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Thread: [M|IC] A Treatise on the Nature of Genetic Experimentation [Hannelorian and Naming]

  1. #11
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    After just a few halting steps, 427’s curious exploration quickly stalled. With two possible paths he could take, the relative safety of the testing chamber behind him, and no knowledge of what was happening, the experiment quickly found himself unable to decide on the best course of action. Choice paralysis draped itself around his shoulders like a blanket, weighing down his limbs like a physical force, urging him towards stillness. Was this a new experiment, a test of obedience, or had something genuinely gone wrong? Should he simply stay in the room and wait, or explore and see what he might find? Which path should he take, if he wanted to find the exit? After spending so long trapped here, with every part of his life carefully monitored and planned out in advance, making a proper choice suddenly felt impossible.

    427 tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of order, and it soon dawned on him that, regardless of the outcome, one choice was inevitably better than the other. If he chose to return to his testing chambers and wait then, right or wrong, he’d remain a captive for the rest of his life. If he chose to explore, though…well, there was a chance, however slim, that something was actually wrong here, and this was his one chance to escape. He glanced down the hallway in both directions, before finally urging himself to move. He forced strength into his frozen limbs, and began the slow walk down the hallway on his left. This particular choice would always remain ambivalent, and trying to debate it further would only cost him time.

    It didn’t take him long before he remembered the other experiment, who was undoubtedly still lying on the floor of the test chamber, bloodied and broken. She would survive her wounds, he knew – she always did. The recovery process, however, would be both lengthy and painful. It might be hours before she had healed enough to move again. She was unable to make her own choice, all because of him. Did that mean it was his responsibility to bring her? Death would never be an out for her, 427 knew. Could he really make a decision like this on her behalf? Could he even afford to bring her, if doing so would hamper his own progress? The questions threatened to overwhelm him again, flooding his mind, churning around endlessly, until he decided that it was simply too risky.

    “I’m sorry, but…I can’t.” 427 whispered his meagre apology, fully aware that the girl wouldn’t be able to hear him. He glanced back over his shoulder, stared at the half-open for a long moment, before finally turning away. He willed himself to take that first step, and then another, and another. He turned the corner, and realised that he had no idea when he’d started to cry.

    The simple action of putting one foot in front of another seemed to spur 427’s mind onwards, too. Now that he were moving, it was easier to think through what came next. It didn’t take him long to decide that if he were going to do this, if he were willing to abandon that girl to her fate for the sake of his own freedom, that he had better do everything he could to ensure his success. Regardless of whether this were a test or a genuine chance at escape, he had to maximize his odds, capitalize on this chance. Use the cursed powers that this place had forced upon him, in order to win his way free of it. He felt tired already. Drained, after the adrenaline from before had fled his system. But he thought he had enough strength for a few more summonings, if push came to shove.

    It had been a long time since he’d had to call on Sesta. The scientists here usually preferred testing the more violent of his tattoos. This situation, however, seemed perfectly suited to her. Her small size and quiet speed would make her a useful scout. The fox usually came easier than most of his other tattoos, too. Manifested and obeyed willingly, without fighting him for control the way the others did. With that in mind, he raised his hand. Watched as she scurried down his arm to sit in the middle of his palm, as if she’d sensed his intentions. Their earlier spat was nothing now, compared to the needs of his current situation.

    A few seconds of focus were all it took. Another plume of inky black smoke, smaller than the last, erupted from the middle of his palm. It moved with purpose, coagulated, until Sesta sat on the floor in front of him, in all of her furred glory. Seated in the middle of the hallway, with her tail wrapped around her feet, and her head tilted to one side slightly, she seemed perfectly at ease. The colours of her fur were muted by the strange red light, but otherwise, she looked exactly as he remembered her. Unchanged by all the years they’d spent together.

    “Sesta, would you mind going on ahead? Look for anything that might be an exit, or warn me if there are any guards?” The fox seemed to regard him in silence for a moment, before she sprung into motion. Moving with effortless feline grace, she rose and turned away, heading further down the hallway. Even watching her, the soft pad of her feet against the cold floor was almost inaudible. 427 watched as she disappeared around the next corner, only to poke her head back into sight a moment later. Realisation dawned on him, and he quickly moved to follow.

