Realistic or Modern fever dreams - roleplay

[Headphones]

"Ghosts with Heartbeats" by Plastic Patina

▶

Fever

Dreams

01

In the kitchen.

Leaning against the L-shaped counter, looking at Reese.

Speaking to

REESE

"Mind getting me the bread from the box over there, Reese? I'd rather not touch it without any gloves."
"Of course."

Watching closely as the man complied with his request without a moment of hesitation, Boryan felt a sense of satisfaction, devoid of conceitedness.
Ask them of a physical favour. Say their name out loud. Give your own inaptitude as a reason for asking.
It was a tried and tested method for mitigating the tension of unfamiliarity and gaining access to a person's circle of thrust. Not to be confused with manipulation which was an ill-intentioned variant, this 'white magic' was a means for building a bridge between individuals wherein the initiator was simply aware of its execution and effects. It also made him indebted to the other person and by doing a little bit more than expected each time, the two could form a partnership beneficial for both parties. Whether or not this would have a positive outcome largely depended on the extent of interest Reese had in him and his notion of teamwork in general. Considering his behaviour thus far, it would certainly not be an effortless undertaking, yet with just the right amount of coaxing and space, it looked as though the touch-me-not had unfurled its leaves.

With the bread now safely on the chopping board, Boryan proceeded to cut its width in half, separating the top from the bottom. He then retrieved a block of parmesan from the fridge and began quickly grating some of it into the bowl with the paste of butter, garlic and parsley.

"Well, since you seem to know so much." Reese spoke just as the feline had finished adding the final ingredient and was mixing one last time. "Do you know why they made you like this?" he asked, yet received no immediate answer. As his intonation hinted that there was more to be said, Boryan chose to politely wait without halt in his work. "I've been here a long time, but time is hard to judge without windows or clocks." The chef grabbed a knife and evenly spread the paste on the soft side of the bread pieces as the man continued. "Anytime I’ve been given a hint at how long it’s been, I'm never sure if it’s true. Between experiments, tests, whatever mind games they play, I’ve just accepted how things are." He found the tin foil intuitively in the drawer beside the one with utensils and used it to cover a baking sheet he had discovered in the inbuilt storage of one of the ovens. Then, he placed the garlic bread on top and sent the arrangement into said oven at 200 degrees Celsius, setting the timer for 10 minutes. "It seems you have, too. Or do you actually like working for them?"

The final question was exhaled from the man's tired lungs in tandem with the opening of one of the upper wall cabinets.

'Probably looks like I do. Not that it's a lie, in and of itself.' Boryan thought as he got out a big jar full of rice and set it on the counter. 'Whether we're up there or down here, we'd suffer either way. More importantly . . .'

He glanced at Reese as he went to look for a colander in the kitchen isle. The man bore a haggard expression, as though the brief act of sweeping the floor had drained what little energy he had had, the final drops drifting away with their conversation. One hand as an aid to lean against the counter whilst the other burrowed into his silky black hair, caressing his temple, his eyes, which had the glimmer of a sharp blade, were now half-lidded as he tried to arrange the strings of thought in the loom that was his mind.

'Why would he ask? If they tasked you with checking where our loyalties lie, you're doing a poor job. Hmm, it doesn't quite match you either. It's counterintuitive to pick an anxious introvert. Maybe they want to see how we'd react?' Boryan pondered as he looked around his close proximity and lifted the dirty kitchenware with his power. 'I don't have anything to hide. The current overseers will come to know that, just as the CaTS Division.'

“I thought maybe you were a cat they gave intelligence to. Like the… Ninja Turtles.” Reese cleared his throat at the end of that comparison, yet even this and the light bumping of the dishes as they were placed in the sink couldn't stop Boryan from hearing it.
'Can't remember his life for the life of him, but he knows about the Ninja Turtles.' the cat of 180 cm height thought as he walked towards the dish storage. The single audible brief exhale which he gave in response was the only way with which he could convey that he found the remark amusing.
“But it seems it’s the opposite." Reese clarified. "I thought this place just made people like me into monsters, I didn’t know they took kind people like you and changed your entire form."
'. . . Kind?' the word repeated within his mind as he reached the cabinet.
"I thought this place held criminals and used them as expendable guinea pigs."
Criminals.
A nameless something deep within him stung.
"But you’re nice to us and seem concerned with our health."
Nice.
And it was bitter.
"If you weren’t born here, then… Why do you do what they want you to do?”

By now, he had taken a bowl out and shut the door neatly. Staying in place whilst facing his new companion, one set of yellow flashlights shone against the brightness of two blue moons.

"Rather, why are you able to do it without concern? How long have they kept you here?"

Silence swept the seconds which followed, the ticking of the clock above the double door barely audible to the ear. Boryan gazed at this man who looked to be around his age, this reserved, wary man, who had taken one step after the other with his words, making him recall things he had assumed to have been accepted and dismissed. Indeed, Reese was correct in that this place held criminals for experimental purposes. The living proof was the one he had so easily described as 'kind' and 'nice'. Yet this former gangster couldn't even think of an insult in retort to a stranger's nosiness. Rather, his mind had become empty. As if he were following the subtle movements of the clouds that blanketed the sky in uniform grey, it was a serenity without comfort, but a keen awareness of being in the present. Only the dull ache in the centre of his chest served as a reminder that the past, though acknowledged, could still make one feel undeserving. That, he knew, was normal. He just had to bear with it until it passed, just like the cloudy days.

"Before asking questions," Boryan spoke as calmly as before whilst walking back to the counter between the oven and the storage door. "you should eat. You look like you'll bend over any moment now."

Having arrived at his destination, he placed the colander inside the bowl and proceeded to pour rice inside it.
"I have been here for about 5 years. I know, because my work is arranged in a daily schedule using a real calendar."
Once it was full enough to match his estimation of the necessary quantity, he stopped and moved to the sink where he washed the rice.
"That is, unless the scientists messed with my sleep, but I highly doubt it." As he waited for the water to pass through the colander and occasionally emptied the bowl underneath, he looked up at Reese. "As I said in the first room, I'm from the Help Project. It's run by the Children and Teenager Safety Division, whose aim is to create household units that can take care of the home and children of high-profile figures. Not knowing how to manage my time accurately would be a huge mistake on their part and mine. Guess that's why I'm one of their 'more experienced helpers'. As for why I look like a cat, apparently, kids will find it easier to trust a pet than a human. There are other advantages ,too. Like the claws."
The rinsing water became clear, which signalled him to stop emptying the bowl. He filled it to the point of covering the rice inside the colander and set it on the counter. Since it was necessary to wait for the rice to sit in water, although he could have gone to fetch the vegetables from the storage, Boryan opted to devote his attention entirely to Reese, at least until the oven's timer beckoned him.

'Somehow, I still don't want to believe you're playing me.' he thought as he leaned his back on the inner side of the L-shaped counter, facing Reese directly. 'Either way, it doesn't matter, though, does it?'

"You're right about it being a matter of acceptance. Above, they have their own reality. This is ours. I'm told that what they do to us here can help those above, one way or another. Whether or not that's the case," he smirked. "I have no way of knowing. Still, I'd rather hold on to that and keep walking forward than wallow in despair. And," he held up his paw so that he may look at the inhibitor on his wrist. It felt looser than before. "we both saw what happens when you cause trouble. These are the unavoidable events in life. At least now, we can be there for each other." he allowed his arm to drop back down and rest his elbow on the counter. "In the end though, it's your choice. Although the current mission is vague, I've made mine."
Boryan paused shortly and followed with:
"I'm thinking of making soup tonight, though it'll be thick instead of watery. That Cetus brat already requested no pepper, so everyone will have to add it themselves. Is there anything you don't like to eat? I've been trained to cook for most tastes, so don't hold back."

Code by Nano

 

[Silvercurrent]

~interactions~

Headphones​

Taking words out of a script and reciting them tended to work in the first few years on the street, but never at the actual table. When in the presence of an unknown force, one should explore all avenues. There was some kind of voice telling him that, standing here, watching the rice swish in a colander. Boryan’s expert use of the kitchen was arresting his attention, but only half of it. Reese didn’t remember where he developed his conversational skills, because they seemed rusty and no matter what he said in this place, the reactions varied and he was sure it used to be… Smoother.


But where had they been smoother? Did he work at a large company? Each time he tried to recall, it felt like the room would tilt on him and send him sliding. Each time, further away from his train of thought. The only thing that truly stuck out concretely was his daughter. He wondered if he was a salesman, or maybe a debt collector? As he watched Boryan cook, he hooked his hands on each hip under his jacket, taking a stance much less tired and a bit more thoughtful.


Boryan was under his gaze like the glow of stadium lights; never giving an indication if he was monitoring him or simply being nice and maintaining eye contact. Reese felt himself searching that feline visage- anything that registered as human body language. Ha. He only smiled at himself and chewed on his lip, just before Boryan turned to him.


“Before asking questions, you should eat. You look like you’ll bend over any moment now.”

Reese bobbed his head in an agreeing nod. He wasn’t hungry at all, actually. He could feel his body screaming for a cigarette, only there was a pinch of pain in the base of his neck. He knew it was that weird new itch, developed over time from experimentation. In the beginning it was a dull pain, an ache that only ceased when he absorbed enough pollution. Even now, as he grinded the smallest bit of broken plate between his callus fingers and saw through his crystalline eyes each particle taint the air. He could feel the buzz on his temples. A shiver went down his spine.



It’d been too long… Since he created fresh “Black sand”. It was the only part of his modification he actually liked, when being allowed to let it out and see the form it took. Pitch darkness where even light doesn’t reflect, but seems to vanish like an optical illusion. Only the smallest grains would glitter, giving any visual feedback that it appeared to be sand. Boryan’s fur was as vast and interesting to look at, and while he was sporting the velvet coat, Reese listened to his recollection of his estimated time here. 5 years…


His eyebrows did raise, this time out of genuine shock. He fluttered his lashes, taken aback. His lungs rattled as he sucked in some air to replace the mild punch to his gut. 5 years isn’t that long, not by prison standards sure- but in THIS place it likely felt like an eternity. At least it had to him and his 2 years, what with everyday being treated like a doctor’s visit, waiting room boredom included.


Reese slipped his hands back into his pockets, using the advantage of the counter blocking both of their view of each other from the waist down. He didn’t really care if Boryan saw him hoarding broken dust shards; he’d either look like he had weird interests, or it’d look futile. But every particle counted.


“Up there?” His chin popped up into the air with great attention.

Boryan’s pacing allowed for Reese to repeat his words, but the small twitch of his whiskers betokened a smirk. Boryan was dumping ten kilos of information into Reese’s offered five kilo bag… And yet it was still vague. As he lifted his wrist and displayed his inhibitor, Reese squinted his eyes slightly. Yeah, he was wondering how the cat was making things float. For as long as he’d known, and from what he observed in the dining room, everyone had their abilities fettered.


“We both saw what happens when you cause trouble.” Oh, he had. Cetus’ inhibitors were so fried from his attempts to use his powers, Reese had seen the minor specks flying off of them from strain. His blue eyes weren’t just for show, it’d seem. He was still able to see changes in air particles.


“Soup?” Reese perked up suddenly, giving his ‘hearing aids’ a little scratch. They were more or less the same inhibitors he’d always had, but having seen Marina sing, and Boryan making kitchen utensils dance like a parade, it made him curious. As if they hadn’t just spoken of what attempts at breaking the rules did. “It’s a shame he doesn’t like Pepper. It’s nearly in everything,” Reese chuckled, then gave his shoulders a shrug. “As for me, they’ve never given me anything offensive here. The food’s always been quite clinical. I think I don’t like anything… Gamey.” He began his trek around the island, joining Boryan at his station and took an appraising sweep of the washed rice. “I do like soup. Nothing too thick, though puree is preferred by me. But I'll eat anything that doesn't feel like military rations.” He smiled, standing beside Broyan now.


He realized the dustpan was still out, left there to sit while they made idle conversation. He glanced at it for a moment, as if it were of higher importance than any dustpan in the world. “I’ll just…” he said softly, concentrating with so much might, his grip on the counter caused his knuckles to drain of all color. His face still remained collected and his eyes were veiled slightly by his lashes. He was focused but on what, it wasn’t clear.


Behind Boryan, the dustpan skidded softly across the floor of the kitchen, slowly as if someone taped a string to it and just kept lightly tugging on it. The plastic tool scraped the edge of the cabinet it had come from, dangling in air for just a moment. When it was inside the cabinet once more, Reese smiled and inhaled deeply. A satisfaction emitted from his aura, just as the smallest black thread remained on the floor of the kitchen where the Dustpan had been. It recoiled into itself, the direction of each grain of black sand writhing, churning in mercurial ways. Then, as soon as it was there, it began flaking away little by little, like snowfall in reverse.


Reese sniffed, quickly pinching his nose and leaning his head back. It was worth the discomfort to see that while his inhibitors were still functioning, they weren’t stopping all activation, He could still use his power, even if only now it was for moving plastic cleaning tools. He snorted back the warmth filling his nose, then went to exit the kitchen. “Excuse me, I need to find tissues… And wash up.” he smiled back at Boryan, like it was their little secret, even though it clearly wasn’t. If the whole Seeker’s facility saw it, he didn’t mind. But he got a little fun out of sharing that moment of discovery with Boryan.


“I await your soup with anticipation.” Reese held the doorway on his way out, giving Boryan one last once over. It was a bit different from his earlier expressions. It wasn’t like he was looking at a cat, eyelids hanging lower than before. His smile had a cheeky fondness of a schoolboy who’d gotten away with something as stupid as passing a goofy drawing during class. Boryan was the unfortunate kid sitting next to him, receiving the paper. A small crimson drop was left behind as Reese made his way into the hall, grasping his nose tightly. A small victory, or an incredibly stupid waste of resources? He’d find out later, he supposed.

Though as he made haste for a bathroom of any kind, he heard a subtle sound that everyone in the house also heard, likely. Because it was the same sound they’d all heard.


Back when they all first awoke.

 

[Abyss]

#

00
00

Dolly

"Hello, my darlings."

location

DOLLHOUSE: EVERYWHERE

DATE

DAY0

NPCS

DOLLY

tags

everyone

" Pardon the intrusion, if everyone would please pause their current activities and pay attention:

It is almost time for dinner. All residents are to be in the Dining Hall in 15 minutes. More instructions will be provided after your meal.

A counter is available to in each of the rooms to help you keep track of the time—and remember darlings, it's rude to be tardy! "

© weldherwings.

 

[Silvercurrent]

~Interactions and Mentions~

SavannahSmiles
Abyss​

Cetus kept his vigil outside the clear doors leading into the pool room, though the doors seemed to muffle the ghostly echoes of the girl’s voices from within, so he felt like he could drop his arms. Squinted eyes relaxed and he slumped against the wall, trying to figure out what exactly his next move would be.


Bro, I hate this. I blew pretty much any chance of getting along with these jerks. He thought, heel bouncing below him as he stewed in his encroaching embarrassment. Still, it wasn’t like he was sorry for the way he acted. Sure, it was a bit cringe, but he could get over that eventually. He hadn’t been in a social situation in a long time where several people were involved and… Weren’t acting like a crew on a TV show set. He was just a guy here, among other people who apparently came from different divisions. Cetus wasn’t sure how many there were, he just wasn’t expecting someone from his own to be here.


As he was about to leave the hallways and seek out his bedroom, a voice froze him in his tracks. Artificial, yet human enough to keep the edge off. The announcement came from seemingly every direction, like surround sound, almost like it was in his head. Cetus widened his eyes and balled his fists as the voice spoke.

" Pardon the intrusion, if everyone would please pause their current activities and pay attention:
That would be easy to do. Dolly's uncanny tone captured them at every angle.

It is almost time for dinner. All residents are to be in the Dining Hall in 15 minutes. More instructions will be provided after your meal.

This really was like some horror film. Her words were inviting, but he didn't feel welcome.
A counter is available to in each of the rooms to help you keep track of the time—and remember darlings, it's rude to be tardy! "​

How freakin’ unsettling. Cetus shuttered a little, eyes darting to each end of the hallway that felt a little too long. It didn’t take much time before he heard soft chitter- followed by others getting ready to head to the dining hall. He rubbed his rock solid abdomen from the meal earlier, shifting in discomfort. “I already ate, uhg.” He whispered, unsure of exactly what to do.


He took a second to peek into the pool room as Verity and Freyja- they seemed to be awkwardly navigating their abrupt end to what seemed like a decent conversation. He’d noticed Marina go inside, but didn’t want to stare at her too long. He wouldn’t risk seeing a girl in a bathing suit… He wasn’t a creep.


However, she’d been in the water for a while. The announcement happened almost directly after she disappeared into the depths, not to be seen again yet. He ran his fingers through his hair in slight discomfort, ruffling it before he turned to push open the doors. If Freyja and Verity remained, he wasn’t paying them any mind- it was a bit incredible the kind of magnetic curiosity he had on his linear path to the edge of the pool. When he saw the dancing stream of rosy locks swaying near the bottom, rippling pink motions obscured by the bubbles in the chlorinated water, he searched the spread of colors over for movement and glanced back to the doors.


Of course, she didn’t hear Dolly. She’s at the bottom of the pool… And not moving. If that Welsh guy was right, and the first Dolly announcement was serious, she could potentially lose privileges if she stayed in there while the rest of them attended ‘dinner.’.


“I’d normally applaud your rebellion–” he grumbled, squinting at the gentle waves licking the sides of the pool tiles. “But I don’t want to get a part of the house closed off cause of you.” He slipped off his outer jacket and tossed it onto one of the chairs nearby, then used one foot to peel off his shoe, then the other. He took a confident step into the pool, right into the deep end, not realizing just HOW deep it was. A sudden jolt of fear spiked in him; like he’d made a grave mistake.

