of blood accumulating around the cadaver. In a fleeting glance, the final two Violan guards catch an eerie glimpse of a glowing pair of yellow eyes, barely visible through the dense fog, though unmistakably belonging to their attacker. Discharging their rifles, the two fill the laboratory with bolts of photon energy, devastating what little structure throughout the room had not yet been destroyed. Their misguided aim was of no concern to the enraged Destrillian, who proceeded to dart into the center of the pair, bending down to sweep the two off their feet while ripping their distasteful weapons from their grip in a fluid motion as he regains an upright posture.

Tossing the photon rifles aside, and out of reach, Ronin drags one guard by the ankle to the cryogenic sleep chamber he recently broke free from. Fruitlessly flailing about, the man fails to resist his enemy's formidable strength as Ronin forces the guard onto the platform, physically restraining him with one arm while pulling a tube from overhead, fiercely thrusting the end into the soldier's mouth while flipping a switch on the chamber control console, sending a tubular river of cryogenic fluid flowing into the man's throat, filling his esophagus, trachea, lungs, and nasal passages. Within seconds the man drowns from the violent intrusion of this quasi-congealed substance, pumping relentlessly through his respiratory system. With a slight grin of satisfaction, Ronin turns to the final victim.

The captain struggles to his feet, stumbling towards the door in a hopeless escape effort. Charging the man at full speed, Ronin drives his shoulder into the disoriented captain's ribs, as the two reel through the obliterated steel door and crash explosively into the wall across the corridor. The impact crushes several of the man's ribs, which in turn pierce his lungs causing him to violently cough up blood, laboriously wheezing. Pinned by his enemy, their eyes meet, the frightful pale orbs of the captain staring into the ominous, sanguine amber glare of the Shadow Star. Between fits of coughing, the senior soldier mustered a curious question.

"What...are you?"

Pausing for a moment in thought, Ronin answers the dying man's inquiry.

"...A person. Not a weapon."

Leaning in closer to the captain, Ronin exerts greater pressure on the man's crushed ribs as he issues his own interrogation.

"Tell me, where is Dr. Bayley? We have much to discuss."

In a swift retort, the defiant man spat back, blood dripping from his lips as he continued to writhe in pain.

"Go to Hell, freak!"

With his undesired response Ronin dropped the captain from his pinned position. Grabbing an arm, the Destrillian drags his adversary to the improvised entrance of the security team. The edges of the steel door, sharp, and still hundreds of degrees in temperature. Placing the midpoint of his forearm across a serrated, superheated edge of the ruptured door, Ronin snaps the man's arm at the bone, breaking it while searing and slicing skin and tissue to completely sever the limb from the victim's body. The captains' screams echo through the wide halls of sub-level 5 and Ronin examines the detached appendage grinning triumphantly at the sharp tip of the bone. Pulling the officer's long knife from its belt holster, he carves the flesh from the bone meticulously, leaving a sharpened stake what was was a human arm. Pressing the tip under the chin of the soldier, Ronin remains in a seemingly placid mood.

"After you sir."

In a swift thrusting motion he drives the man's forearm up through his mouth and into his brain, killing him instantly.

Stretching his cognitive senses, Ronin confirms the presence of two of his kin nearby. ...Together we are stronger... Hurriedly, Ronin relieves his deceased foe of his pants, slipping them on over the boots and fastening them to his waist with the officer's belt. Sheathing the knife in its holster he sprints down the hall intently, following the sensory signatures of his closest brethren.
Meteo is offline  
Old 05/25/2009   #15
Hisako
Default

Humming. Erthys had tried it once, when he suddenly and inexplicably heard a little catchy tune of music. It came and went in an instant, but he tried the humming (as the scientist’s records accompanying the log would have said, “just to try on for size”) and it became addictive.
It was a few lines of notes, no more than a minute or so, but it never got tiring. At least, to him: one or two of the others mentioned something about finding something different to hum every once in a while.

And so it was also at this point, walking along a relatively deserted corridor, with the faint smell of blood in the distance, the guards looking in the completely wrong place for Erthys or being slaughtered by the other Destrillians, wearing someone else’s labcoat, trousers and shoes and being inconspicuous, that Erthys hummed his tune.

He made a mental note to find out exactly what the tune was before he left.

Nearby screams echoed through the corridor. He wasn’t sure of what it was, but he was sure that he wasn’t keen on finding out what it was. He hadn’t been caught out from his disguise, and he wasn’t planning for that to happen anytime soon either.

It wasn’t difficult to pick up the waves of emotions stemming from the psychic impulses coming from his brothers and sisters. Confused joy. Maniacal bliss. Apprehensiveness. Blind pain. Lethargic euphoria. Adding to that the flickering little echoes coming from their would-be captors – generally just pain, despair, and agony.

Erthys sighed as he electrocuted a pair of unsuspecting guards in front of him like a taser. He counted himself as blessed to be bestowed with the power not only to kill, to ravage until the victim was indistinguishable from ash and smoke, but also to just incapacitate and knock out for a good period of time.

As the two soldiers slumped to the ground, twitching like floundering fish, he wondered if the other Destrillians knew exactly how much less energy it took to simply knock them out than to tear off every limb or shrivel their bodies into warped husks. Or whatever sort of action that derived sadistic pleasure.

It was, after all, a law found in the very ideas in physics – a multitude of objects would statistically prefer a path of least resistance.

As a victim close-by screamed out in agony, Erthys sighed again as he replaced his new clothes with the outfit of one of the guards, keeping the gun just for aesthetics. In the disguise, he’d get through this level a lot faster amid the chaos. As the now half-naked guard of the two attempted to grab at Erthys’ leg, he was given a second jab of electricity for good measure, while the twitching pain at the base of Erthys’ skull twitched just a fraction harder.

He did away with the helmet, just in case the other Destrillians had half a mind to deep-fry him or grate him into shreds.

On he walked, searching for any of his brethren, finding mostly nothing but bits and pieces of corpses lying everywhere and floors slicked with blood, water, and thick slimy goop. There was simply a trail of wanton destruction wherever he followed.

Erthys spotted another body, that of a scientist, except that he was completely burnt into the floor rather like an overbaked biscuit. Erthys looked around and hardly flinched as a still flailing electrical cable smacked him in the stomach, letting normally lethal discharge bleed out into the floor. The fact that the entire room looked like it had been destroyed mere minutes ago told him that he was close to finding one of theirs.

The moment of attempted forensic analysis (which brought about a sense of self-satisfaction that may have been logged had the machine for logging such data not short-circuited) was interrupted by a flash of woman crash-tackling Erthys rather hard into the ground.

Erthys was by no means a man easily knocked over, much less one to be taken by surprise, and so at that point he was quite interested as to who exactly managed to pull off this particular feat. He began, quite slowly, with the broken piece of glass tube that a slender, pale hand was holding against his neck, moving up to a well-toned arm, to a shoulder partially covered by bleach-white hair, and then to the face.

A face not quite in the right mind.

“Sierra, my dear-” the ‘dear’ added with a little more presence, “- I’m quite happy to see you too. But tell me, was killing one of your brothers part of the plan?”
The stark naked woman perched in front of him seemed to phase out even further at the mention of “one of your brothers”, and sat down, quite confused, on top of Erthys.

Erthys tilted his head (as he now could without the danger of being stabbed in the larynx), and smiled a tiny smile in bemusement. I don’t think I’ve quite seen her from this angle. No, I don’t think so. He tried getting up, but it was difficult with Sierra planted on his waist, pinning him to the floor.
“Ummm… Sierra?”

Last edited by Hisako; 05/25/2009 at 02:42 PM.
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