    The two of them moved in tandem, slowly creeping down one hallway after another. 427 tried to consult the maps he’d managed to assemble in his mind over the years, but getting his bearings was proving difficult. He had no idea what was behind any of the doors that they passed, and in all the time he’d spent here, he’d never seen anything that resembled an exit. Idly, his gaze drifted to another of the large, metallic doors as he passed it. Should he look inside, just to see what was there? What if he bumped into a bunch of guards unwittingly, or another frightened experiment, who might attack him on sight? Would the exit look any different, or might they have passed it already without realising? More good questions, with no answers to be found.

    427 was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t realise he was no longer alone. That someone else was here, in the hallway with him, and getting closer. Had he not been listening so intently, just in case Sesta returned with guards in tow, he might have missed the single word she offered as a greeting. As it was, the sound of another human voice was jarring. The only times he ever heard another human voice was when the guards were reprimanding him, or when the scientists were speaking to him. Fearing an attack, his reaction was a touch extreme. He flinched away from the source of the sound, taking a few steps back and holding his arms up in front of him, as if he were trying to ward off the blow that would inevitably follow.

    When the blow failed to come, 427 lowered his arms, just a fraction. His gaze quickly settled on 539, but understanding was slow to follow. He lowered his arms the rest of the way and straightened up. The fear on his face was replaced by disbelief, written plainly across his features for all to see.

    “You’re…”

    427 tried to respond, only for the words to die on his lips. He found himself suddenly, painfully aware of how dry his throat currently was. Of how raspy his own voice sounded, even to his own ears, after such an extended period of disuse. She was here. Real flesh and blood, standing before him. The girl he had watched from the other side of the glass, day after day. Just one of two friends he had in this place. The girl who had risked punishment to try and forestall his own, just one day ago. The girl who had somehow smiled, despite the pain, when her crazy plan had succeeded. The most recent in a long line of people he’d feared to see die in this place. The first person he’d met, truly met, in the uncountable years he’d spent here. Assuming one didn’t count the brutish guards, of course.

    What the hell was he supposed to say to her? Was he supposed to ask what she was doing out here? The same thing as he was, probably. Ask if she knew a way out? Why would she? He wanted to ask for her name, offer her his thanks, show his appreciation, but words failed him. His tongue sat heavy and leaden in his mouth, and 427 willed it to move. Willed himself to say something, anything-

    “Do you know what’s going on?”

    As soon as the words slipped from his lips, 427 cringed at his own lack of social grace. Of all the possibilities, that was what his mind had settled on? This was how he treated their first meeting? The hello he thought they’d never get to have? Perhaps it was to be expected, after so long spent in isolation….and survival had to come first, he supposed. Idle thoughts, lies 427 told himself to make himself feel better. If they ever got a second chance, made it through today alive, then he’d have to try and make amends then.

    Thankfully, 427 wasn’t given very long to dwell on his mistakes. Their first meeting was quickly interrupted by the sounds of Sesta’s hurried footfalls, much heavier and much more urgent than when she’d gone on ahead. 427 glanced over his own shoulder just in time to see the small inkwork fox round the corner, and rush towards him. She let loose with several quick yaps – almost like a dog’s bark, except they were softer, and higher in pitch. 427 understood her meaning immediately. If she were simply worried he’d stopped following, then another stare would have been enough. No. There was only one thing that would make her act as upset and hurried as this. They were about to have company.

    427’s attention snapped back to 539. Eyes wide, the look on his face was panicked. Urgent. “Guards. Coming this way. We need to run, or hide, or something. Fast.”

    Had he been standing opposite anyone else, 427 would already be moving. He would have started to run, and only shouted his warning as an afterthought. Put his own survival first, to the exclusion of all else. Gotten a head start, and not have minded too much if someone else had died to slow the guards down. Not this time, though. He’d already abandoned one person today – he refused to lose his lunch date, too. Whatever they were going to do, be it fight or flee, they would do it together.