“Wait,” His eyes went wide as headlights on a car, the dread setting in as his wavy crimson locks were engulfed by the hazy blue.

“Fuckshitfuckshitfuck,”​

Cetus’ muscles caused him to instantly start sinking, along with his legs becoming noodles and floundering about- it’s like his body didn’t know which direction to go in, only down and down further… He realized something he didn’t remember about himself.

I can’t fucking swim!​

Panic caused Cetus to flail around, clawing for the edge of the pool that was starting to slip away from him, just a massive wall of pallor tiles rising before him like a growing wall. He was helpless to see the surface fade away from him.


What had started out as an attempt to fetch Marina from the bottom of the pool had ended in what could be his last moments alive… He felt his inhibitors begin to burn his skin, which did little to stay his oncoming panic.

HELP.


I’M NOT LIKE JACK. I WILL DIE.


STOP IT.

I HAVE TO GET TO THE TOP AGAIN- I WANT TO PLAY THE…

​

A cluster of azure bubbles erupted from the mess of swaying red locks, sending them upward like a flock of jellyfish. Cetus felt his heels touch the bottom of the pool, but he was frozen in fear now. All he could see was a floating cloud of pink
nearby, growing in size as it drew closer.

As the air left his lungs, an image flashed in his head- the garage door was closing as the silhouette of a drum set sat lifeless and untouched. Abandoned, and next to it, a plain soda can stripped of its original color. Just a few signatures were scribbled in sharpie along it's metallic shell. ​

 

[SavannahSmiles]

• Marina
• Dream

• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  mood

  
  
  
  

  Concerned

  
  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  Pool

  
  
  
  

  outfit

  
  
  
  

  Bathing Suit

  
  
  
  

  mentions

  
  
  
  

  Cetus

  
  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  
  

  Silvercurrent

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  Marina

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  A sudden splash from above her caused Marina to flinch in surprise, wide eyes darting towards the source of the disruption. The resulting cloud of bubbles only allowed her to see a brief flash of red as whoever it was flailed through the water. Pushing herself into a seated position, she watched, dumbfounded as the person sunk towards the bottom of the pool.
  
  Confusion quickly gave way to concern as she realized it was the tall, red-haired man currently drifting along the bottom of the pool. Why was he in the pool? If he was trying to swim, he wasn't doing a very good job at it. Wait. Did he even know how to swim?! He wasn't moving and he had seemed to flail quite a bit when he had first entered the water. Oh dear.
  
  With a flick of her tail, Marina was speeding towards him, pink hair billowing behind her. Under normal circumstances and with gravity working against her, she would never be able to budge him with her strength alone, but the water made him weightless and thus easier to move.
  
  Hands slipping underneath his armpits, Marina used all the strength in her tail to propel them towards the surface. As they erupted from the water, a few wheezing coughs escaped from her throat as her gills sealed shut and her lungs resumed pushing air through her body. Keeping a firm grip on Cetus, she directed them towards the edge of the pool so that the man could grab ahold.
  
  "Are you okay?" She asked him, face furrowed in an expression of concern as she used one hand to gently pat his back.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  nine lives

  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  mood

  
  
  
  

  Maybe food will calm Midnight down

  
  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  Dollhouse Banquet Hall

  
  
  
  

  outfit

  
  
  
  

  Wearing a white suit like everyone else (Midnight hates it)

  
  
  
  

  mentions

  
  
  
  

  Jack

  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  
  

  Headphones

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  dream

  
  
  
  

  the sandman

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Midnight settled somewhat as Dream helped Jack to his feet and the taller man released his hand, though he could still feel Midnight glaring at Jack's close proximity to them. A small expression of concern furrowed Dream's face at Jack's explanation for why he had been on the floor. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you need to sit down?" His hands raised to hover anxiously, as if Jack would collapse at any moment.
  
  Before Dream could fret further, Jack's attention was drawn to something happening across the room, Dream's gaze instinctively following. His eyes widened at the sight of a bush sprouting from the white-haired man's arm. 'Do you see that?! He grew a plant from his arm!' 'Fascinating...' Midnight drawled in a bored tone, fading to the background now that Jack was no longer in their space as much.
  
  Jack's voice drew Dream's attention back to him like a moth to a flame, those cyan eyes locking onto the darker haired male with his full attention. His lips parted in awe as Jack made a drink materialize in his hands and at first Dream thought that it was a type of illusions such as the kind he could make, but as Jack took a sip of the purple liquid, Dream realized that it was an actual beverage that was created.
  
  Jack returned his attention back to the cyan-haired male, Dream nodding along as it was explained what the drink was made of, though he didn't have clue what most of those ingredients were. Then Dream was asked about his own ability. "Sort of, my ability is multi-faceted." One slender hand rose upwards, palm facing the ceiling as Dream concentrated. A glowing blue butterfly appeared in his palm, wings flapping as it fluttered towards the ceiling before disappearing.
  
  "I'm able to cast illusions as well as put people to sleep." He clarified, arm dropping back down to his side, "There's also the side-effect of being pulled into people's dreams if I'm close enough to them while asleep." He hesitated, unsure how to explain Midnight's presence in a way that wouldn't make him sound crazy; they were bound to meet eventually if they were to be living here from now on, and he really should warn everyone else about his grumpier counter-part.
  
  But before he could formulate the words to describe Midnight, a voice chimed over-head stating that it was almost time for dinner. "I wonder what we're having for dinner." He mused aloud, eyes drifting back towards the table. Were they supposed to sit in the chairs they woke up in? He peeked up at Jack, wanting to ask the man if he wanted to sit together but unsure if that would be too forward of him considering they had just met.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  nine lives

  
  

 

[Silvercurrent]

~Interactions~
SavannahSmiles​

The pool room was filled with hacking and wheezing for a few seconds after Marina rescued Cetus from his heedless stunt. His eyes were clouded and vision blurry from the pool water soaking into his eyeballs, likely still wide as moons. His hair clung to his face, etched with a hollow and petrified expression before he hammered a fist on the pool room tiles.

“I’m not!” he replied, though he wasn’t directing his anger at Marina, and he quickly got the jolt of fear and anger out of his system before he steadied himself on his hands and knees. His black tank top clung to his back as it heaved, glancing back to her through dripping strands of crimson hair. He fluttered his eyelids to try and alleviate the pain from the chlorin, or what seemed like chlorine. Though he soon realized it wasn’t a chemical sensation like a real pool- it was likely tailored to Marina’s….


He panted deeply, turning over to sit in the puddle he’d created as he examined her up and down, nearly gawking at her tail. Like a child seeing a mermaid for the first time, it was a mixture of awe and concern. He’d seen what someone like Merrit and Boryan looked like, but A…. A literal fish tail. Her scales were rosy and caught the string of shifting reflections of the pool. He clung his fingers around a fistful of the cloth on his tank top and squeezed, both to mull over his feelings on seeing a giant mermaid tail and to wring out the excess water from the material.


Breathless still and thoroughly shaken, Cetus set his jaw and sent his hair into a brief shake, sending a few drops flying. “You’re literally a Merchick. I should have known. The siren song wasn't the only feature.” He rubbed his core muscles, feeling his nearly devoured meal trying to come back on him- he really shouldn’t have spite-eaten at Mach speed earlier.



“.... Thanks.”

He followed up with that at least, placing one foot over the other as the coldness of the room hit his wet skin. “I thought I could just step in. I didn’t know I couldn’t swim- that’s a STUPID thing to make me forget. Hera’s such a B-” He was about to speak his next words with the same stitch-popping fury, but when he glanced down at Marina and saw her gasping a bit, his words seemed to flow out of frame.


After a brief pause, he slicked back his wet hair to try and free up his eyes. He got a better look at her, then quickly shot his gaze back at the doors he came from. “Look, I just did what that British guy suggested. He said if we didn’t follow the rules, we’d get privileges taken away. There was an announcement from a robot lady while you were under water."


He had been asleep for Dolly’s first announcement, but somehow felt like he could say with confidence she wasn’t exactly human. The voice made his brain itchy when it spoke a few minutes ago. “People are already going to get ready. It told us to… get ready for dinner.” He curled his lip with mild suspicion, motioning towards the dining hall they’d all woke up in. As he stood, his bare feet squeaked on the soaked tiles, and his eyes went right back to her tail. He froze there, brows knitted as he ruminated.


“...You can’t walk like that, can you?” He asked, sending a noncommittal point at her scale-covered lower half. “............WAit, are you like…” Cetus felt his cheeks burn a little, just a little. “Never mind- come on, turn back already. We don’t have a lot of time and I have to get dry clothes–” He began walking away, but with each step, he realized she wasn’t following… She wasn’t just transforming, and the clock on the wall adjacent to them was counting down a lot faster than he wanted it to. Time flies when anxiety is gushing through your veins.

 

[Abyss]

*I wanted to write Botan out, rather than have him stuck in place, and I’ve decided to work the removal of characters into the story. Lamb, if you’d like me to make changes to his voice lines or adjustments, please let me know! I tried to keep it as minimal as possible.*

Quinn

The Talon

"I, erm..I wouldn't mind the help." ​

“Then I’m delighted to be able to assist you,” Quinn beamed. She felt relieved at the prospect of being able to help someone. It was a welcomed alternative to wandering around, aimlessly. However, to Quinn’s slight disappointment—and the instant guilt it prompted— it seemed that the key to completing their mission would not involve tracking, but rather a person.

"Um, actually ladies, I think I have what you're looking for," Botan approached them, holding an arm out to the group. Quinn watched as he used his power to grow a plant from his own wrist. How wondrous, she thought to herself as the plants formed on his arm, growing at impossible speed. While she would never desire to change herself in any way, the prospect of being able to create actual plants such as he had done did seem like a particularly attractive skillset. She would ever admit to such a desire in front of a member from Project Talon of course. There was, after all, no better division to be a part of than her own and she didn’t want them to think she was unhappy with herself in any way.

"I-..Yes, this'll do fine. Thank you.." A feeling of unease washed over Quinn as she watched the plant shrivel and die; drained of all life at Rorie's touch. However it passed in a second, as she reigned in her emotional response. Quinn was no stranger to death, even if this particular method was markedly different.

A moment later and perhaps realising that there was no longer a need to search for anything, Marina departed, "I appear to be drying out, so if you would all please excuse me." With a small wave she turned and headed out of the door. Rorie also left. Quinn waved to both of them in response, but wasn’t ready to leave quite yet. Botan had asked her a question earlier. She’d been too focused on the plant as it was drained to answer, but now Quinn felt a fresh wave of determination fill her as she was able to return to the issued challenge involving one of her favorite subjects.

"You mentioned you can determine kinds of plants and wildlife," Botan had asked her. "what do you think this is?"

Quinn looked at the remainder of the plant he'd created with his abilities with a speculative eye. It had the characteristics of a shrub of some kind. “May I?” Botan nodded, and she reached out to inspect the leaves. Simple with an alternate arrangement. Waxy in texture. Vaguely pinnate. Then she sniffed one of the small cream-colored flowers, inhaling the sweet floral scent and when it didn’t spark any recollection, committed the new smell to memory.

“I don’t recognize it,” Quinn admitted, feeling disappointed that she hadn’t been able to provide the correct answer to Botan’s inquiry. “However, it is a very lovely plant. What’s it called?”

“This one is a Banana Shrub. It's native to China.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous!” A great deal of Quinn’s enthusiasm returned. “I have lots of books on plants, but I’ve never seen most of them in person.” Which may have been a slightly misleading thing to say. Quinn had seen a great deal of plants, but she also had a great deal of books about plants and the idea of any one individual being able to see them all seemed to her, like an impossible dream. “Can you make any plant that you desire?” Another idea struck her that seemed even more exciting. “Could you make a new species if you wanted?”

“I think…” Botan's voice became strained and his face turned pale. “I need to go now.” Without elaborating he quickly turned around and walked out of the Dining Hall. His wings drooped noticeably lower than he’d carried them a few minutes ago. Quinn watched him go with a confused expression on her face.

“....Was I pressing?” Quinn finally asked, looking towards the remaining experiments. There were three of them that remained.

“Naw. Don’t worry about it.” It was the red experiment who replied. His nametag said he was called Fafnir, but he’d said earlier that he preferred to be called Merrit. Quinn was good with names and introductions. It was important to quickly memorize staff and teammates. Working in the military involved lots of titles and ranks, and lots of people liked to use nicknames instead so it could be confusing if you didn’t keep up. Even more so when you couldn’t always ask for clarification.

“Botan looked a little wilted. It was probably using his abilities that drained him.” Quinn didn’t think Merrit was lying, although the other experiment looked nervous too; his tail was twitching and his ears were tilted back slightly, which for Talons usually meant they were in pain or uncertain. Unless maybe they weren’t able to move, like human ears. She couldn’t quite tell. Well, perhaps there was another possibility.

“You don’t need to spare my feelings.” It happened occasionally that new staff felt the need to be overly gentle with her, so they would sometimes lie. “If I make a mistake, I’d like to know.”

Merrit winced. “I...didn’t mean it like that. That was—I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Quinn said with a more chipper tone in her voice. She was nervous too, but that was ok. If she could pass training and lead a successful career in the field, then she could manage to navigate this too.

Merrit stood there for a moment, looking a little sheepish. "I’m gonna go ahead and explore this place a bit. Care to join?” He ran a hand through his hair. Maybe they were both a bit socially awkward. It was nice to know that she wasn’t alone in feeling out of place.

“Yes.” It would be good to have something to do, now that the mission to find a plant for Rorie had been successfully completed. Perhaps she might be able to find other things of interest that could be useful later. At the very least, she could investigate her place of residence.

​

Exiting the Dining Hall, Quinn and Merrit entered a hallway corridor with two doors on each side. Each door was labelled and they peeked briefly inside each room as they passed, though they didn't enter. At the end of the hallway, they turned the corner and found that it continued further. In the second part, the left side was lined with many doors all set an even distance apart. Each door was labeled with a name. A residential wing then.

Quinn touched each of the nameplates as she passed them.

Gael, Seraphim, Dionysus, Sondor…There are a lot of experiments here. And seeing all of the rooms, it finally hit her that they would be here for a long time. A combination of fear and excitement stirred in her gut.

Other than the names, each door was identical and they didn't open as they walked by. Quinn’s thoughts began to drift, as she ran practice scenarios and pondered on what kind of challenges would be presented to them in the future. She was nearly lost completely, when she felt a faint buzz of energy stir at her fingertips. Her fingers touched the metal border of the nametag and a shock of static electricity zapped her finger. She stared at the door for a moment. Soldiers were a superstitious lot. She’d heard lots of talk about signs of good fortune and ill omens in equal measure. I wonder what they’d say about this, Soothsayer.

“Something wrong?”

“No. There's nothing to worry about." Quinn picked up her pace until they were walking at the same pace again. They'd reached the next turn and Quinn one of the many scent trails that intertwined in the hallway stopped suddenly. A distinctly floral scent. “Oh, it looks like Botan went to his room.”

Merrit stopped beside Quinn. He looked a little confused, so she tapped her nose. “The nose always knows.”

"Does it?" Although he questioned her tracking abilities, Quinn noticed that Merrit inhaled deeply through his nose, as if he was trying to catch the scent as well.

“Always.”

“Do you have a good sense of smell?” She asked, curious. It was hard to pin down what kind of experiment Merrit might be, but it looked as if he’d been heavily altered on physical level. Some of those features, such as the pointed teeth and small horns on his head were similar to the Talons. There was a very strong possibility that he might have been a creature type experiment such as herself, but it was often hard to tell the exact kind unless you were familiar with the markers—if they had any. Quinn had heard that there were some who blended in seamlessly.

“It’s supposed to be, but I don’t think I’m good at using it yet.”

Ah. So Merrit was still learning his abilities. That probably meant he had been made fairly recently. “It’s not overly difficult, but tracking takes practice. It can be overwhelming at first. It’s best to start with a specific target while you learn the basics. Metal is a good one and useful too. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Washers, coins, nails. But it’s best if you focus on one type of metal at a time. So don’t go mixing copper pennies with steel washers. That sometimes confuses the fresh batches when they’re starting.”

“Batches of what?”

“New Talons.”

“Talons?” Merrit sounded curious, then he grimaced. “I think I’ve heard of those. Maybe.” His voice trailed off a bit. It seemed like he was thinking. “They’re a type of flying weapon, right?"

“Multi-purpose, all terrain combat weapons with ranged elemental offensives.” Quinn paused briefly and then recited the project tagline. “Nobility of an eagle, the grace of a cat, and the loyalty of a canine. That’s what our design emulates.”

“Of course.” He still sounded distracted. It wasn’t unusual for those learning about the Talons to take breaks to process the information. From her understanding, the Seekers were unusually adept in the biological weapons department. Investors, even after being debriefed on their specs, were still surprised to meet a Talon in person. Quinn had participated in a great deal of the investor meetings and been witness to many different reactions. In this situation the feeling was somewhat mutual even. Quinn knew a great deal about Project Talon and the people who worked in that division, but these other projects were a mystery.

“What are you?” Now seemed like a good chance to get answers to some of her own curiosities. The question seemed to take Merrit somewhat by surprise, however. It was hard to tell with his eyes where he was looking, but she could see them squint slightly.

“Fafnir.” Merrit paused. “There’s only one of me.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“I suppose it was.”

Their conversation was interrupted then, as a door opened on their left. Both of them stopped. Quinn peeked at the nametag. “Look, you're Botan’s neighbor!”

Merrit let out a sigh. “Spectacular. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed.”

“I don’t see a reason why not.” Merrit seemed to have his doubts, but Botan didn’t strike her as particularly unlikable. “Are you going to go in?”

“I think I’ll check it out later.”

“If you’re sure.”