  2. #12
    The Grey Lady
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    The very moment 427 turned around and spoke 539 found herself transfixed. Despite the dim red lighting and the sound of the klaxon she was unable to move. Was this real? Was she here at this moment? The freedom of the last few moments had seemed like some kind of cruel trick. They had been freed, and in her quest for freedom, or simply for something different she had found him. 539 felt her face contort into an uncomfortable smile. Not one that was forced, no. Simply one that had been so unfamiliar to her, save for small moments of rebellion that it almost felt wrong, some kind of sin.

    When his voice hit her ears, she was instantly brought back to her dream. The two seated in white chairs against the emerald field. Side by side, as though they had known each other their whole lives long. The voice she had created for him suddenly replaced by his own. 427 had a voice and it was divine. Lunch date sounded nothing like she had imagined. After all, in her isolation how could she have imagined anything? It had a distinct rasp, the sound of a voice which had not had practice, she considered it was perhaps like her own in that regard.

    539 recalled the fateful moment in her dream in which the tuxedo'd or suited 427 sat beside her, shot, dying limped and slumped into her lap. The moment in which she raised her hand up as a signal, calling the for the guards to take her own life as all hope had been lost. Feeling the pain of the shot to her chest she finally came to, back to the present moment. He had asked if she knew what was happening. She didn't, at least not entirely. There were bits and pieces of the previous events that made sense to her, so she did the only thing she knew how, answering his question.

    "The power went out."

    It had been a simple answer to a simple question. She paid no mind to the fact that those first words he had spoken to her, ever, were not ideal. 539 had no expectations, for a part of her still denied the fact that any of this was real. Even those four words, simple as they were seemed unreal. Aside from "yes" "no" "don't' "please" she could hardly recall speaking a sentence. Perhaps she had spoken one, but it hardly seemed to matter now.

    There was a strange sound that came down the hall, it was unfamiliar as opposed to the creature that made it. An inky mist charged toward them, the figure of a fox clear as a bell leading ahead. It was the very same fox that had scurried across lunch date's face. The same fox she had taken a beating to conceal. Yet here it was manifest, tattoo somehow made real, perhaps it had been alive. 539 had no questions in that instant. After what they had done to her, she didn't dare question what the powers that be had done to anyone else.

    Sesta had come with a warning, there was danger on their heels. 539 was not phased, she simply looked at her lunch date and smiled as his gave his assessment:

    “Guards. Coming this way. We need to run, or hide, or something. Fast.”

    His words washed over her. She understood each word individually and after a moment she understood them as a whole. She would not run. Not anymore. "No." was all 539 could muster, a smile still on her face as she stood steadfast, the guards coming the corner and into view. "Save yourself." She spoke clearly, determined and ready for a fight, 539 turned her attention back to the trio running at them with guns in hand. It was unclear whether or not they were the target, or if they were simply in the way of a greater task she could not comprehend at present. 539 had enough.

    The slim girl had closed her eyes and listened with every fiber of focus she had within her. Three distinct heart beats, three blood flows pulsing through their veins. The sound was intoxicating. Likely something her captors had not taken into account. It was through her will power alone that she could persevere. Raising a single hand out in front of her, the guards had stopped in their place. A second hand now outstretched with palm flat facing the ceiling, fingers curling inwards as though she were beckoning them forward. The moments would pass like hours, and a red mist would slowly manifest itself around the frozen guards. If one could look close enough, the source of the mist was the guards themselves. Tiny droplets of blood leaching from their skin and suspending themselves in the air.

    The mist grew greater and greater until it resembled an enormous cloud shrouding the guards entirely. It was at the moment when it seemed the cloud could grow no larger, 539 dropped her hands to her sides. The red mist had fallen at once as though gravity had suddenly and rapidly won the battle, a thick rain of crimson blood fell to the ground and with it the lifeless body of the guards. The smile had long faded from her face, she returned her attention to her lunch date and moved toward him, moving past him she turned her head. "Let's go." She seemed unphased by the violence she had rained down, though it had itched at the edges of her mind. He was right, they needed to move. "I'm the Queen of the castle." She whispered harkening back to a song she had not heard in a great many years.

    Ahead was the heat of flames, the sound of screaming. Every thing once held in cages now released. The masters were now left to cower in fear of their creations. Revenge was upon them and nothing, not even their precious Gods could save them now.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  3. #13
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    ‘No’. A powerful word, for all of its brevity. Refusal was a luxury that 427 hadn’t experienced in a long time, and not for lack of trying. Given their similar circumstances, he imagined that 539 felt much the same. Hearing that simple word upon her lips was something of an unexpected thrill, more powerful than he ever would have anticipated. And yet, 427 feared what it would mean for the both of them. He wanted to avoid causing any more pain, but had resolved to do whatever was necessary to escape this cursed place. To stay with her, until they could put this endless nightmare behind them. If she would not run, and would not hide, then that left them with no other choice. They would have to fight. He would have to fight.

    Mustering up his strength, 427 turned to face the same direction that Sesta had approached from. He ignored the small inkwork fox as it darted towards him, and hid itself behind one of his legs. Instead, he rolled up the sleeve of his jumpsuit, and called the bull to the fore. The first few meagre wisps of smoke had begun to rise from his skin when the guards rounded the corner, and stepped into view. 427 made it no further. Before the beast could rip itself free of his skin, all three of the guards froze. Paused mid stride, in a way their momentum should have deemed impossible.

    The strange red mist that followed seemed to surround them from nowhere was enough to leave him transfixed, for a moment. A single glance at 539 was enough to see his suspicions confirmed. Her raised arms left no doubt as to the source of this strange phenomenon. She was cursed, just the same as him. He didn’t have enough information to guess at specifics, but this display alone was enough to leave him shocked. Horrified, even. He was a supernatural weapon, same as her, but that was where the similarities ended. The death he carried was a tangible thing. One could see his animals. Fight back or flee from his gruesome menagerie. The invisible forces at 539’s command, evoked so quickly, was another matter entirely.

    The sound of the bodies hitting the floor, of their blood literally raining down, was enough to drag 427’s attention back to the present. This wasn’t the time or the place for such pointless philosophising. Besides, she’d made the conscious choice to leave him alive, and had only killed a few guards. Their tormenters. They’d both have to kill if they really wanted to escape this place, and 427 doubted that he was anywhere near the top of her list. With that in mind, he moved aside as 539 brushed past him. With one last glance at the immobile bodies of the fallen guards, he turned away, and fell into step behind her.

    Even with Sesta fulfilling her role as a scout, it soon became impossible for the two intrepid explorers to avoid bearing witness to further carnage. Gunshots began to ring out, soft and distant, echoing throughout the facility’s winding halls. They always came in short bursts; a flurry of noise that quickly fell back into silence, leaving the fates of those involved unknown. Was it the guards who had died, or their targets? The first time was enough to make 427 pause, but it wasn’t long before he began to regard them as background noise. Little more than ambience, uncannily fitting for this place.

    Not long after the shooting started, they began to find bodies. 427 turned down the next corridor and was greeted with the sight of another child in a jumpsuit, lying in an awkward position. The blood that was smeared across their body, and the growing puddle of crimson beneath them, was enough to confirm their fate, even before the two of them got close. A litany of bullet holes left no doubt as to the cause of their untimely death. 427 met the unfortunate boy’s vacant eyes for just a moment, before he stepped around the body gingerly, and continued to follow his partner onwards.

    They became more frequent after that. Former prisoners lay in all manner of awkward and painful positions. Many of them were clutching at nearby doors, as if they had been trying to seek refuge in – or perhaps from – their final moments. The former guards they found were a little more varied. Most of them had been killed in strange and exotic ways. One looked to have been torn limb from limb, whilst another would have seemed perfectly fine, if not for the sickly green pallor their death had granted them. One hallway was covered in scorch marks, almost from end to end, and filled with bodies charred so badly that it was impossible to tell who they might have been. The smell was sickening, but even so, 427 pressed onwards

    All of it served as a silent answer to 427’s earlier question. The more they witnessed, the more convinced he became that this wasn’t some sort of test or training drill. The power failure had been genuine, and they had an actual chance at escape here today. Whichever way it ended, they wouldn’t be going back into their cells ever again. He had spent so long fighting just to stay alive in this place, but now that freedom had been placed within reach…well, either outcome seemed better than a return to the way things had been before.