Merrit nodded and the two of them moved on. They hadn’t gone far down the hall when another one of the rooms opened up.

“Oh look, I think this one is mine.” Quinn tried not to act too eager. It wasn’t good to be too invested in your own belongings. Besides, nothing would be as good as her main unit, even if having a new room was exciting. Talons didn’t go on missions in their humanoid form, so they were never assigned to barracks or given regular lodgings. If they were to spend time on a base or anywhere overnight, then they were typically given a designated area in a hangar or clearing where they wouldn’t be in the way.

“Um.”

“If you want to stop for a bit and check your room out, I’m cool with that. I can wait here or we can meet up in one of the other areas.”

“Thank you! I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes.” She tapped her nose as a reminder that she’d be alright finding him if needed, then backed away from the doors, which closed behind her as she stepped further into the room.

This unit was smaller than the one she normally lived in, but it appeared to have been created to resemble her original room as much as possible. The design was very practical. The bed was set into the wall, with an artificial window and a small shelf on one end for storage. A desk was also built into one of the walls, with a chair available for her to sit in. Unlike the chairs at the dining hall, this one hadn’t been bolted to the floor. Perhaps they had opted to prioritize extreme caution in the shared areas, or the chairs had been bolted with the expectation that some subjects might react very intensely to waking up in a strange environment. No matter the reason for their choice, it was reassuring to know that she hadn’t given anyone cause for concern. It would have embarrassed her greatly to have been treated like a wild animal that could snap at any moment.

In addition to the familiar design, several objects seemed to have been brought directly from her unit! Her succulent garden had been transferred, along with some boxes in the corner which held some of her posters and art supplies. She was happy to see that they had been packed carefully to avoid damaging the fragile edges, and even more delighted to find that her journals and sketchbooks had been included in the transfer. Journaling was something that she’d been doing for the majority of her life, having started at the age of six at the behest of Dr. Emms, although her early journals were mostly just full of drawings. She would undoubtedly have lots of updates to add to her newest one, seeing how eventful the Dollhouse was proving itself already!

With a renewed sense of purpose, Quinn exited the unit. Actually setting up her belongings would have to wait until after curfew. As she was free to set her own schedule for the time being, she didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to continue exploring. The hallway was empty. Merrit’s scent lingered still, as did another one that she didn’t have a name for yet, but seemed vaguely familiar. She was going to follow Merrit’s trail when she felt the odd urge to stop and look around, feeling the inexplicable sense that she was missing something. There was no one else in the hallway and she couldn’t smell or hear anything unusual, nor had she thought of taking anything from her room. How odd? A moment later there was a strange sensation in the air, then a high-pitched whine that turned into the crackle of an electronic speaker activating.

“Pardon the intrusion, if everyone would please pause their current activities and pay attention:

It is almost time for dinner. All residents are to be in the Dining Hall in 15 minutes. More instructions will be provided after your meal.

A counter is available in each of the rooms to help you keep track of the time—and remember darlings, it's rude to be tardy! "

“Thank you,” Quinn responded, feeling a bit unsure where to direct her voice when speaking to Dolly. Quinn wasn’t accustomed to working with AI. She didn’t know too much about them either, but it seemed safe to say that you should at least give thanks when helped. And indeed, when the announcement ended, large glowing numbers appeared at the end of the hallway above the last door as all of the digital clocks in the Dollhouse were simultaneously activated. Quinn made a mental note to check them often.

Hallway Section 3

Eager

White Uniform

coded by natasha.

 

[Abyss]

Merrit Anderson

The Dragon

“I think I’ll check it out later.” Merrit was curious, but didn’t have any desire to go into his room. He supposed that those in charge of Project Fafnir had been decent to him for the most part, or at least he was willing to admit that things could always be worse. The Overseer from project Tiamat was a very stern woman and she didn’t sugarcoat the situation. Merrit didn’t have a choice, but she had made it clear that if he made an effort to cooperate with their program that he’d be rewarded.

Merrit was loath to accept anything from the Seekers and there was nothing more that he wanted most days than to halt progress of the Fafnir program as much as possible. That was a reasonable goal given his circumstances, but unfortunately it wouldn’t actually help him reach his true target: Escape. However, breaking out was easier said than done. Merrit had already tried and failed. Painfully. In addition he knew that the Seekers were more suspicious of him now than when he had arrived, and they were right to be. Regardless of how much he allowed himself to play into the role of cooperative subject, he hadn’t actually lost his desire for freedom. Somehow he’d find the opportunity to make it happen. If he was lucky, he might even find some like-minded individuals in this group. At the very least, it would keep his spirits up to continue searching for a way out.

“If you want to stop for a bit and check your room out, I’m cool with that. I can wait here or we can meet up in one of the other areas.” Quinn was nice, but Merrit was getting the impression that she might be content in her role of being an experiment. It was hard to say absolutely, but she had sounded rather proud of the Talons when speaking about them. A very small part of him envied that she seemed so happy with her role, but the idea of ever feeling that way about his situation as Fafnir made him uneasy. There was a wrongness to that. Every fiber in his being rejected the idea.

“Thank you! I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes.” Quinn tapped her nose again, and then disappeared behind the automatic doors. Merrit felt a pang of guilt for thinking badly of her. It was hard to resent someone who seemed so genuinely enthused. Still, he couldn’t afford to get swept up into feeling the same way. Merrit sighed, then continued walking down the hallway. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind. He tried sniffing the air a couple of times to see if he could tell who had already passed this way. It was hard for him to connect the various scents to anyone specific. He felt silly trying to do so, but the idea of being able to track people like Quinn seemed like a good skill to have.

As Merrit was walking towards the end of the hallway, another set of doors opened on his left. Something dark whizzed by his head and Merrit ducked backwards just in time to avoid being hit by it. He turned to try and see what it was when someone short and blond stepped out of one of the rooms. Merrit caught himself quick enough to just avoid colliding into him, as the other man sidestepped nimbly out of his path.

“You feelin’ alright, Red?” Sonny asked. There were a few of those small orb-shaped creatures with him and bobbed up and down in a loose circle, coming in close to eye Merrit. Sonny's voice had a probing quality, as if he was genuinely expecting an answer. Merrit looked away briefly from the orbs to look at him and saw that Sonny was examining Merrit from head to toe in much the same manner.

“About as well as can be expected, I guess.”

“Botan came running by not to long ago, lookin’ worse for wear. Somethin’ happen in the Dining Hall?”

“Eh, not really. He used his abilities though. Might have drained him.” Merrit didn’t particularly like answering to the trainer. He had the urge to flip him off or just shrug and move on. Still, that probably wasn’t a smart idea, given that he was supposed to avoid doing anything to make the Seekers any more suspicious of him. Maybe even convince them he could be trusted. Eck. Just the thought of trying to ingratiate himself to the seekers sent a curl of disgust down his spine.

“Hmm. Might’ve.” Sonny seemed satisfied enough with that answer. He pushed himself off the wall and headed for the first door on their right. “See ya around.”

Not if I can help it. Fuck. That was exactly the voice in his head Merrit wasn’t supposed to be listening to. “Yeah…sure.” Dammit, that sounded weak even to him. Whatever, he was trying. It was the first day, so he could be forgiven for being a little aloof.

Without further ado, Sonny disappeared into the Living Room and Merrit found himself suddenly changing directions towards the door at the end of the hallway, only to pause mid-step when he caught sight of a familiar bean-pole standing at the door. Merrit might be avoiding Sonny under the suspicion of loyalty to the Seekers, but Cetus was just…crazy. There was no way that he was going to risk setting him off in a repeat of what happened in the Dining Hall. Mentally cursing his luck, Merrit pivoted back towards the other door and slipped into the Living Room.

Living Room

Tired. Anxious.

White Uniform

coded by natasha.

 

[Headphones]

Start the song when I say so bellow.

▶

Fever

Dreams

01

In the kitchen.

Making dinner.

Speaking to

REESE and OTHERS

"I'm thinking of making soup tonight, though it'll be thick instead of watery."
"Soup?"
"That Cetus brat already requested no pepper, so everyone will have to add it themselves. Is there anything you don't like to eat? I've been trained to cook for most tastes, so don't hold back."
"It's a shame he doesn't like pepper. It's nearly in everything." Reese chuckled, gave a hopeless shrug and continued "As for me, they've never given me anything offensive here. The food's always been quite clinical. I think I don't like anything . . . gamey?"
'Gamey. Safe to say that's a 'no' to a lot of meat types. Fish should be fine, but probably nothing like carp or sardines. Chicken should also be ok, right?' Boryan went through the list of ingredients with the speed of light whilst the other man made his way over to lean on the counter beside him.

Once Reese had come close enough, the feline gave him a small nod as to signify that he had no qualms with having him approach further. With the distance between them reduced to the acceptable minimum for two people that had just met, those golden eyes could trace the finer details upon the surface of the 'now-named mimosa'. That pale visage, contrasted starkly by his messy black hair, had an even more ghostly highlight to it. Combined with the ease with which he tired and the comment about receiving 'clinical' meals, it became apparent that his current state was at least partly the result of a Disivion's negligence.
'I'll have to take care to restore his colour.' Boryan thought. 'No wonder they gave me this job.'
"I do like soup." Reese said. "Nothing too thick, though puree is preferred by me."
'Puree IS thick, you little-.' the cat's tail made one twitch at its tip.
"But I'll eat anything that doesn't feel like military rations." the man smiled.
". . . Noted." he gave him a nod and looked at the clock on the wall. 'That smile saved you. He's both not picky and picky the moment something comes up. How troublesome. The way he scratched his earpiece made him look innocent, though. At least he's comfortable around me now.'
"I'll just . . ." Reese spoke softly, making Boryan redirect his attention back to him.

The person in question remained unchanged at first glance. A deep concentration had stilled his icy gaze and sent its inner soul to a place unseen to those on the surface. Following down from those slender shoulders, the tenseness of which only the keenness of a cat could pick up under layers of clothing, his bony hands could be seen clasping onto the counter's edge, draining of what little colour they had possessed. The cause of his strain inconspicuous, Boryan was about to voice a word of inquiry when a faint sound came from the passage between the counters by the long wall and those at the centre. Making fast judgement of its quality, he thought it akin to a hard plastic object being slowly dragged on the floor. Given the absence of malice in their surroundings, Boryan chose to maintain his position, not blinking once as he only changed focus from Reese in the foreground to the background and back on occasion. Though the item did not appear in his line of sight, when its brief journey ended with a distinct 'clank' inside the only opened cabinet, he realised it must have been the dustpan.

'Using your ability in front of me, but still keeping it hidden. You have quite the clever imagination.' Boryan thought as he watched the corners of his companion's lips lift and then open to take a relieved breath. 'Whatever it was, if it made you feel better, that's all that matters. Hm? Are you going to sneeze now with how you're pinching your nose?'
Indeed, no sooner had he taken a fresh inhale had Reese sniffed, swiftly pinched his nose and leaned his head back.
'Great. The paper napkins are one of the few things I haven't seen in the kitchen. Going to the storage might take too long. He'll just have to make do and-'
As if using his power had pressed a reset button, deja vu struck the bipedal feline as Reese once again almost jogged to the exit.
"Hey." was the only word Boryan managed to insert in a low tone.
"Excuse me, I need to find tissues. . . And wash up." the man smiled back at Boryan in an almost childlike nonchalant manner.
'You-' he thought as he pushed himself up from leaning against the counter.
"I await your soup with anticipation." Reese smiled at the doorway before taking his leave.

How peculiar it was. A person who a moment ago looked as if his very lifespan had been depleted, pale and worn like an old shirt destined to become a rag, had suddenly shone with a vivacious light, his smiles growing each time even as his stay came to an end. For several seconds after the departure of he who came and went like the wind Boryan's gaze remained on the door. Cat ears pointed upwards, he listened closely, yet it didn't sound like that man or any other intended to enter the kitchen. Silence. He then turned his head to look at the kitchen isle, where some items were drying on the rack whilst others were still inside the sink. The 'kitchen lord' had realised it sooner, but hadn't dared or, rather, wasn't given the chance to say or do anything. However, now that he was alone, he allowed his tail to make a full swing in annoyance.
"The sink was right there." he sighed aloud.

At that moment, a 'ding' sound came from the oven, signifying that 10 minutes had passed. Walking over to inspect his latest creation, Boryan continued the monologue in his mind, lest someone unexpected pass by and hear him or the Seekers make an unfavourable remark.

'If your nose was running, the solution was right there.' He saw that the garlic bread had been nicely baked and proceeded to open the oven door. 'Why risk getting the floor dirty? Heh, not as if you'll get the job of cleaning it.' He took the tray out with his power and placed it on top, then took a board out of one of the cabinets and slid the two slices onto it so they could cool. 'And saying you have to grab tissues.' With a knife that had been used before, he chopped the bread into slices in a matter of seconds. 'This is the kitchen. Where else are you going to find any? The bathroom?' He shoved the tray back into the oven and headed to the storage room. 'Best not give him any scouting work. No, best not give him any work. He looked like he'd faint after just cleaning up one broken plate.'

Entering the storage room, the dark walls and dimmed lighting offered a pleasant dive into their calming realm, helping to rid him of the annoyance that had strangely overcome him. Heading straight forward to the vegetable stands, Boryan continued.
'Thus far, I've only seen Sondor, Reese, Cetus and Marina use their powers. That's 1, 2, 3, 4 people. There are 12 more that remain unknown. Too many.' He thought as he found a large textile bag and started placing potatoes, carrots and onions inside. 'What type of experiment would require this many in one spot from the beginning? Are they going to test a drug? Or perhaps it's a show, as Deon said. It wouldn't be a first, since I had cameras in my rooms. Though the CaTS told me when the live transmission would start, sometimes. Speaking of, the kitchen was arranged in a familiar way, so they probably had a hand in how it was made. However, with the absence of their. . . special style, they didn't have the freedom to do everything and anything. So, there's probably one group on top and the others had some input. The higher-ups, huh?' With the bag quite full and heavy, he took it up his shoulder and walked back to his station. 'Seems like we're in for a challenge.'

Just as he had promised his new acquaintance, Boryan began preparations for cooking a soup for 17 people. As one may expect, such a great number of people required an equally great quantity to keep them satiated, a quantity that would usually require a rather large pot and a long time to complete. For this reason, the chef did not intend to make any excess but just about enough to satisfy the more petite guests, whilst for the others he had decided to make some simple fried chicken once the soup was set on the stove. Yet before the true cooking process could start, there was the much longer step of having the ingredients ready for use.

First, Boryan took out the colander with the rice and placed it on a clean plate, whilst the large bowl that they had been in he emptied and refilled with clean water. Next, he placed the bag on the counter beside the sink and used his power to steadily take out the potatoes one by one, dip them into the water, shake them well and then take them out to the counter on the other side of the kitchen isle to dry and stay until time came for them to be cut. If someone were to observe from the side, it would look as if he was a conducting an orchestra of splashes, bursts and thumps. As if given a summons, it was when an even pace was established that a woman's voice sounded through the speakers hidden on the ceiling.

"Pardon the intrusion, if everyone please pause their current activities and pay attention."
In answer to the order, Boryan halted the potatoe conveyor in mid-air.
"It is almost time for dinner. All residents are to be in the Dining Hall in 15 minutes. More instructions will be provided after your meal."
'15 minutes?!' his eyes widened.
"A counter is available in each of the rooms to help you keep track of the time - and remember darlings, it's rude to be tardy!"

(Start the music now.)

'Fuck, lets do this.' Boryan thought but made sure to subdue the hiss that had scratched his throat in an attempt to escape. The moment the seeker ended her announcement, the feline went from zero to 9000. Not one, but dozens of potatoes flew out of the bag and into the sink. The water handle opened at the maximum under his command and droplets flew in all directions as he washed as many potatoes as possible before zipping them into a spin in the air so they could dry as best as possible.

"It better be here." he grumbled whilst running to the other side of the kitchen isle. Thankfully, thanks to the familiarity of the room's design, in one of the bottom drawers he found exactly what he was looking for. Several potato peelers.

If there was one part of cooking which Boryan didn't like, it was peeling potatoes. It made him groan ever since he was young whilst working at his father's restaurant, but that hadn't been enough to make him completely detest it. Years ago, when he had gotten accustomed to the modifications of his body, the scientists from the CaTS Division conducted thorough experiments on the extent of his telekinetic capabilities. During the early stages of said research, one of the points that needed to be written up was the number of items he could accurately manipulate simultaneously and whether or not it could increase with experience. In order to gain this information, the first method they chose was the harmless activity of peeling potatoes. Said vegetables would, naturally, not go to waste, for they would later be made into various flavours of chips to be enjoyed by everyone in the Division. They would say that there was a unique thrill to 'taking a potato chip and eating it' accompanied by dramatic classical music, however, Boryan failed to see the appeal.

Now, he was reliving those early days as his mind sweated under the pressure of speedily taking out a pan to heat some oil and then peeling many potatoes in the air above the sink at the same time, before setting them down on a wooden board and cutting them down. He had been put under timed tests such as these before, but it had certainly never come down like thunder before. In the 10 minutes that he had, blessed be the ring for still being warm from before, the feline butler managed to create a sizeable batch of fried potatoes and a simple yet large salad from tomatoes, pesto and onion, the vegetables among which he chopped while waiting for the potatoes. With less than 5 minutes left, Boryan made the board with the garlic bread, the big salad bowl and the glass casserole with fried potatoes float behind him, and opened the utensil drawer, where he tapped 17 forks and a large spoon. Briskly making his way to the glass cabinet whilst minding everything that he was carrying, he opened its door and slid his paw on the sides of two stacks of plates which then immediately became airborne. Feeling the folds of his cerebrum becoming deeper after that mental exercise, the chef took the exit towards the long hallway with his little parade behind him.

Inside the Dinning Hall four test subjects were present. Regrettably, Boryan didn't know their names, nor did he remember them speaking, apart from the winged boy, who had been among the first to awaken and ask about what was happening. They were chatting in pairs and, given the lack of visible damage since last he had been in the room, they seemed to be getting along. He gave the setting one overall scan, then began walking by the table.

"I'm unaware of whether or not we were meant to be served anything, but -" Boryan spoke to the auditory without care for who was listening. While doing so, one plate left each of the two stacks and landed gently on the table in front of a seat, a fork following suit on top of it. "- given my designated role and experience, I think this much is expected of me. I was caught off guard by the timeframe, so there isn't much. The mistake won't be repeated." The salad bowl with the spoon, sliced garlic bread and casserole were placed in the middle of the table. With everything nicely in place, the 180-tall black cat in a white tracksuit stood at the end of the table opposite the door with arms folded.

'Dang, I forgot the napkins.' the tip of his black tail twitched at the thought as it hung low behind him. 'The rest of the group should come back any moment now. Unless it's my job to call them, too.' his tail twitched again ever so slightly at its end. 'I've had two or three at a time, but never this many to look after. Hmm, if we're seated as before, I should ask Quinn how the scouting went.'

Code by Nano

 

[Eliruz]

scroll

The Syphon

Rorie.

mood

Curious/Nervous

Outfit

White Jumpsuit

location

Banquet Hall

interactions

tags

tags here

As Rorie settles on the bed, she takes a deep breath, allowing herself to fully immerse in the comfort of her surroundings. The soft fabric beneath her fingertips brings a gentle smile to her face. It's a reminder that even in this new and unfamiliar place, there are elements of familiarity and warmth.

As she continues to sit on the bed, Rorie reflects on the journey that led her to this moment. The testing, the experimentation. All of the pain. Now, surrounded by nature's beauty and the promise of new experiences, she begins to feel a glimmer of excitement.

Rorie opens her eyes and takes in the sight of the plants once again. Each one holds its own unique charm, and she finds herself drawn to their colors, textures, and scents. They become symbols of resilience, as they thrive and grow even in the confines of the room.

Her tranquility is momentarily interrupted by the voice of Dolly, the speaker system announcing the upcoming dinner. She listens attentively to the instructions, realizing that it's nearly time to join the other residents in the Dining Hall.

Quickly, Rorie glances at the counter in her room, taking note of the time. She has fifteen minutes to prepare herself and make her way to the Dining Hall. With a renewed sense of purpose, she removes her gloves, placing them neatly on a nearby surface, and takes a moment to freshen up.

Rorie straightens her clothes, ensuring that she looks presentable for dinner. As she looks into the mirror, she furrows her brow and preens her appearance. First, she lifts an ungloved hand to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. Then straightens out her bangs. There wasn't much else she could do. Maybe some color to her face? Lifting her hands tentatively, she pinches her cheeks to bring some color back to her skin. It hurt a bit but she looked lifeless without a bit of flush in her cheeks.

"Good enough," she mumbles to herself softly. Grabbing her gloves carefully, she slips them over her dainty fingers and up her thin arms. The darkness of the latex material clashes against her pale skin. With a deep breath, Rorie makes her way out of her room and heads down the hall she came.

She notes the name plates again and turns into the Dining Hall.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[SavannahSmiles]

• Freyja
• Marina

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  Tranquil

  
  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  Pool

  
  
  
  

  outfit

  
  
  
  

  White Suit

  
  
  
  

  mentions

  
  
  
  

  Verity

  
  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  
  

  Abyss

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  freyja

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Freyja stared at the water in contemplation, her feet gently swishing through the cool liquid as Verity spoke. "There are times I wonder if recovering my memories would be a good thing," She said softly, "Sometimes, I'll wake up at night from a nightmare that I can't remember, a nightmare that isn't like my normal ones and I wonder if it has any link to the memories I don't have anymore."
  
  Her gaze turned to Verity and she smiled, white hair spilling over her shoulder as her head tipped slightly. "It's not all bad though, think of all the exciting things I'll see if we ever get to leave." At Verity's question, a secret smile stole over Freyja's lips. "They tried to keep me in the dark, but I have my ways of learning things." Having a ghostly friend that could simply go through the wall made for excellent recon.
  
  Freyja followed Verity's gaze as the sound of feet walking across tile caught her attention. It was the pink-haired girl Freyja had seen slumbering against the table. The pale-haired girl watched as she crossed the room and dove into the water. She straightened, peering into the water with curiosity as Marin's legs transformed into a glittering pink tail. Before she could marvel at the sight for long, Verity's question snaps her attention back to the other woman.
  
  She pondered the inquiry for several long moments, fingers twirling with the ends of her hair in thought. "Are you sure you want to know about my experiment?" She asked the other quietly, "My ability unnerves people, scares them even at times."
  
  Before Verity even had a chance to answer her, an announcement from above interrupted their conversation. However, before Freyja could suggest they head to dinner, a tall red-haired man appeared in the room and, after removing his shoes, stepped into the pool. Freyja blinked, leaning forward to gaze down into the water. "Does he know how to swim?" She asked the room at large, one eyebrow raised as she shot Verity a glance. "He doesn't," Ciel proclaimed after sticking his head down to get a glimpse at what was happening, "He's sinking like a rock."
  
  Oh dear, that wasn't good.
  
  If Freyja knew for certain whether or not she could swim, she would have jumped in after him but as it stood, she reckoned it would be wise to avoid needing to be saved as well. "Do you know how to swim, by any chance?" She asked Verity, an anxious tone creeping into her voice as her gaze remained on where the red-head had disappeared.
  
  She jerked, just barely, as both Marina and Cetus burst from the water. As soon as she heard Marina's predicament, she was already swinging her legs out of the water. "Ciel." She murmured quietly, pointing at the towel as she stood up. Her ghostly companion nodded and zipped over to snatch it up.
  
  To everyone else in the room, it would have appeared as if the towel had floated from where it had been laying and dropped into Freyja's hands as she reached Marina's side and offered the girl the towel. "We should find more towels, I'm sure there are some in this room somewhere." She said as she rose to her feet.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  nine lives

  
  
  
  
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  mood

  
  
  
  

  Worried

  
  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  Pool

  
  
  
  

  outfit

  
  
  
  

  Bathing Suit

  
  
  
  

  mentions

  
  
  
  

  Cetus

  
  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  
  

  Silvercurrent

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  Marina

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  Marina's hands hovered behind him as Cetus pulled himself from the water, gaze glued anxiously to his back. She had been trained in CPR, but was really hoping the tall man was fine and wouldn't need it; he was talking and didn't seem to be struggling to breath so hopefully it would be unnecessary. Regardless she remained by his side as he recovered from his unexpected dip into the pool.
  
  As he turned to sit at the edge, Marina backed away slightly to give him some space. Her tail swished through the water as she folded her arms on the tile and rested her cheek on them, peeking up at Cetus as he spoke. "You're welcome." She said, flashing him a sweet smile. Just as she was nearly about to ask him why he had gone into the pool when he clearly couldn't swim Cetus continued, answering the very question on her mind.
  
  "That does seem counter-productive to your survival. I hope they haven't made you forget anything else that could affect your health, like allergies." A frown furrowed her brows at the thought and she vowed to keep a close eye on him during meal-times, just in case.
  
  His words about her missing an announcement had her straightening up in alarm before pulling herself out of the water and swiveling until her tail was spread out along the tile, the movement seeming second-nature to her. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she glanced up at the clock then back at Cetus, who seemed to be waiting for her to transform back into her human form.
  
  She shook her head helplessly at him. "I can't control the transformation; once I shift, I don't regain my human legs until my tail dries out completely. Go on without me, I would rather I be the only one that gets in trouble." She wasn't exactly sure what punishment awaited her for missing dinner, but she certainly didn't want to drag Cetus down with her.
  
  She cast a glance at where her towel had been left on the other side of the pool but it would take too long to drag herself over to it. Frowning, she tried brushing water droplets off of her tail even though she knew how useless a gesture that was. She heard one of the others in the room speak in a low voice, jolting slightly when, a few moments later, the girl with white hair was kneeling at her side, extending Marina's towel to her.
  
  Shooting her a grateful smile, she accepted the towel and began rubbing it over her scales.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  nine lives

  
  
  
  

 

[Abyss]

Verity

Meer

]

VERITY
​

“Got your tricks, have you?” Verity tried to go for a playful expression, but it had been a long time since she’d last smiled and the attempt felt stiff. “That’s good.” One needed to be clever to survive. More than strength, you needed to be adaptable—after all, there's more foxes in the forest than wolves. And a chance to make memories, hmm…That’s a good way of looking at things. “It’s easy to lose hope here. I like the way you think.”

Verity paused and thought to herself for a moment. “There must be some things that are worth re-experiencing for the first time. But, I still think it's important to know. Maybe they can’t be recovered completely, but maybe you can learn something about yourself trying to find out. To be stuck with this. Wondering. It’s horrible. I’ll help you if I can.” Verity meant that, and it went beyond her desire to mess with the Seekers as much as possible. There were missing gaps in her memories, but it felt right to her that she should help others as much as possible. And if doing so did mess with Seeker plans? That would be an added bonus.

They were both silent for some time. Verity swished her feet gently in the water, then reached to run her fingers through the surface of the pool. The water split easy, running between her fingers without resistance. Blood was thicker and more stubborn. It clung to your skin in a way that was at odds with how willingly it poured out when given the opportunity. Verity pulled her hand away from the surface and watched the water drip back down. Drip, drip, drip.

"Are you sure you want to know about my experiment?" Freyja asked quietly, breaking their mutual silence. "My ability unnerves people, scares them even at times."

Curiosity bubbled in Verity’s chest. She was no stranger to fear. In her short second life, fear had become her constant companion, though she was growing to know it from a different perspective as of late. Now what kind of experiment in the Seekers little box of horrors was enough to disturb their makers? She desperately wanted to know the answer. She’d been able to terrify some of them. The scientists had become more cautious. The guards and soldiers stepped carefully when they thought she was loose. But they didn’t count. The Overseers that had taken her on as their experiment had been disgusted, or disappointed in her progress, but never scared of what she could do to them.

“I—

The invisible speakers crackled from somewhere within the room, as their host made her presence known once more, providing a new set of instructions. Startled, Verity jumped and then forced herself to settle. She wrapped her arms around herself in what had become a force of habit. As the disembodied voice continued speaking, she felt her fingers dig into her arms through the fabric of her sweater.

​

Dolly was polite, but there had been an unmistakable threat not to be late. The purpose of the experiment was still vague and frustrating, which made the idea of being punished somehow worse. Maybe if they were lucky, they’d receive an actual explanation with dinner. That seemed unlikely.

Verity was more curious about what Freyja had been talking about in any case. She was going to try asking again, when there was a sudden rush of footsteps across the tiled floor of the pool room. There was a streak of white as a tall man with a red buzzcut—Cetus? Where had he been lurking?—jumped into the other end of the pool. Verity wasn't concerned at first. The pool was a novelty treat and he’d jumped in without hesitation, so her first impression was that he must really love swimming. Only when he didn’t rise to the surface immediately, but started to sink to the bottom with his limbs kicking, then becoming still did she realize something was terribly wrong.

"Do you know how to swim, by any chance?"

“Yes,” I don’t think it would kill me, Verity answered, willing to give it a try at least. She hadn’t felt afraid of the water and sticking her feet in the pool hadn’t unlocked any old memories that suggested she had a reason to avoid swimming. She slid off of the edge and into the water—However it turned out that they didn't need to worry for Cetus' safety. The figure at the bottom of the pool was faster and she came to his rescue immediately. Verity automatically shielded her face from the spray as the surface of the pool erupted and Marina pulled Cetus to safety. Her fingers had curled into claws reflexively.

Crisis averted. Verity pulled herself back out of the water, letting out a mildly exasperated sigh. Movement caught her eye and Verity was surprised to see that a towel laying on the floor floated into Freyja’s hand. Telekinesis? Yes, I imagine it would be hard to contain someone who can move the world around them with only their thoughts. And indeed, she could understand the idea of fighting against an invisible force would be terrifying. Although, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. It didn't make sense that Freyja would hesitate to explain her ability, only to show it off mere moments later. Verity filed away her suspicion for now, meanwhile the other woman was quick to lend a hand as Marina explained her predicament in getting to the dining hall in time.

"We should find more towels, I'm sure there are some in this room somewhere."

Verity looked at the two experiments, both trying their best to dry Marina's tail so that they could make it. Marina's powers got under her skin, but she had no ill will towards the Siren. Cetus was an odd fellow. Verity didn’t really understand him, but she didn’t think he was entirely bad either if he was willing to jump into a pool to prevent another experiment from possibly facing punishment for being late to a summons. Nothing about either of them was setting off her paranoia.

“We’ll find something," Verity said in agreement with Freyja. Hopefully they would actually be able to find something to help Marina, but if not they would figure things out in order to get her safely to the Dining Hall on time. There wasn't anything in the pool room other than the pool itself, but there was another door that might lead to something useful. Verity took the lead and opened the door cautiously, uncertain of where it led.

Gleaming stainless steel and marbled gray and white countertops were certainly not what she was expecting. In contrast to the emptiness of the main living area and the pool room, the kitchen was decked out from top to bottom in what she assumed was the most up to date technology. Verity held her arms wrapped around herself, careful not to touch anything. The shine of the stainless steel was unnerving, and she focused her gaze elsewhere to avoid the memories that threatened to resurface.

She saw signs that the kitchen had clearly been occupied recently. Whoever had been using the kitchen certainly seemed to know what they were doing, going by the smell of it. A rich, heady scent filled the air—leagues better than anything she had been given by the Seekers previously. There were a few rags around the kitchen, but they looked to have been victims of cleanup and Verity didn’t think they were that desperate for time, yet that she was willing to settle for bringing back a pile of dirty dish cloths.

“Inside here, maybe?” Verity whispered to herself, pausing in front of another door within the kitchen itself. It was labeled "Storage Room,” with a second row in smaller font beneath which read: "Restricted Access.” How strange. This one had a lock instead of whatever invisible sensors they used to automatically open and close the rest of the doors in the facility. Did that make it more or less secure, she wondered. Whatever the case, she didn't have anything on hand to try picking it. Verity put her ear against the door. Nothing.

Verity stepped back from the door, turning to look at Freyja. "Got any tricks for this?"

​

Pool Room/Kitchen | Agitated | interactions

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[SavannahSmiles]

mood

Concerned

location

Pool/Kitchen

outfit

White Suit

mentions

Verity & Cetus

tags

Abyss Silvercurrent

freyja

ft. marina

Seeing that the pool room was vacant of the material that they needed, Freyja padded after Verity as she headed out of the room in search of more towels. The clock against them, Freyja hurried to match her pace to Verity's longer stride as she lead the way into the kitchen. Surely there could be something in here they could use. Magenta eyes scanned the space, across the countertops and the table. A scent lingered in the air, peaking the interest of her stomach but she pushed it aside for now; food could wait until their current crisis had been averted. She was just about to start yanking open drawers when Verity's voice drew her attention to a door residing within the kitchen.

She headed over, Ciel zipping ahead of her and through the door to check out its contents. A ghostly hand poked through the metal, giving her a thumbs up before disappearing back inside. The pale girl stepped up beside Verity, head cocked slightly as she considered the door. "Is it locked?" she inquired, one slender hand reaching out to try the door handle. It pressed down with little trouble and Freyja pulled the door open.

Stepping inside, her eyes swept the space, catching on Ciel beckoning her from further towards the back. She headed towards him, her steps sure as he gestured as pristine white towels folded on the stainless steel shelf. She gathered as many as her arms could carry then turned back to Verity. "I can do the laundry later, as an apology for using so many at once. We should hurry back."

She said as she swept from the room, her feet barely making a sound as she padded back into the pool room and knelt by Marina's side. She grabbed a towel and began rubbing down the girls pink tail, a thought occurring to her as she recalled how Marina had come into the pool room. "When you regain your legs, are you automatically clothed when that happens?" She asked the girl quietly.

The mermaid shook her head with a strained smile. "No, I would need to go retrieve a change of clothes from my room." Freyja frowned, working the problem through in her mind with the time they had left. Tilting her head, she regarded Cetus and Verity. "Do either of you think you're strong enough to carry her in this form? It's probably not the most proper dinner attire, but I don't think there is enough time for her to regain her legs and go grab clothes from her room. We can wrap her tail in towels to shield her when she does change back."

nine lives

 

[Abyss]

Verity

Meer

]

VERITY


"Is it locked?"
​

Verity’s turned away to hide the embarrassed blush that colored her cheeks. Such a simple solution to the problem had slipped her mind. I guess that goes to show the dangers of making assumptions.

Free to enter the storage room, they found a shelf full of neatly sorted towels. Thankfully, Verity managed to avoid any further incidents as they loaded up with as many towels as they could carry. Between the two of them they were definitely going to have more than enough towels for Marina.

"I can do the laundry later, as an apology for using so many at once. We should hurry back."

“I’ll help with laundry,” Verity said, trying to sound reassuring. Doing laundry wasn’t something Verity wanted to do, but it made sense that she should help with any problems that she’d helped create. Not that she actually thought anyone would have a problem with using the towels to help Marina. If someone did find a reason to complain, Verity would take the blame if necessary. She wasn’t held in very high regard by the Seekers anyways, so the idea of getting into trouble didn’t bother her much in the end. As long as they’d achieved their goal, it didn’t matter.

She grabbed another towel just in case.

​

Verity and Freyja returned to the Pool Room, with their bounty of towels stacked in their arms. Verity’s nerves had settled a great deal since waking up, but as she entered a new room and approached the two experiments, she felt the nervous hum return. However the insistent buzz wasn’t nearly as intrusive as it had been in the dining hall where she’d been surrounded by so many people, so she forced herself to focus on something else and ignore the strange sensation.