    As they walked, 427’s gaze drifted over the body of yet another guard. This one was mostly intact, with all of his equipment and weaponry lying nearby. Out of nowhere, an idea struck him. He’d been wondering, earlier, if there was a better way to go about this. A more efficient solution than just wandering aimlessly until they found an exit, or the power came back on, or a guard got the drop on them. Well, perhaps there was.

    “Hold on for a moment.”

    Without waiting to see if 539 stopped, he kneeled down alongside the guard’s fallen body. After a brief moment of apprehension, 427 leaned forward and began to rifle through the man’s pockets. He was quick to discard the idea of taking the guard’s weapons – the two of them were already more versatile and more deadly than the guns he carried, and 427 didn’t want that sort of responsibility. He had no idea how to use one, either, and didn’t want to risk injuring himself or 539 by accident. If they were lucky, though, the man would have something else they could use. A map that they gave to new guards, or maybe…

    “A key.”

    427 rose, a lanyard in his hand. At the end of it dangled an ID badge, bearing a picture of the deceased guard’s face. A few unfamiliar words were scrawled underneath, but he paid them no mind. He turned to face 539, holding it out so that she might see.

    “Now we have a backup plan.”

  4. #14
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    After she had robbed the guards of their lives, 539 pushed past 427 purposefully. For a time, she could not stand the thought of looking at his face after what she had done. He must of thought her a monster, much as she had imagined of herself. Yes, he too was capable of something she barely understood, but she chose violence. 539, instead of running chose to stand and fight those who held her, those who held up the very structure that transformed her from a mere human into this... whatever this was. Would he be afraid of her? She felt a sense of guilt for not even considering him when she made her decision. All she wanted to do was to protect him, she had nothing else, no one else.

    The gun fire that rang out and fell silent were merely the harbingers of what they were to find. One thing, above all, could still shock 539. As they moved, 427 carefully, delicately maneuvered himself around the broken body of a child. Her eyes grew wide with shock, with heartbreak. Perhaps that was another difference, though she could not know it then. 427 had encountered children during his time, but she had not. "Children... they did this... to children?" She raised a hand to her chest, clutching at it as though all the air had left her lungs, she was in disbelief. Later, 539 would not be quite so shocked, given the cruelty inflicted upon them, the amorality of it, it should have been no surprise that children too were victims of this cruel endeavor. Before they moved on, she knelt down and ran her hand along the boy's face, closing his eyes as she did so. "Rest..." she whispered and the pair continued on.

    As the bodies piled up with alarming frequency, it clearly meant they were getting closer to something. The bodies that littered the halls were all sorts of shocking states, prisoner and guard alike. The stench in the air was foul, almost enough to knock the wind out of you, to make you eject everything you'd eaten and then some. It was almost too horrible to believe. Almost. It was then that 539 realized just how clever 427 was. He was thinking clearly, at the very least more clearly than she had been. He had searched an intact guard for a key, for anything that was useful.

    "Clever." She said aloud as her eyes scanned the ID that he presented her. "We.. have to think..." This place, this corridor was familiar to her and now she was wracking her brain desperately to try and recall when she had been here, or why. If she thought hard enough she could hear the sound of wheels running along the linoleum floor, she could see the flash of the overhead lights as she passed beneath them undoubtedly restrained on a gurney. "Operating theatre..." 539 sounded hesitant, she had to quickly bring herself back to the present moment, it would do none of them good if she continued to remember what came next. Looking down the hall she nodded in her own affirmation. "A few hundred meters down... is the operating theatre, have you been?" 539 asked, not as though it were some tourist destination, but rather a chamber of absolute hell, of torture where they did all sorts of things to them for god only knows what reason.

    "Inside...there's a heavy door, only... the white coats use the door. Never guards..." The scientists rarely made an absolute physical appearance, usually they remained behind glass walls, or up in high viewing boxes, but not this time. "I think... there's a central structure... and all of this... radiates outward from it. If we can get there..." 539 understood there was an unseen world to this complex, where the scientists did all their work, took their meals, slept, everything. A world they were not privy to. But surely they would have a way out. The only problem was that the sounds of violence grew louder from the direction they needed to move in, and the temperature was dramatically rising, leaving no doubt that somewhere ahead was an inferno.
    Thanks to Hayabusa/Ryoku for the set.