Marina and Cetus were still at the pool's edge upon return. Marina hadn’t changed back yet, confirming the need to grab the extras.

“As promised.” Verity said and placed the majority of her towels on the nearest dry spot beside Marina. She set some aside for Cetus as well. Cetus was an odd fellow. Verity didn’t really understand him, but she didn’t think he was entirely bad either if he was willing to jump into a pool to prevent another experiment from possibly facing punishment for being late to a summons. “For you,” she told him as she set his pike aside. “Try to be more careful in the future.”

Then she turned back to look at Freyja and Marina. “I can carry you,” she said, in answer to Freyja’s question. Verity was certain that as long as she didn’t wiggle too much, there should be no issue for her to carry Marina to the Dining Hall. She looked at the clock, which had been ticking down steadily, then back at the mermaid resting on the floor. “Are you ready?”

​

Pool Room | Slightly Agitated | interactions SavannahSmiles Silvercurrent

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[Silvercurrent]

~Mentions and interactions~
SavannahSmiles
Abyss
Eliruz
Headphones​

“I’m perfectly– guh,” Cetus’ most graceful words slipped from his mouth, glancing down at the towels Verity and Freyja had brought over. A kindness he didn’t quite get, but really he chalked it all down to needing to cooperate in a place like this, as per the ‘cat overlord’’s request.

“I- hmm, thanks. I guess,” he grumbled as Verity advised him to take it easy.

HE KNEW THAT! Hmf. He just didn’t know that a sadistic rich person was actively making him forget facts about himself for funsies somewhere.



Cetus glanced across to the much smaller girl with white hair, then back down to Marina. They were unfortunately right, there’s not much time left. Cetus clenched his jaw and waited until the girls were done swaddling Marina, then it was his turn… He dried off as much of himself as possible, his crimson locks now disheveled but manageable. “Forget it, I’ll carry her, you just show me where the dining hall is. I can’t remember.”



Leaning over, he scooped Marina up bridle-style and used a muscle memory he didn’t realize he had; lifting with the legs, not the back. He hoisted her up with a soft grunt, panning his gaze to the doors of the poolroom. “Alright, one of you will lead the way.” he told them, raising an eyebrow at how light Marina was, though the tail sure did tack on a few extra pounds. What kind of wild experiments were capable of this, he wondered.



Of course, the four of them made it out of the pool room with nothing more than Cetus almost slipping on his own bare-feet with the wet floor tiles. He could hear a few others begin to make their way to the Dining hall, and a part of him was sour that after finally getting out of there, they’d be going back… but, no time for that now. He glanced down at Marina’s face, though didn’t fully tilted his head to give that away. He was holding her, being escorted by her royal entourage– but it felt anything but noble having her swaddled in a few towels and both of them still leaving small droplets behind them…



“Let’s get this over with…” He sighed deeply, adjusting Marina in his grasp with a little push up of her body in his arms to keep her from slipping. He trailed behind Verity and wouldn’t admit the unsettled feeling he got around her just from their short interactions. She was very spartan and militant, something he felt was much too *seeker like*.

On the way to the dining hall, Cetus caught a glance of the Hippy girl, the one with long brown hair and bags under her plum eyes. She was like a zombie, shuffling about with a type of dread on her expression. Deon turned the corner, nearly bumping into it. “I liked the one..” she mumbled. “Where he made the Veal shanks…. mmmm… “

Cetus squinted his eyes and curled a lip in confusion and silent alarm. This place was truly here to torture him, and by the looks of it, everyone else.

It seemed everyone had arrived in some fashion, though. What does Dolly have to say?
​

In a room…


Far away from the Doll house…

In a cell,

A door hissed open.​

​

A man sat lounging on something like a futon, surrounded by clinical tile walls with mild, warm lighting. It’s unclear if the walls are pure white under the soft sunset colors, changing around him. A request that was honored due to good behavior.

His tall form stretched, hearing the door to his chambers sigh open. He ran fingers several times through his long dark hair, combing through it as if to be more presentable.
A woman in a lab coat and humble scrubs stood in the open doorway, her large glasses obscuring her soft, firm stare. “Gleipnir,” she greeted him, glancing at the watch on her under-wrist out of reflex.

“Abagail,” Glephnir offered back softly from across the room. The distance between them spoke for itself, and so did Dr. Abigail's tired, empty stare. “Dr. Lau, please. We’ve been over this.” She scolded gently, and Gleipnir put his hands up in surrender.

“Dr. Lau, so sorry. My medicine’s been making my head really fuzzy.” he told her, and the woman seemed to believe him, reluctantly. He didn’t often complain about symptoms, after all. She’d never been one to hear him out.

“So… We’ll lower the dosage again.” Her voice echoed against the tile walls around them, and the hulking man nodded to her.

“So… What’re you here for? I didn’t know the evaluation was today.”

“It’s not. You know the drill, it’s best not to ask questions. Honestly,” she tilted her chin and nodded, motioning two dark armored guards into the room. They followed her movement with a firm step.

“Even if I told you, you’d laugh.” She mumbled with a tired breath.

“Oh yeah?” Gleipnir replied, leaning forward on his futon, but kept his hands up as the armored figures clambered over to him. They stood on either side, poised with weapons of some kind, but not quite aiming at him.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Dr. Lau stated, backpedaling out of the room. “Plans must blend smoothly. I will be watching you.” she added before glancing back at the man.


“Yes, Doctor.” Gleipnir’s casual, cocky smirk faltered and he looked down, avoiding her gaze a little as he stood. His uniform was different from usual, with a more “janitor” style suit than scrubs. His hands as well, were covered in material not unlike dish gloves. His mouth, barred behind a type of see-through muzzle, as the Guards strapped him in, preparing him for transportation.

They zipped up his uniform and restrained him, though he showed no signs of resistance. As he passed by Dr. Lua, his dark hair with opalescent undertones slipped over his shoulder, and again, his head ducked slowly to avoid her stare. Though, as he felt himself be moved, he began to smile to himself just a little bit.

Oh, something went wrong. Whatever they’re doing, whoever is misbehaving, they’re going to herd them. I wasn’t invited or briefed on anything, so… I’m just going to improvise.

See you there, whoever you are. ​

 

[Abyss]

Quinn

The Talon

Quinn walked through the corridor en route to the Dining Hall, supporting a slightly delirious Soothsayer, who she had found wandering the halls murmuring strange things under her breath. “Are you sure that you’re alright?” Quinn asked Deon, feeling a little lost. The last time Quinn had seen the other experiment, Deon had been in higher spirits and leading a trail of Sonny’s beasties. Had one of the creatures bitten her perhaps? A type of venom, maybe. No, if Deon were injured, then Quinn would have smelled the blood. Besides, it struck her as unlikely that dangerous creatures would have been allowed into the facility unless they were under strict control.

They reached the room on time. As they crossed the threshold into the Dining Hall, Quinn had to pause for a moment, to take in the potent smells and the abundance of food spread across the table. She spotted Boryan at the head of the table and waved to acknowledge his presence, feeling an unexpected surge of relief to see the cat-man once again. As he looked over the table with his arms crossed, he possessed an authoritative air that was reassuring to her. She would have liked to speak with him, but Deon was her current priority.

“Maybe dinner will help, let’s sit down.” Quinn eyed the spread nervously, trying to pick out anything familiar, but she failed to spot her usual rations amongst the mixture.

Most of the others seemed to have gathered already, so she led them to the nearest empty chairs. She’d feel better when Deon was no longer on her feet, just in case her condition took a turn for the worst. Deon’s behavior confused and worried Quinn, who was trying to remember if such symptoms could be possible delayed side effects from the sedative…or perhaps she might have fallen ill? Botan had run off earlier, looking less than stellar. Quinn examined Deon, looking for any similar symptoms. Botan had seemed to have full control of his faculties, but his leafy wings had looked rather wilted and his skin had turned sickly pale. She leaned forward to catch Deon’s scent. There was no smell of sickness.

So why was she acting so strange?

Then the doors to the Dining Hall opened and Quinn turned to see Sonny enter the Dining Hall, with Merrit trailing a few steps behind him. The trainer paused in the doorway, and he quickly surveyed the room. Quinn thought she picked up on a touch of weariness in his eyes as he settled on Deon, but the look was gone in an instant and she couldn’t be entirely sure. She couldn’t see any of the orb-like creatures trailing him. Maybe they’d been sent back to wherever they’d come from.

Merrit on the other hand looked uneasy. His ears were tilted back slightly and the tip of his tail twitched. She still couldn’t tell where he was looking. His pupilless eyes made it difficult to interpret his gaze. She waved him over to the empty seat on her left. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not really. I got stuck taking stock of the supply room with Sonny.” Merrit didn’t sound too pleased about it. He tapped his fingers on the table, nails clicking against the hard surface. “I thought I heard something, but it’s hard to tell. That room is a bit weird. It’s very quiet. I guess maybe it’s because they’ve got the laundry machines in there or something, but I almost missed the announcement. A clock appeared on the wall though, so I figured something was up.”

“Did you find anything interesting in the rest of the place?” Merrit paused. His eyes narrowed, then widened, and he asked with a hushed voice: “Is Deon alright?”

“I think—”

Quinn stopped mid sentence, as she experienced the same strange sensation that had preceded the last announcement caused her to look around in expectation that their host had something to say. Less than a second later and Dolly’s voice rang out, positively dripping with delightful cheer:

“Good evening Darlings, and welcome to the Dining Hall. Tonight’s meal celebrates your arrival and the making of new friends. Please don’t take it personally, but both Mercury and The King of Flowers will not be joining you this evening. Those absent from tonight's dinner have been granted temporary permission to stay in their rooms.

As a reward for your cooperation today, I’ll now go into more detail about the conditions of your stay. For the duration of your time with me, you will be tasked to complete select challenges, with the expectation that you will perform to the best of your abilities. Tomorrow after Breakfast, you will receive your first challenge, which will take place in the training room under the direction of your trainers. You will not be required to prepare anything for this activity, but I suggest you eat well and make an effort to retire early.

You will always be notified the night before a challenge occurs. Successfully completing challenges will result in you receiving special privileges or rewards. Likewise, good behavior will continue to be rewarded, while punishments may be doled out to those who misbehave.

Curfew tonight will occur at 8pm—two hours early—to help ensure that everyone is well rested for tomorrow. Doors will be unlocked until 6am, at which time you have permission to roam freely. Breakfast will start at 7am. Attendance at all mealtimes is mandatory. We wouldn’t want you to waste away! For more information on mealtimes, there is a schedule located in the Kitchen.

Now, go ahead and enjoy your dinner! I’m sure that you’ve worked up an appetite exploring, and I hope that through all your investigations, you’ve found your new home to your liking! If not, don’t fret. I’m sure that you’ll settle in eventually. And if at any point you would like to refresh your memory on any of our discussions, please do not hesitate to give me a call. I’m always available to answer your questions, Darlings."

Oh.

That was a relief!

Quinn smiled, feeling grateful to finally have some clarity on the situation. It had felt like ages since she’d been sent on any missions, or given any meaningful work to do. While a period of rest could make for a welcome break after returning from the field, Quinn wanted to keep contributing to her team. She didn’t know what to expect from these challenges, but there was no doubt in her mind that if her Overseer had volunteered her to participate that she could find a way to represent the Talons and make her team proud.

Quinn turned to look at Merrit, ready to discuss possibilities, and felt her smile fade. His mouth had twisted into a snarl, bearing sharply pointed teeth and his ears were pressed fully to the sides of his head. He wasn't looking at her, but rather his own hands, which were clenched on the table. The look on his face was that of pure anger, but a bitter smell filled the air.

He was afraid.

Hesitantly, Quinn reached out. Her fingers had barely brushed his arm when she felt him flinch harshly from her touch.

"Please don't." Merrit's voice was more quiet than she'd expected; like all of his energy had been zapped away. He leaned on the table, resting his face in his hands; fingers tangled in his hair. He didn't look back up. "I just need a moment, to think."

Dining Hall

Anxious

White Uniform

coded by natasha.

 

[Headphones]

location

Dining Hall.

mood

laid-back, calm, curious

outfit

white tracksuit

mentions

Savanah.

Jack Beaumont

"Sort of, my ability is multi-faceted."

With his lips still on the glass, Jack followed Dream's slender hand with his eyes as it rose. From that delicate upwards-facing palm, the fingers of which were as unscathed as those of an ever-gloved noble, a glowing blue butterfly appeared and ascended towards their concrete heaven, vanishing shortly after taking its first flight.

It would be a lie to say that Jack didn't find such a display pleasant. His gaze had followed the apparition until its very last moment in existence. The summoning was excellently executed and each and every one of the image's movements was elegant, refined and with an air of mystery to it, much like the namesake of its creator. However, while he could give it a good mark for presentation, it didn't score any points for novelty, as he had seen similar performances before, courtesy of Big-Chihuahua-Totem-Pole and others in their division.

"I'm able to cast illusions as well as put people to sleep." Dream clarified, arm dropping back down to his side. "There's also the side-effect of being pulled into people's dreams, if I'm close enough to them while asleep."

'Hmmm~ A bit of a mix between me and that red seawe-, wait, that doesn't sound right. AT ALL. Banish the thought. Banish it!' Jack thought, took a large gulp from his glass, sighed and let go so that it may vanish into thin air before hitting the ground.

"Hey, side-effects are only natural with our gifts." he reassured the saintly youth, as he seemed to have gotten a bit flustered while trying to finish his explanation. "If anything, when used on others, my own ability may or may not put them to sleep after a while, too."

Before either of them could move forward with their conversation, the speakers buzzed and a woman's voice chimed throughout the facility:

"Pardon the intrusion, if everyone please pause their current activities and pay attention."
'Oh. Polite, but too short to be our Hera.'
"It is almost time for dinner. All residents are to be in the Dining Hall in 15 minutes. More instructions will be provided after your meal."
'Food before explanation? Definitely not our Hera. Or her staff.'
"A counter is available in each of the rooms to help you keep track of the time - and remember darlings, it's rude to be tardy!"

Jack glanced at the clock above the door and observed how the 15-minute countdown began in a classic red font. Neither the announcement, nor the evident use of time-restrain bothered him the least, for all that could ever concern him was whether he was doing his job as instructed or not. He was in the right spot, thus, there was no need to pay it any more mind.

"I wonder what we're having for dinner." Dream mused aloud as he looked at their seats, then peeked up at Jack. Those cyan eyes conveyed his askance, they beckoned him, lured him in like a hot butter croissant in front of a sleep-deprived university student.

"Now that," Jack smiled and bent down a bit so that the two could be at the same eye-level. "is the right question to be asking. Hmhmm, I like you already." He then returned to an upright position, only to lift up his arms and clasp them in the air, so that he may give his back a good stretch. "Whatever it is, it better not be a bland salad. Not that I'm not a fan of salads, but I prefer them rich and fresh." With his muscles content, he dropped his hands back down. "From what I've seen, none of us need to go on a diet. Besides, I'm guessing whatever group show we'll be having won't have us sitting around. Now, where's your chair? I'd rather sit on the fun side of the table."

In the minutes that followed, they took a seat next to each other - Dream in his original spot and Jack to his left. It had once been where Mercury had sat, but the all-drink-wonder neither knew of it, nor did the thought of asking for a switch bloom his consciousness. What he was more interested in was the antropomorphic black cat that came through the door and the little parade of food, plates and utensils floating in a line behind him, like ducklings following their mother. This one he remembered as having the family name Cappello, since he had heard his introduction whilst feigning sleep, and that he'd been assigned as their personal chef or something along those lines.

'So little time and the first thing he did was spring into his role. Nice. A seasoned one. We'll get along nicely. Especially since Kety is around. Lets see. There's a, of course, tomato, pesto and onion salad. Lots of fried potatoes in that glass casserole and ~oh!~ yep, butter garlic bread. Mm!' he thought.

"With that timing, I'd say it's just right." Jack said, quietly swallowing as he held back the urge to immediately grab a slice of the warm bread. Strong smells and flavours were qualities he favoured the most, especially since all that experimentation dulled those two scenes of his to a degree. With a snap of his fingers, a tall glass of Cuba Libre appeared next to his plate. He then turned to Dream and continued, "I can make you one as well, if you'd like."

Unfortunately, before Dionysus could show off his skills further, a certain someone emerged from the deep, that is to say, entered the room. Ridiculously tall with equally ridiculously ruffled damp hair and an expression somewhere between 'Please, end me now' and 'Please, let me end you all', while carrying the petit pink-haired damsel from before. This time, Jack managed to contain his laughter to a single "kha!", but Cetus wouldn't be spared with just that.

"E for effort!" Jack clapped thrice in his direction with a wide smile. "E for effort!" He then leaned towards Dream and spoke in a low voice. "That, my friend, is Cetus. Kety for short. He's from my Division and he has an ability where he -should- be able to make some little lights, buuut, he'd rather throw tantrums instead. If he looks like he's about to blow a fuse, he probably will. In that case, come find me, so we can both run away together."

One by one, most of the other test subjects appeared in the Dining Hall. Once the 15 minutes were up, the voice sounded again, as promised.

“Good evening Darlings, and welcome to the Dining Hall. Tonight’s meal celebrates your arrival and the making of new friends. Please don’t take it personally, but both Mercury and The King of Flowers will not be joining you this evening. Those absent from tonight's dinner have been granted temporary permission to stay in their rooms.

As a reward for your cooperation today, I’ll now go into more detail about the conditions of your stay. For the duration of your time with me, you will be tasked to complete select challenges, with the expectation that you will perform to the best of your abilities. Tomorrow after Breakfast, you will receive your first challenge, which will take place in the training room under the direction of your trainers. You will not be required to prepare anything for this activity, but I suggest you eat well and make an effort to retire early.