  5. #15
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    Given how intent 539 had seemed on driving them forward earlier, 427 had half expected her to take the keycard from him. The fact that she refrained was comforting, after the concerns her earlier display had raised. After a few moments of internal debate, he took a moment to slip the lanyard over his head, so that the key came to rest against his chest. Wearing something taken from the dead felt wrong, but this wasn’t the time to be squeamish. He felt the need to keep both of his hands free, just in case, and their jumpsuits didn’t have pockets. With that taken care of, 427 turned his attention to the matter at hand.

    The operating theatre. The name alone was enough to dredge up several deeply unpleasant memories, and drag them to the front of 427’s mind. The sterile smell of cleaning chemicals. Bright overhead lights. Large machines, their purposes incomprehensible, and all the more terrifying for it. The buzz of a tattoo gun, and the prick of hundreds of needles against his skin, for hours on end, without respite. It was the place where they had given him Sesta…and cursed him with all the monstrosities that followed. Just thinking on it was enough to send a shiver down his spine. 427 nodded a hasty acknowledgement, before he could dwell on it for too long. The large door, on the other hand…he had almost forgotten that it existed, distracted as he had been, but 539’s words conjured up an image of it. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was implying.

    “If we can get past it, then we can find the place where the white-coats leave from, or bring new people in.” 427 finished the thought of his own accord, speaking the words softly. His expression hardened then, a hint of resolve creeping into his expression. This was the exact breakthrough he’d been waiting for. The sense of direction he had needed. Now there wouldn’t be any more aimless wandering. They had a concrete goal they could work towards. Knew where to start, and what to look for. With that in mind, he turned his attention towards the far end of the hallway again. Sesta, sensing his intentions darted off, and 427 was quick to follow.

    427 moved faster, now that they had a specific destination in mind. There was no point in lingering – every moment they wasted was another moment in which more of the facility’s guards might stumble upon them. He followed Sesta closely, and simply trusted that 539 was close behind. As the two of them got closer to the operating theatre, however, the hallway began to fill with smoke. It was mild at first – a few shadowy wisps that clung to the ceiling, largely transparent, too high to be noticeable. The closer they came, however, the thicker it grew. The burning smell began to get stronger, to the point of being overpowering, and 427 found his eyes starting to water. Something big had happened up ahead, and he doubted that it was a coincidence.

    When they arrived, the two aspiring escapees found the operating theatre in a state of complete disarray. The doors had been thrown wide, hard enough to almost rip them free of their hinges. Broken machinery lay everywhere, strewn about the circular room with reckless abandon. Shattered glass, metal trays, and an assortment of surgical instruments were scattered across the floor, interrupted only by the presence of several more ashen bodies. Only the operating table itself, anchored to the floor in the middle of the room, seemed untouched by the carnage.

    All of this, however, paled in comparison to the large, metal door on the far side of the room…or rather, the place that the door had once occupied. Instead of another barrier, 427 was greeted by the sight of a large, gaping hole in the wall. A few pieces of twisted and deformed metal remained, just around the edges. Most of them were still hot enough to glow. He was no expert, but to 427’s eye, it looked as if someone had melted it, somehow. Burned their way out, quite literally. Had it been locked, unlike the others, or had the person responsible simply not cared? Either way, the implications left 427 frozen in shock, or awe. The amount of power such a feat would have required was incredible.

    “Shit…”

    The word slipped from his mouth unbidden, his voice little more than a whisper. It took 427 several moments to realise that he were blocking the door, and step inside good and proper. When he managed to recover his wits, he finally turned his attention to what lay beyond the ruined metal door. Another smoke-filled hallway, but one different from those they were used to. It was wider, and was lined with basic chairs, carts loaded with equipment, and other amenities that the white-coats had never allowed them. In the distance, 427 even thought he saw a door with a proper handle. The differences might have seemed subtle to some, but to someone who had been trapped as long as him, they were glaring. It was as if the ruined door were a portal, leading to another world. The world of the white-coats. One that offered them glimmer of hope, if they would just step over the threshold.

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