You will always be notified the night before a challenge occurs. Successfully completing challenges will result in you receiving special privileges or rewards. Likewise, good behavior will continue to be rewarded, while punishments may be doled out to those who misbehave.

Curfew tonight will occur at 8pm—two hours early—to help ensure that everyone is well rested for tomorrow. Doors will be locked until 6am, at which time you have permission to roam freely. Breakfast will start at 7am. Attendance at all mealtimes is mandatory. We wouldn’t want you to waste away! For more information on mealtimes, there is a schedule located in the Kitchen.

Now, go ahead and enjoy your dinner! I’m sure that you’ve worked up an appetite exploring, and I hope that through all your investigations, you’ve found your new home to your liking! If not, don’t fret. I’m sure that you’ll settle in eventually. And if at any point you would like to refresh your memory on any of our discussions, please do not hesitate to give me a call. I’m always available to answer your questions, Darlings."

". . .Well, that's that." Jack said whilst looking at the speakers, then got up and grabbed two slices of garlic bread, which went directly onto his plate. Next was the spoon for the fried potatoes, which he promptly took and started placing some next to the bread. "Dream, you want some?"

coded by natasha.

 

[Abyss]

Belmont

SEEKER

​

Observation Deck
Day One: 10:00pm

​

HALO Overseer Belmont was sitting at the Observation Deck, a remote viewing room restricted to Overseers and authorized personnel involved in managing the Fated project. The room was large enough to comfortably fit them all at once, but the lack of windows made it feel claustrophobic regardless. The chairs, at least, were quite comfortable. He was able to sit with his right leg stretched in front of him to relieve some of the pain in his knee. The injury was nearing twenty years old, but ached as fiercely as ever. The only benefit that it offered was that the pain kept him alert in spite of the late hour.

In Belmont’s hands he idly twirled his cane. This one was topped with an ivory dove holding a piece of willow in its beak, but Belmont didn’t feel particularly at peace. Pictures of the subjects lined a large screen that nearly filled the entire wall; listed in alphabetical order according to their project names. Two of them had been crossed out with large Xs, with a note below them reading “EXPERIMENT TERMINATED”.

“What a shame.”

Belmont turned his head in the direction of the exit, where a dark-haired man in his late forties pushed a tray topped with a pot of coffee, two mugs and a cluttered clipboard. The man was dressed in a clean, but tattered lab coat that hung onto his skeletal frame like an oversized coat. His skin was very pale from a lack of sunlight and he had dark circles under his eyes that added a haunted quality to his appearance. Both features were a testament to his dedication to his work. That and perhaps a severe lack of resources needed to hire extra hands in order to remove the excess burdens of his work.

“Good evening, Hancott.”

Overseer Martin Hancott scoffed. Then he slipped into one of the empty seats next to Belmont. He’d placed the tray between them, like a small table, but used the clipboard across his lap like a platter to rest his coffee on anyways. Belmont had seen him do the same thing when in his office, sitting at an overpiled desk. Hancott had good qualities, but organisation wasn’t one of them.

“You know the twins are pissed.” Hancott said, ignoring all attempts at pleasantries. He looked past Belmont and waved toward the picture of the King of Flowers. “Miranda made a mess on her way out. The assistants will have their hands full cleaning up for the next few hours.”

“They were aware of the risks,” Belmont replied. His voice was cold. “Did they lose the subject?”

“He’s hanging on. They’ll update us on the outcome.” Hancott looked at Belmont sideways. “Everyone wants to know the outcome of failure. I heard Tiamat is hanging around the area. Think the dragon will lend out some of her precious resources?”

Belmont paused. He picked up his mug from the tray and took a sip of coffee. “Miracles do happen.”

Hancott let out an exasperated sigh. He seemed to sink into the chair, a brooding look settling across his features. “Not often enough.”

“What about the other one? The ex-soldier,” asked Belmont, prodding Hancott before he could descend into a mullish pout.

“Same condition. More or less.” Hancott replied. “They’re disappointed, but he’s not dead, so they’ll make do. The military types do tend to be resilient, after all.”

“That’s why we tend to use them for the Angels.” Belmont said, feeling some measure of relief. He was careful not to let it show on his face. He didn't need to look up at the screen, where a picture of his own candidate was displayed. Weakness was not something to be encouraged, even amongst colleagues. Perhaps especially among colleagues within their field. Belmont was the oldest amongst the current Overseers, and Hancott had been a part of SEEKERS for nearly the same amount of time. They'd known each other for multiple decades at this point, however Belmont could say that he still didn't trust him. No one who managed to climb the ranks within this organization did so by trusting others. “This new technology we're using. It’s that volatile, is it?”

“It's not technically finished development, yet.” Hancott spoke dismissively, but when he sipped his own cup of coffee, his fingers were clenched too tight around the handle for the other man to be entirely at ease. “Trial and error have always been a part of the process,” Hancott sighed. Then he gestured to the screen. “Still, it's a shame that it doesn't work as well on regular candidates. It would make testing it so much easier if we could just use the usual methods.”

“If it were easy, then it wouldn’t be a true Seeker endeavor,” Belmont chided while internally thinking to himself, perhaps we've become spoiled. Belmont didn’t work in the labs, but he did remember the early trials of S.O.L technology; the losses had been extreme. By the time they'd gone public with the technology, they'd fine tuned the process significantly. Losses still occurred of course, but improving the selection process had done a great deal towards ensuring project longevity. The top five SEEKER projects currently maintained a success rate exceeding 80%. HALO had been a pioneer in that regard. Belmont could say with great pride that the Angels had the lowest rate of rejection amongst their production class; thanks largely to their stringent application process. They were also one of the few to have a 100% volunteer rate. Well—he thought of the blond haired man on the screen—99.9%. Rule-breaking was occasionally necessary, and knowing when to do so was a skill in and of itself. Recruitment methods were an incredibly divisive topic amongst their circle, but Belmont preferred willing cooperation as much as possible. In his experience, subjects that were forced to undergo the transformation process had a tendency to remain ill-tempered and resistant towards following orders. Even if the initial resentment wore off, he wouldn't trust them to fulfill their duties without the possibility of sabotage. In contrast, the Angels were well known for their loyalty. Former soldiers that had already proved their metal, they were exceptionally disciplined and eager to prove their worth. Becoming an Angel was a matter of pride.

Hancott eyed Belmont from the side of his eyes, even as he pretended to stare at the screen. “You must be disappointed. He seemed pretty chummy with your candidate.”

“It’s unfortunate, but replacements have already been selected.”

“Oh?”

“An official update was released almost an hour ago. Busy with work, I take it.”

“I may not have access to my subject at the moment, but there’s always more work to be done. A shame about the timing though.” Belmont expected that Hancott was trying to draw similarities between their situation regarding their candidates. Project Leviathan had been a last minute addition after the Cerberus candidate had been withdrawn from the applications. When Belmont didn’t respond to his attempt to fish for more information, Hancott stirred restlessly in his seat. “I just want to know. What’s the story between you two? Half-Light Angel wasn’t a project anyone else was aware of and since when do you have secret subjects?”

“Everyone has secret projects.”

“Hmph. Your division releases new Angels once a year like clockwork, and has kept to that schedule for the last ten years. You’re a businessman, Belmont. You sell a product, you don’t dabble in experimental adventures. Frankly, you've never struck me as the artistic type.”

“Are you one of those people who think an old dog can’t learn new tricks, Hancott?”

“I would never assume anything of you, old friend.”

“Doubting your own chance of success, perhaps?”

“Never. My girl can hold her own. She’s adaptable.” Hancott snickered at his own joke.

“You seemed uncharacteristically reluctant to join. I thought the opportunity to participate in a project of this scale would have seemed more exciting to you.”

“It was unexpected. You can’t fault me for needing time to process the sudden change in direction.” It was subtle, but Hancott’s expression sharpened slightly. The practiced friendliness strained as the corners of his mouth twitched, then pulled further back as if he were fighting the urge to sneer. Belmont had apparently stepped on a nerve. He decided to press further. “Three failed attempts were made to make something useful out of Leviathan; the experiment was considered beyond saving. You, however, were quick to take over that project when the last Overseer abandoned it. What makes you think she’ll succeed when experiments with a more proven history have already failed.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” Malcolm finally ground out between clenched teeth. “Leviathan has potential. The others just didn’t have the talent necessary to do anything useful with it. Not to change the subject, but that reminds me. I know that we’re expanding, but it wouldn’t hurt to be a little choosier in who we invite into the fold. I’m serious, Belmont—we've been elevating potential candidates to Overseer positions like we’re playing a game of catch-em-all and someone else might grab them first.”

"I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Really?”

“SEEKERS has always required very delicate care; balancing economic interests with our more personal ‘missions.’ This past decade has seen us do remarkably well on both fronts."

“But?”

“The longer we continue to experience success, the more trusting we become in our ability to maintain it. A certain amount of confidence will always be necessary, but overconfidence in our ability would be detrimental. Having each new member sponsored into the program by a mentor was time-consuming, but also very effective. We have some truly outstanding new Overseers, but the twins have long been problematic. In the future I suspect they’ll be used to find some proof of the relationship between creative-genius and madness.”

“Did you just make a joke?”

“I do have a sense of humor.”

“I was beginning to think it had retired.”

“Spare me. You wouldn’t believe some of the security reports I’ve processed regarding those two. I’ll sleep better knowing that they’ve been removed from this particular project. ”

“We’ll all sleep better now—Ding-dong the Witch is dead! She was a talentless hack and her tantrums are expensive. Were expensive,” Hancott self-corrected with a satisfied smile.

Belmont raised an eyebrow. He sipped the coffee again, this time in order to hide a small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re sure this has nothing to do with the 12% diversion of funds from your department to theirs?”

Hancott’s smile vanished. His face twisted into a pained expression. “You've no idea what I could do, if only I had more support. Belmont, the plans that I have.” The invitation to press the subject was blatant, but Belmont let the subject slide. That was the problem, Belmont didn’t say. When it became clear Belmont wasn't going to pursue the bait, Hancott cleared his throat and carried on. "Now tell me. Who’d they wrangle into playing house. Or were the other divisions just leaping at the chance to place their subjects center-stage.”

“Gleipnir has been selected to fill in for The King of Flowers, and Adamant Amber from Project Reliquary will be replacing Quicksilver as one of the training assistants.” They had gotten lucky with Amber. There weren’t as many candidates to fulfil a training role and even cooperative subjects had limits on what risks they would willingly endure. The risks associated with the Fated project weren’t fully understood yet. Most of the Overseers weren’t willing to put their best subjects on the line.

They were standing on the edge of a new frontier and for the first time in years, Belmont felt well and truly excited about the direction the Seekers were heading.

“Be careful, Belmont. Things are changing.” This project. If it’s successful…it could rearrange the balance.” Belmont remained silent. There was no point in pouring salt into an open wound. Martin Hancott’s position had been steadily declining over the last decade. Amongst the Overseers participating in Project Fated, it could be said that he stood to gain or lose the most. Despite what he'd said earlier about still having work to do, Belmont doubted that he had much left to work with; Leviathan had just barely been salvaged from demolition.

Though they had their differences, Belmont was fond of Hancott. The man spoke his mind and despite his current failings, he had been a key contributor in developing S.O.L technology. No one could deny his contributions were critical to the modern rise of SEEKERS, but the last meaningful developments he'd made had been eight years ago. Belmont expected that his selection to participate in Project Fated was made partly to hasten his inevitable demotion. No one else on the board seemed to expect otherwise—let the man gamble for one last chance at redemption. An ignoble end, but more than was given to most who failed to live up to the organization’s expectations.

Observation Deck
Day One: 10:23pm

“So the smell of coffee wasn’t my imagination.” The door slid open and Overseer Elizabeth ‘Elis’ Bryers entered the room. Elis was a short, plain looking woman with a brown bob-haircut and prominent crows-feet around her eyes that betrayed her good sense of humor. “I thought for sure the deck would be empty. What are you two gossiping about?”

“If it isn’t the head of the flock come down to roost for the night. Have you come to brood over the newest additions?”

“I managed to find some time to step away. I just wanted to check on how they're doing.”

“Yours is still in the game,” Hancott replied, with a nod of his head towards the large screen. Elis’ eyes crinkled at the edges slightly; her eyes flitted across the screen to settle on a young woman with brown hair and small, blue horns sticking out of her forehead. The subject’s title was KESTREL. Belmont hadn’t immediately been able to recognize her human form, but as the original TALON they would have met before during the project's testing and development phases. One of the advantages of being a board member was the additional insight it allowed him beyond his own projects. “It was a rather eventful evening. We can pull up the day’s highlights if you’d like.”

“Yes, they tried their best to make a mess of things. Grab a seat. We’ll fill you in.”

“If I sit down now I'll never get back up. There was a flux in the incubator. We've got twelve TALONs hatching nearly a week early and our performance report is having to be adjusted for them as we speak.”

“The downfall of working with living things; they tend to have a mind of their own. What’s the saying? Don't work with children or animals?” This earned Malcom an unamused glare and a prominent middle-finger when he wasn’t looking.

“That’s odd for your division isn’t it. Have you found the error?”

“Yes and no. Luckily a sample project was put on hold and they diverted some of the staff to us.” Elis leaned on the back of one of the chairs, eyeing the barely touched coffee. Belmont took the kerchief from his suit pocket, wiped the rim of the mug and offered it to the Project Talon Overseer. He made a mental note to request to have an actual coffee station added to the deck.

“Thank you.” Elis poured coffee into the cup then downed it immediately, then as she began to speak again, she refilled the mug. “I forgot how hellish early development is. I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to manage the new concept designers. They’re trying, but—” Elis paused to down her second cup of coffee—“you know, I don't remember it being this difficult with the Talons”— before repeating the cycle to refill her mug a third time — “and I suppose that I have you to blame for this.”

Elis’ gaze narrowed toward Belmont.

“Not entirely,” was all he was willing to say on the subject.

“No, but just enough. As if I don't have enough on my plate already. The Talons are consistent. They've always performed well on the field, but now here I am running around like a chicken without a head, because the board is breathing down my neck, demanding something new.” Elizabeth’s gaze narrowed toward Belmont. “So forgive me if I can’t help but wonder who in God's name gave them that idea.”

“If the workload is truly more than you can handle then we can discuss this later,” Belmont interrupted. She looked at Hancott, then deflated somewhat. Belmont's reluctance to talk was only partially motivated by Hancott’s current predicament. While he possessed no desire to insult the man by discussing Elis’ new assignment in his presence, there were other matters of a more sensitive nature that had influenced The Board's decisions to move on from project Talon. Only a very small number of Overseers were going to be involved, and Hancott was not among them.

“So, what’s tomorrow’s schedule like?”

Belmont couldn’t quite tell if Hancott was simply trying to break the awkward silence or pointing out their lack of subtlety, but Elis appeared to go with the former; her enthusiasm returned. “That would be our submission, Escort.” She pulled up the relevant file on the computer terminal, switching the screen from the list of candidates to a modified map of the Training Room. “I think it should prove quite interesting, as well as good practice for Dolly. We included the assistants in the poll for which candidates should be used as the injured person stand-ins, since they seem to be rather entertained by this particular project.”

“Do be careful that nothing of the experiment finds its way into general again. I’d like to avoid a repeat of the Ackerman incident.”

Hancott perked up at the mention of it. “A shame about how that turned out. You know, I still think that an above-board betting pool might be worth implementing. If they’re going to do it anyways—”

“The incentive to manipulate the experiment poses too much of a threat to the integrity of the experiment.” This was an old conversation and Hancott looked as if he was ready to settle in for a debate on the topic again, so when Belmont’s wrist-mounted pager beeped he thanked his luck for the timely opportunity to escape. “That would be my cue; I have business to attend to. Alert me if any significant developments occur.”

“How should we reach you?” Inquired Elis. Long distance communications to and from the facility were sometimes unreliable, and a delay in communications might mean forfeiting his ability to make decisions for Project Fated if they required immediate action. There hadn’t been any signs of failure in the other subjects, but…

“The local network will suffice.”

“I see.”

Belmont gave them each a polite nod, then left the Observation Deck; careful not to put as much of his weight on the cane as he would have liked. His personal assistant met him a polite distance away from the door. "I'll be returning to my office. Assume that we'll be staying unless I tell you otherwise."

"Yes sir." Aish put his hand on Belmont's shoulder, then world was burned from his vision in a sudden and explosive flash of blinding white light.

Observation Deck

Dove Cane

Suit

N?A

coded by natasha.

 

[Abyss]

Maddox perspective by Abyss
Lian perspective by Savi

Maddox

Overseer

Maddox had not been unfamiliar with the SEEKERS prior to joining, but it was a relief to find their reputation was well earned. He had never been provided such freedom to explore. Here, he was encouraged to express his artistic talent however the desire struck him, and to test ideas that would have had him put to trial had his former acquaintances suspected that he’d even contemplated such procedures. Maddox was not prone to feeling very emotional, but he found himself wondering if this was how the others had felt. A sort of unity from being surrounded by like-minded individuals. Not that it really mattered to him of course; all this was only a means to an end. He felt the corner of his lip twitch; threatening to twist into a wretched sneer. Progress on that front was being delayed.

How dare they

How dare they

How dare they

Unfamiliar assistants and technicians buzzed about Maddox’s studio like a swarm of ants, examining patient portfolios and attempting to go through his notes faster than he could swat them away from his workspace. He was outnumbered and they had the advantage of surprise. This wasn’t his first experience being raided however. Maddox knew better than to keep any truly sensitive information within reach of his employers. Privacy only went one way down the hierarchical ladder, because of fucking course it did. He hadn’t expected anything different, but that didn’t stop him from seething. This was his work, his canvas. Seekers were artists, didn’t they know—they should know—that it was rude to interfere with another creator’s masterpiece. Yet, they hadn’t so much asked his permission as demanded he present a substitute. Maddox, well he didn’t have a choice did he? He wanted them—needed them—to see the importance of his work. He was already a master of his craft, so it shouldn't take long, but dancing about like an obedient puppet was his least favorite method of persuasion. To make matters worse, it was his only method of persuasion here.

“Sir, if you would please fill out this questionnaire.” An assistant with a black ID lanyard hanging from his neck asked Maddox with the slightest tinge of urgency coloring his tone. Maddox was vaguely aware that this was the third time he had been asked this. His attention was more focused on the assistant threatening to crease the pages as she flipped through one of his binders.

“What is this, some kind of performance review?”

“No, Sir. This is to do with patient care. Please, Sir. There isn’t much time and—”

Maddox grabbed the tablet, skimming the outline. Dietary Preferences, Allergies, Containment Measures… The document did indeed list questions pertaining to his current muse. The assistant’s demand that time was of the essence seemed a tad excessive though. The list was very short and in fact missing several key elements. “Whoever designed this is an idiot.” In his peripheral vision, the assistant’s face turned red. “Well, Sir. There is a spot at the end if you have additional notes you consider important. You may—”

“Yes, yes. I’ll add to it.” Maddox shooed the man away, though instead of making himself useful the assistant merely sighed dramatically and found the nearest spot to loiter. Maddox pointedly ignored all further attempts to distract him from his work.

There were those who called him Mad Mckay, but he’d never actually been insane—only ever misunderstood because the others refused to open their minds and see. The air in the SEEKERS facility was rife with jealousy and despair. A special sort of desperation born from the mediocre chasing infamy like baited dreams; blind to the hooks buried inside the fine print. They’d never make it anywhere, by following the rules and living up to the expected quarterly estimates oh-so-carefully calculated by their employers. Artists did not live up to expectations, they thwarted them. To that end, Corporations were the antithesis of a true artist. Rules and regulations being the natural enemy of innovation. Maddox understood this. He was a true artist. His work shook the foundation of what had been thought possible. Even the Seekers had to admit they were impressed. Although they certainly had a funny way of showing respect.

The situation reeked of Corporate Bullshit, but Maddox had to convince them that he could be corporate too. He didn’t want to end up the kind of artist that gained their fame posthumously. He planned to enjoy his fame. There wasn’t a point to putting something on display without having an audience to appreciate it. And so far, he’d received a satisfying amount of praise; well manicured compliments and grudging admissions of competence from superiors and competitors both. Those helped to feed the empty hole in his chest that fed on others admiration. A terrible flaw to be reliant on others for survival, but he'd found no alternative to satisfy that particular craving. Not that he needed to, really. Maddox had found a wealthy sponsor and obtained a venue to host his gallery. He was in fact, well on his way to claiming the spotlight. He just needed to complete his collection—A sudden ping of alarm went off in his brain. Raiding his studio had been somewhat predictable, but surely they wouldn’t dare—Turning on the spot, Maddox briskly walked out of his studio. He didn’t bother to explain himself or return the tablet, rather he had a far more important task. And if there were footsteps trying doggedly to keep up with him, then Maddox pretended not to notice.

​

Residential Floor A was used for the more humanoid subjects. Those that didn't require excessive space and could be contained using rather simple measures. Maddox's studio was located only two floors above. He would have preferred to keep his canvas in his studio, but alas, one of the drawbacks for working at SEEKERS was that there were regulations. Maddox had to remind himself that the sacrifice was worth it, but in situations like the one right now he struggled to come up with a convincing argument on their behalf.

“Sir, your presence is still required!”

The sound of footsteps behind him were like a dog nipping at his heels. Maddox was a very tall man, and he covered ground incredibly quickly; long strides eating up the distance and forcing the assistant trailing behind him to jog in order to keep up. Anyone else should have gotten the message. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Maddox was deliberately evading him. And yet.

Maddox had navigated the twisting halls of the facility and failed to outmaneuver the assistant and it was chipping away at his self-control. Then finally, Maddox reached the elevator. Turning around, he caught sight of the flushed assistant running down the hall. The man reached out a hand, “Sir, plea—” Maddox forced the doors to shut early with the press of a button, smiling wickedly at the panic-stricken face that was blocked out.

The elevator at least reached its destination with no delays, but when the doors opened, Maddox found his passage blocked by a young woman dressed in an assistant uniform. “Is something wrong, Sir?”

“Everything,” he muttered bitterly under his breath whilst pushing past her.

​

A lithe figure crouched towards the back of a cell furnished with basic amenities, long snow-colored locks pooling around his slender shoulders as he hunched in on himself as if to make his form as small as he could. Lian pressed as close to the back wall as he could, as if he were trying to become one with the barrier at his back. His icy blue orbs were narrowed into slits, his gaze full of unease and wariness as he stared down the figures standing on the other side of the thick glass that was at the front of his cell. One glance at the group high-lighted that Maddox was not among them, which was a big breach of Maddox's rules. His Overseer was very particular in how things were carried out when it came to Lian, so the man not being present was raising all kinds of red flags in Lian's mind.

His eyes snapped to an assistant as she talked to him in a soothing tone of voice, trying to coax him forward towards them. His top full lip curled back to bare his teeth at her as she talked to him like some kind of animal that needed calming down, though he did rather look very much like a cornered animal with the way he hunkered down in the corner. But he wasn't about to be punished for breaking Maddox's rules and making him angry, so he was planning on being as uncooperative as he could until his Overseer showed up and started giving out orders.

​

“We should call security.”

“Just a moment.”

“This is taking too long, Benson—”

Maddox picked up on several voices as he neared containment 62A; confirming his earlier suspicions and blackening his already foul mood. Rounding the corner, he was able to see that the barrier setting for The Beastmaster’s cell had been switched off using the outer control panel, rendering the walls see-through for subject removal. Three assistants of some sort were trying to coax him out. However, whatever attempts they had made to remove his canvas from the cell had clearly failed. Maddox could see him scrunched away at the farthest end, refusing to move. He smirked, allowing himself to briefly indulge in feeling a smidgen of pride that his subject was obeying his orders and not the others. See. At least someone knew how to behave. Then, with barely a second thought to mull over the potential consequences, Maddox stuck his hand in the pocket of his lab coat where he kept a small, inconspicuous remote. It was time that meddling data scrubbers learned to leave his work well enough alone.

Switching the collar safety off with the press of a button felt a little like turning on the lights and watching the roaches scatter. The dark haired assistant's expression faltered, eyes widening with panic. He reached for the emergency button on the base of the lanyard hanging around his neck. With a growl, Maddox swatted the assistant's hand away before he could summon security. The man started to open his mouth with an expression as if he was going to dare to complain, but Maddox interrupted before he could get a word out. “That is my canvas you're messing with. You are overstepping your bounds, assistant.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience, Overseer.” One of the women replied, recovering quickly from the surprise of his appearance before expertly switching into professional grovelling mode, for which Maddox felt his stomach heave. “We've been granted permission to retrieve the candidate, sir, in accordance with regulations. The patient was listed as compliant, so why isn't he—” Maddox didn't bother to correct her assumption. The patient was cooperative. With him. That was the important bit. It didn't matter how he behaved with anyone else, because no one else was supposed to interfere.

“Enough. This is my canvas, get out.” Either something about the tone of his voice must have convinced them he was serious, or perhaps the assistants didn't want to push their luck with The Beastmaster, who was still very much being not cooperative. Either way, they did pause and move just enough that Maddox was free to enter the cell. He walked forward with careful, measured steps. Artists did not rush for anyone, but especially not for the middleman who hadn't actually commissioned the piece.

“You,” he ordered. “Get on the gurney.”

​

A small beep echoed in the quiet of his cell, the sound a familiar one that caused some of his unease to disappear. Only one person had the authority outside of the Seekers to turn off his collar and though a sweep of the group confirmed no Overseer among them, this at least meant that Maddox was on his way and was aware of what was happening.

Like a snake uncoiling itself, Lian rose gracefully to his feet, eyes boring into the staff standing outside of his cell. The obsidian snake they could all see curled around his throat above the collar began to glow crimson and Lian bared his teeth at them once more. The fangs he revealed were needle sharp and glistening with venom that would paralyze any that came into contact with it.

He stood quietly at the back of his cell, his fangs a silent threat that he would defend himself should any of them dare to come into his cell without his Overseer present. But such actions would not be necessary, the rest of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he heard Maddox's voice rise up over the rest.

The moment Maddox stepped into the cell, all traces of aggression vanished as if a switch had been flipped, Lian's fangs receding and the crimson glow around his throat fading. He moved the second his Overseer gave the order, walking obediently over to entrance of his cell and slipping past the assistants that gave him a wide berth.

He climbed onto the gurney and laid back against it. Though his expression presented that he seemed relaxed, his eyes nervously flitted around the space and his muscles were tensed despite his best efforts.

​

“Good boy,” Maddox said whilst petting his canvas hair. So much had gone wrong today, but at least this one particular thing hadn't changed. He then set the restraints across the canvas’ limbs, checking their strength and ensuring they weren't too tight so as to chaff the delicate skin. When he was satisfied with his work he turned his attention back to the assistants.

“In the future my own staff should work with Beastmaster, exclusively. I have certain protocols in place,” Maddox emphasized that particular word, since they seemed to love hiding behind the company jargon to excuse their own incompetence. “These interruptions are unnecessarily cumbersome and they pose a risk to the quality of my work.” One of the assistants opened his mouth as if to object, but he was cut off by one of the others. “We will add a priority notice to the file.”

“As you should have. Now, guide us to wherever it is we're needed currently.”

The assistants did as they were told. They led him to another floor far, far lower where he had not yet been permitted access. The floor was nondescript, but oddly silent and what employees he did see all possessed black lanyards, which indicated that the area was heavily restricted. Maddox looked around, feeling rather curious in spite of himself, but to his frustration there was very little to give him any idea about what kind of activities were taking place. They travelled down one of the long hallways, until they entered a medical room with several gurneys bearing sedated experiments.

Beastmaster's gurney was wheeled over to a station that had been prepared ahead of time. There were medical monitors and other equipment that Maddox was not trained to use. His tools were of a different kind, although he dared anyone to call them less advanced. “We're going to sedate him now,” the female assistant informed him. Maddox nodded his head as permission to proceed. He did not actually interfere with them while they worked, but he hovered over the assistants to ensure they were correctly motivated.

“There. He should be feeling more relaxed now,” the same assistant announced. The others dispersed immediately, as if they would rather be anywhere else. “It shouldn't be too long now. The other subjects were already cleared for the procedure, so we'll just wait until his vitals have adjusted and then it will be time to proceed.”

The assistant left to join the rest of the Seekers, who were examining multiple screens at a computer station. Maddox could have joined them, probably, but his patience was already stretched far too thinly and having already suffered so much tampering for one day, he wasn't in the mood to let his guard down yet. There wasn’t anywhere to sit, so he continued to stand, shifting his weight from foot to foot in an effort to get some sort of relief. He cast his gaze around, watching the Seekers as they milled about like ants. That entertained him for a minute or two, but then his attention drifted back to his canvas. “It appears our plans are going to be put on pause for a while. I'll have you know this wasn’t my choice, really. You were coming along so very nicely." Maddox felt his thoughts drift, as he was reminded of all the designs he had planned and wouldn't be able to work on now. So don’t go thinking this is over. I don’t plan on leaving you unfinished…” Maddox's voice dropped to barely a whisper as he looked down at his canvas. “That would be cruel, wouldn't it?” He certainly thought so. What could be more insulting than a creator who abandoned their work half-finished; cursed to always wonder what they could be?

“Just get this over with as soon as you can. Don't forget that you're also not allowed to damage yourself, or be damaged either.” Maddox fidgeted, irritable as he tried to think of anything else he wanted to say. Nothing came to mind, so gradually his voice faded into silence. He began to think of various new tattoo ideas. His fingers itched, and twitched restlessly with the need to start transferring his ideas onto paper. He was just about to snatch a clipboard from the table when he noticed a shift in the room's atmosphere. He had missed the signal, but the Seekers were moving in unison. The gurneys were being assembled into line.

On the opposite end of the room they gathered in front of a heavy metal door that looked more like the entrance to a vault than something that belonged in a medical facility. The thing looked like it could withstand a tank. There was a pause as they waited in silence, then a sudden very loud hiss as the various interlocking mechanisms of the lock unwound. In teams, they pushed the gurneys through the door. Maddox moved to follow the assembly, but when he tried to pass through the gate he was stopped.

“You are not permitted further,” said the security agent posted by the door. “You may wait here until the procedure is complete or return to your duties. The choice is yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Authorized personnel only.” Maddox did not usually have issues with security personnel, but he could not make this one budge, despite trying his best to look authoritative. There was a metal pin on his uniform in the shape of a sword encircled by angel wings. An operative from HALO then. That certainly explained the arrogance.

“I'm an Overseer.”

“Not the right kind unfortunately.”

A woman with dark skin and a long dark braid approached. Internally Maddox swore—it seemed that today he'd been cursed to deal with an overabundance of idiots who couldn't avoid poking their noses into his business.

“Well, could you tell this man I'm to enter. Please.”

“No.”

Maddox felt his teeth grind. He had to focus to keep his face from betraying how he really felt. The woman cocked her head slightly. She had a sharp gaze, but her expression was rather bored looking—like she was trying to decide if her intervention was even worth the effort.

“It's not a matter of rank. It's a very delicate procedure and what lies on the other side of that door isn't in the habit of playing nice.”
“The only ones who have access are those performing the operation. You will however find some details available to you on the computer in the Observation Deck.”
“They will be limited due to the fact that you're still considered a new member.”

“And who are you, exactly?” Maddox grouched. He was normally better at ‘playing nice,’ but much like whatever thing lied behind the door, he was picky about who he cooperated with.

“Tiamat.”

Fuck. Alarm bells sounded off in his head. Tiamat was notorious for her own temper and unfortunately she was exactly the kind of person he couldn't afford to piss off.

“I didn't think you would be here.”

“No?”

“The Tiamats—the dragons—” Maddox stumbled over his words a bit, but it didn’t seem to matter. No sooner than he'd tried to get the words out did Tiamat continue speaking over him in a way that he knew meant she was deliberately screwing with him.

“I don't normally. However I have a candidate in this project. One that requires me here as supervisor, at least for the time being. Fafnir was slated for public reveal next year, but that's been delayed. Project Fated has more potential. Naturally he's not fallen ill, but some of the others are currently comatose. Their ongoing status is being monitored. If you're interested you can access their files from your Portal. All participants in Project Fated are expected to assist with the recuperating subjects.”

“I don't seem to remember that being a requirement.” Maddox felt a prickly tendril of suspicion crawl up his spine. Tattooing wasn't a skill that just anyone could pick up; it required years of practice and a certain innate talent that not everyone possessed. However, that didn't mean that he wanted the secrets of his work available for all these strangers to dissect. They might not be able to replicate his style, but as far as his recipes for ink….

Tiamat regarded him with a narrowed gaze. “If all you hope to achieve in your career is what is expected, then you chose an ill-suited career path. If not from kindness, then consider the value the experience will provide for your own candidate.”

Beastmaster will not fail—Maddox felt himself bristle. How dare she imply that his canvas was of somehow lesser quality! Still, this was an Overseer with a lot more clout than himself. He adjusted his voice to a less combative tone for a different approach. “I trust that the selection process was more careful after…the failures of these other subjects. The invitation did not imply the procedure was particularly high risk.”

“No, it didn't.” Tiamats voice dropped suddenly, gaining a sharper edge as if she were upset about this. “Try not to take my words as an insult. “If you want something done right then you have to do it yourself. Now, I have work to do.”

Tiamat turned as she was leaving. “If you decide to review the project details, you'll find the Observation Deck two floors above.” Tiamat turned towards the group of assistants at the computers. “Mattias! Show him the way.”

A short, brown-haired assistant that was clearly attempting to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping on the conversation looked up in surprise which flashed to a horrified expression before he managed to cover it up with a neutral expression. He broke away from the group, apparently unwilling to disobey a direct order.

Maddox looked down with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to disguise the displeasure in his own voice when he said, “I believe we've already met.”

​

The doors to the Observation Deck closed, and Maddox tried not to feel like a piece of himself had just been ripped away. There were other canvases that he could work on, but Beastmaster was the one which occupied his attention most. His current Muse. Inspiration was a powerful but fleeting thing, so he tried to avoid interrupting his creative flow as much as possible. And now it was getting well and truly complicated.

Maddox returned to his office. He could have returned to the waiting room after his visit to the Observation Deck, but hovering like he was the anxiously waiting next-of-kin only served to infuriate his temper.

It was therefore cathartic to have a turn at toying with one of the assistants after having suffered so because of them throughout the day. Mattias apparently belonged to Tiamat's crew, which meant that he had to be cautious. If he outright refused to comply, then he might wind up getting a notice for interfering with productivity or some other shit that meant filling out paperwork and watching company sponsored videos on maintaining a safe workplace environment. But if Mattias never asked then he wasn't obligated to do anything at all.

“How long was the procedure supposed to take?” Maddox interrupted what was probably the fifth attempt from Mattias to ask for his tablet back. There must have been something reasonably important stored on it, as the assistant didn't let up, even though it had required him to travel several floors out of his way.

However, whatever it was didn't outlay his duties to Tiamat. Mattias’ eyes widened. He gaped like a koi fish and then managed to stammer out a quick “Excuse me, I must be leaving Sir!” Maddox watched him turn and run the opposite way down the hall. There was a good chance that he wouldn't make it in time. Maddox had deliberately pressed all the buttons as he exited.

Alone at last, Maddox made his way back to familiar territory. When he finally entered his office, the first action he took was to lock the door securely. He'd well and truly had enough of people today—even petty revenge had lost its entertainment value.

His office had been restored to its previous condition, every document and instrument returned to its proper place so that no evidence of the raid remained. Maddox double and then triple checked the materials just to be sure. There wasn’t a clock in the room, so he wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was finally convinced that the room itself was in perfect order. He settled in the seat behind his desk, leaning back in his comfortable chair and steepled his fingers in thought.

Then, in one swift motion Maddox stood from his chair and swept everything off his desk; sending the papers flying and everything else crashing to the floor.

Residential Floor A

Pissed

N?A

coded by natasha.

 

[Abyss]

Sondor

Half-Light Angel

Sonny couldn’t sleep. You’d think it would be easy when all he has to do is close his eyes to immerse himself in a false-reality where the grass is always greener. Denied his usual escape, he paces within the confines of his small room. Then he spends nearly three hours taking apart everything that he can, searching for non-existent secret caches. Eventually he’s settled enough to be content playing solitaire with the one deck of cards that remains from his giant collection of board games. His inability to sleep boggles his mind until midnight nears and a familiar weight creeps into his shadow, growing more tangible as the darkest hour ticks closer.

Somewhere a clock strikes twelve signaling that the countdown is complete. No longer just a voice in his head urging him to impulsivity, Sonny's shadow takes on a life of its own. Spreading across the wall, it twists into a hunched over, many-limbed figure with long spikes growing from its back like an upturned ribcage. Sonny, cradling his head in his hands, tries to settle his racing thoughts. Dark’s arms wrap around him to hold him like you would a small, scared child. Or a fragile, broken thing.

The embrace is a parody of comfort. Sonny reaches over his shoulder to investigate a warm wetness that spreads across his shoulders and back. When he pulls his hand to his face, he finds that his fingers are covered in blood. Sonny looks up accusingly, at Dark. The entity has a skull of some sort for a face, with a crown of antlers like winter branches. Tusks on either side curl from the bottom of Dark’s jaw into its empty eye sockets. Sonny had to carefully avoid looking into the fathomless pits to focus on the single large eye that peered out from the third and only occupied socket in the middle of the entity’s forehead.

“It can't be helped, sorry.” Dark's multi-layered voice was somehow louder in person than in the confines of his head. The entity raised one of its limbs, parting the thick black fur that covers most of its body to reveal that there were thorns hidden beneath the layer of soft fur.

“You're feeding on me?”

Bone ground against bone; creaking under the strain of Dark forcing its own mouth ever so slightly to bend its jaws into a toothy grin. Dark let out a soft laugh. Its head tilted sideways. “Does this upset you?”

Sonny can't say he's surprised, really. His own emotions are so wrapped up in the other two that deep down he probably knew something like this was bound to happen. Still, he's curious. “I thought I was off limits.”

“On the contrary, you're all I have.” The arms around him tighten. The air smells like copper, but beneath that there is another scent. The smell of decaying soil, of rot. Dark is also cold. It's as if Sonny is being held somewhere underground. It would be claustrophobic, if Sonny didn't have faith that Dark needed him alive. If the creature could tolerate its sworn nemesis, then surely it wouldn't have reason to harm its only ally.

Dark's claws traced the patterns on his arms. The sight of it bothered him for some reason. Apprehension bubbled in the back of his mind, as Dark shamelessly stoked his fear. Now that the secret was out, it seemed Dark had a point to make. “You could always find other ways to feed me. Disobey. Riot. Make the others squirm in your place; sow seeds of chaos for me so that I might reap a meal from them instead. You would be good at it, I think.”

“First you say I'm all you have, now you say I'm not enough. Dearest, you wound me.”

“Nothing is. I was meant to consume entire worlds.”

“So, you'd never be full then.”

“No.”

“Would you destroy the world if you could?”

“No. I crave emotion. That requires something living, something feeling to feed from.”

“Is it just pain you're after?”

“No. I like fear best,” Dark replied. Then as if salivating at the thought, black ichor dripped from between its teeth. The smell of rot grew stronger.

“But that’s not all you need?”

“It's the most potent. Other emotions require more. Although variety is always welcome.” Dark gives him what must seem like an encouraging squeeze, except that it drives the thorns deeper into Sonny’s skin. The pain helps Sonny to break away from their current discussion. “I'm not your servant.”

On the periphery of his hearing, Sonny hears something howl, like a wolf. Victorious, it seems to say. Then a chill sweeps through the room. The shadows against all reason grow darker, and a rattling sound echoes around them. The thorns in his skin drive deeper. The pressure around him is painful, both from being squeezed too tightly and a pain that flares abruptly in his head.

“No,” Dark finally conceded. To Sonny's surprise, the entity didn’t sound upset. However, he wasn't so foolish to believe that it wouldn't use him given the chance. He understood that the two vied for his favor. They needed something from him. Maybe it was as simple as wanting to be fed, but his own gut told him that it went deeper than that. This was an area that Sonny didn't have enough expertise in. As far as he knew, his powers weren't meant to come with someone else attached. They'd tried to search for an explanation, but no one could understand where the process had gone wrong. Idly, Sonny wondered when he'd started lying to Belmont, because it occurred to him that he had no intention of revealing the true nature of his connection to Light and Dark. Practice, he'd told them. I need more practice to be in control.

“However, starving me hurts us both. You need my power, and for that we bargain. Feed me, and my power will grow. Use it however you'd like.”
“I'll not wither away if you don't, but this hunger is maddening. I tempered my appetite on you, but my patience is not endless. I must have a more substantial meal.”

“Either from me or someone else.” That sounded awfully close to a threat.

“Yes.”

“What do you want, exactly?”

Memories from the previous day played through Sonny's mind. They were all cherry-picked dramatic moments: Cetus in all his frustrated rage attempting to throw a chair, Verity curling inwards with apprehension and embarrassment, Mercury taking the center stage and exciting the crowd's attention. Many of them were their shared memories, but others were from Dark's beasties. Together they formed a collage of bright figures on an otherwise bleak landscape.

“Everything,” Darked hissed. The shadows around the room swayed, excitedly. Sonny tried to keep himself separate to avoid being swept up in the tide of desire that threatened to suffocate him. This kind of hunger was new and overwhelming. He instinctively distanced his mind away from its clutches. “Whatever they have to give, it’s mine.”

“They do not belong to us,” Sonny said in order to remind Dark of their invisible leash. We have to be very careful. We're a failed experiment, remember? As soon as we become more trouble than we’re worth, they'll dispose of us. It was painful to admit, but also an essential truth that Sonny himself could not afford to forget.

Denial. Anger. Hurt. All manner of emotions surged from Dark's corner. All of them sharpened and pointed in Sonny's direction as if by asking for restraint he had committed some heinous act of betrayal. This too was something that he had learned to predict. Dark was prone to theatrics, but the creature found the lack of a reaction boring. Sonny could weather the storm if he ignored it.

All the more reason to make us stronger.

If they want a weapon, we’ll show them power.

We’ll strike fear into their hearts. Make them so afraid they wouldn’t dare seek out confrontation with us.

Like a dog with bone, Dark gnawed at Sonny’s mind, trying to find something he could use to tempt him into reconsidering. Sonny waited, keeping his attention on the cards in front of him. He'd played Solitaire enough that the cards flowed into place without needing too much focus anyways. He was halfway through the deck, when one of Dark's hands struck out to swipe through the careful arrangement; scattering cards across the bed and sending a few flying off the edge.

It wasn't enough to actually piss him off, but it had surprised him and his irritation seemed to please Dark somewhat, which did ruffle his feathers just a bit even if the more rational part of him sighed because that kind of thing was only to be expected. “Childish.”

“So?” Dark laughed for a second time. A sound somewhere between a hack and a wheeze.

“Poor sportsmanship is unseemly.”

“Bullshit.”

Sonny scoffed, but he could only pretend to be offended for a few seconds before his scowl transformed into a smile. It amused him, because it was true. Sonny and Dark played plenty of games and both of them agreed that breaking the rules without getting caught could be just as fun, if not more so, when your opponent was equally clever.

Dark didn’t speak again for some time. Feeling that his companion’s mood had changed, Sonny looked up to find the entity’s singular eye looking down at him with keen focus. Sonny attempted to keep his focus on the eye, but he could feel a strong pull to look down into the empty sockets below it. In the peripheral of his vision he could still see them; the two voids that should be empty, but which aren't. There was something from within that called out to him, but Sonny knew that if he let his gaze slip, the abyss would swallow him entirely. A hand reached out to cover his eyes, and a lesser darkness swallowed his vision instead. This too was a sort of game they sometimes played, one that Sonny always loses.

“What happens if I look?”

“I don’t know. Restraint is not a part of my nature, but I'm trying very hard not to break you.”

“You seem to be struggling more than usual, then.”

“There is more to you than flesh and blood. The body heals. The mind is more delicate by far.”

“You seem to have made a home in mine.” This doesn't bother Sonny. He has no memories of what existence was like before the operation, of what it felt like to be alone. He's curious about his past, but he can truthfully say that isolation doesn't appeal to him. Not even when this particular roommate sometimes threatens to be more trouble than they're worth. “What would happen if I tried to go in yours?”

“You'd be lost.” Dark says it matter-of-fact, but for some reason Sonny feels doubtful about that. He manages to get around Dream City just fine and he's never found an end to it just yet. The world itself is huge. There are places he could never go, like the bottom of the ocean. What's so wrong with that?

“It is not the same,” Dark says as if it had overheard his thoughts, and perhaps it has. “As you are, you cannot understand, even if I were to show you. You could say that prior to our merged existence, we were stretched very thinly. You've changed us. Condensed our being. We are more than we have been in a long time. Still, our minds will always be different from yours."
“My counterpart does not embrace change. I don’t think they've come to terms with it yet. I can feel their discord.” A rumble echoes around them. A purr dancing on the edge of Sonny’s hearing. “It makes for such a delightful treat. Even in our simplest state of being, it is our nature to oppose one another.”
“That we have suffered the same fate may well drive them mad too.” Dark's single eye rolled rapidly, as if it were barely contained.
Sonny pondered that for a moment while he plucked the cards scattered across his bed. “Does the change scare you?”
Sonny felt rather than saw Dark's eye refocus on him. The creaking smile returned. “What do you think?”
Sonny thought he already knew the answer, but he could sense Dark’s interest in the conversation was already waning, its attention as fickle as ever. Somewhere a clock struck again to signal the end of the hour.

Dark’s form retreated back into Sonny’s shadow. His absence from the room left it brighter and more colorful as the colors that had fled previously slowly returned to chase away the lingering greys. The shift in atmosphere is such that Sonny feels as if a physical weight has been removed. Well, maybe not removed. Something curls neatly inside his head, like a cat settling into a box for a nap.

Not quite alone again, Sonny set to fetching the rest of the scattered cards. Sonny plucked another three: Six of Spades, Three of Hearts, King of Spades. He joined each card with the rest of the deck. Then he pulled a fourth and final card from the floor. He paused for a moment to stare at the upside down clown, whose lips were pulled back to reveal his teeth. Jokers weren’t needed in solitaire, or most games in fact. As a result it should have been spared Dark’s tantrum.
Sonny eyed the Joker card with a vague sort of weariness. He couldn't quite tell if the figure was smiling or sneering; one might even argue that from this angle he was frowning. “I don’t think it matters, one way or another.”

̶̨̙̲͙̅̒̉͘ ̵̡̰̙̩̻̦͔̲̤̉̂̒̕ ̷̜͖̙̞̰̳͎̹̯͓̤̞̗̄͂̍̓̌̋ ̴͍̺̣͍̪͛́́̈́͛͌̏̓̅̿͠ ̴̡̨̛͈͙͍̖̟̭͛̎̀̀͜͝ͅ ̷̨̛̭͖͓̜̱̰͕̹̙̺͇́̍̈́ ̸͈̖́̇͊̍̂͌̐͒̽ ̴̭̼̺̥͕̱̼͚͔̹̝̜̓̊͑͆̾͜ ̴̧̳̰̰̦̫̳̲͋͜͜​

Sonny found himself unpleasantly forced back into the real world by the sound of an alarm. He'd spent most of the night bar-hopping and taste-testing at various street-side vendors, pleased that for the most part the food had been tasty and the people talkative. It’s put him in a good mood and he’s determined to keep it that way. He doesn’t want to dwell on the events of midnight, even though his head is still hurting. There were no marks on his skin from where the thorns had pierced through his flesh—just the usual golden stripes—and no blood staining the sheets as proof that any real harm had occurred. He’s not actually sure if Dark can really hurt him. He thinks it was probably real, because as far as he knows he isn’t capable of dreaming anymore. Still, it’s hard to tell illusion from reality. Then again, as long as it seemed real enough to him then maybe it doesn’t matter. His existence is proof that there are forces at work beyond what ‘is known.’ Who's he to say two things can't be true at once?

There was a tablet in his room, with the screen illuminated. He checked it. The time was 5:00am and there was a notification for New Assignment: ESCORT MISSION. Curiosity peaked, Sonny opened the file. The document outlined a modified map of the training room, a description of the exercise and a list of all the subjects he was supposedly in charge of managing from the inside. There wasn’t much information on them, which Sonny found moderately frustrating. The Seekers had all the details on their subjects, so maybe this was a challenge that he was supposed to figure out on his own. He also noticed, with a feeling of unease, that there seemed to be subjects missing from the list. He didn’t see the girl with the short black hair, the ANGEL, or the walking botanical garden.

Whatever the case, he would figure it out later. Low and behold, it seemed that as a ‘Trainer’ he was meant to actually aid in whatever activities the Seeker's assigned and not simply serve as an extra set of eyes and ears with an honorary title. He thought maybe that this kind of thing should have been below his pay grade, but having work was a welcome distraction. Besides, if Dark was really starting to get antsy and pent up, then the timing was perfect. An obstacle course should be able to provide plenty of opportunities to feed its appetite for emotions. “You feeling hungry, dear?”

“Always.”

“Well, let’s get cooking.”

̶̨̙̲͙̅̒̉͘ ̵̡̰̙̩̻̦͔̲̤̉̂̒̕ ̷̜͖̙̞̰̳͎̹̯͓̤̞̗̄͂̍̓̌̋ ̴͍̺̣͍̪͛́́̈́͛͌̏̓̅̿͠ ̴̡̨̛͈͙͍̖̟̭͛̎̀̀͜͝ͅ ̷̨̛̭͖͓̜̱̰͕̹̙̺͇́̍̈́ ̸͈̖́̇͊̍̂͌̐͒̽ ̴̭̼̺̥͕̱̼͚͔̹̝̜̓̊͑͆̾͜ ̴̧̳̰̰̦̫̳̲͋͜͜​

“This is not what I had in mind,” Dark growled.

Sonny suspected that the behemoth was some sort of coffee machine, but apparently Barista wasn't on his resume, because he didn't know how to operate it. Sonny eyed the various handles as if they might bite him if he tried pulling the wrong one.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Dark sounded genuinely curious. That was usually Sonny's clue to stop unless he was prepared to deal with whatever fallout came next. “You know, I don’t really want to find out. The chef seems like a rather serious fellow and if there's one person you don't mess with, it's the person who makes your food.”

“Wise decision.” Sonny felt a small, unexpected wave of relief. Light hadn’t spoken since their connection returned after midnight. It wasn't unusual for the entity to be silent for long periods, so maybe his concern was just a side effect of his guilt. Colluding with Dark was necessary, and not just because he didn't want to be both the residence and meal-ticket for a supernatural entity whose preferred flavor was fear. Sonny didn't do threats. He found his way out of them, like he'd managed to maintain the peace between the two of them so far. No, his problem was going to be convincing Light that this decision was going to benefit all three of them. “I'm full of good advice. That's why I get to be a trainer.”

“Now, let's see what we can do.” Sonny looked through the fridge. Eggs seemed safe. He was pretty sure he could get those right. He just needed to find a pan and get cracking, so he started to carefully open and close various cabinets in search of something that looked familiar.

[Hello, Sondor.]

If Sonny wasn’t accustomed to voices popping out of thin air, he probably would have jumped out of his skin. “Good morning, Dolly. Pleasant night in the matrix, I hope.”

[I know you've read through the documents sent to your device. Do you have questions about your assignment?]

“Straight to business today, are we? The instructions were vague enough. The training room seemed quite empty, where am I supposed to be getting the materials to set things up?”

[The materials have been prepared for you. You'll find them when you join us. We've already started on the rearrangements.]

“We?”

[The replacement for Mercury arrived last night. The poor darling wasn't feeling well, so he was sent home early.]

“The others who weren't listed. Were they also ‘sent home?’”

[Yes. ]

“Expected to fully recover?”

[Of course. It's only a stomach bug, silly. Besides, they have the very best doctors taking care of them.]

“Of course,” Sonny agreed carefully. He suspected of course that whatever had really happened to them, it was more complicated than a ‘stomach bug.’

“About the replacements. They weren't in the files sent to me. Would you fill me in on their details, please.”

[It's not polite to gossip, you know. You'll just have to ask them yourself, but don't fret. You'll meet them soon, darling. Come along.]

Sonny blinked. Was it his imagination or could he feel something radiating from Light’s normally stable connection? What's so amusing, love?

“Finally, someone who appreciates a little order around here.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Hush, Sonny chided. Then he sighed. Breakfast it seemed, was off the table. Like an obedient little Seeker's pet, he'd just have to grin and bear it until he figured out what they wanted from this experiment. “Alright, dollface. Lead the way.”

Multiple Locations

Wary/Curious

White Uniform

N?A

coded by natasha.