Kassandra
Member
Peak City. The unofficial capital of Discovery, often referred to as the 'urban model of the future' by its more pretentious design contributors, but who could blame them, really? A marvel of city planning, sustainable living, multicultural community, and understated luxury, dead-center in a biodiverse island? One would surely be forgiven for believing their plane ride had transported them across the pacific, as well as a century into the future upon their arrival. Truly, the 2030s seemed to cease at the Island's shores. But whom did humanity have to thank for this modern utopia? Whose vision took the form of an island nation led by order and intellect? Why, Dr. Lucius Indigo, of course, the figurehead of Indigo Sciences. Eccentric as his emergence into the science scene was, never at any point in his career could anyone doubt his brilliance.
Humble beginnings in the field of pharmacological sciences took him toward the development of orally-boosted flu vaccines. Branching out into biology, his contributions to genetic marking made detecting and eliminating inherited diseases a triviality. Every field he ventured out into, Dr. Indigo was a superstar in. And yet, Discovery was his pet project. Compared to his numerous achievements, the purchase and planning of an island nation were relatively simple. And yet, as natives and brilliant minds from all over the world poured into the Peak, Dr. Indigo's primary office building, it was abundantly clear that this was his magnum opus. Even the party he was holding was an involved affair, with everyone in black-tie and supplied with fresh food sourced entirely from the island, all of which came from his newly installed agricultural centers. Anyone who caught a glimpse of the doctor during the event saw him wracked with passion and close to tears, and every time, he explained it was due to his excitement in preparation for the apex of the evening's proceedings. 'Midnight' was the only hint he'd give, but as the clock neared twelve, Indigo was nowhere to be seen. The excitement had reached the point that half of those in attendance were counting down the seconds with their phones, like a mini New Years Eve. They even finished it off with a cheer. Then the gas came.
Where it seeped out of, nobody knows. It seemed to just replace the air, from some survivors' perspectives. Only a handful of the hundreds of thousands on the island managed to escape, all while Dr. Indigo was missing. Natural assumptions were made. The truth was something different, of course, but by sunrise, many minds were already made up. They'd walked into a trap only a genius could have designed.
When Dr. Indigo roused, his hands bound and his mouth taped over, he recognized immediately the gas coming in through the vents of his private bathroom. There was no chance at escaping it, so he took a deep breath. Cinnamon. Just like he'd theorized all those years ago. The gas was scented, and for good reason. If you were lucid enough to recognize the smell, you were immune, like he was. It was too bad there were only seven people vaccinated against It in the whole world. He eventually chewed his way out of his restraints and escaped to the roof of the building. The sky was a noxious orange, and the streets he designed himself were washed with blood. His worst fears had been realized. His private helicopter provided a means for escape, but upon finding a village of natives and rattled survivors, he was met with hostility, forcing him to retreat to a nearby medical facility he'd secretly installed underground, one of many hidden services he'd planned on announcing at later dates. From there, he spent his time attempting to recreate the vaccine he'd administered to himself so many years ago, and monitored the situation in the infection zones in what little off time he allowed himself. It was this way he came across the anomalies. Exhibitors of behaviors and unnatural abilities undoubtedly caused by the gas, but unforeseeable even to its original creator. His directives shifted, as he knew he had to warn others of the mutants roaming the island. Indigo was a day away from embarking on an expedition towards the village that had driven him off, when the island's observational border sensors detected several large figures underwater, approaching shore. Soldiers in protective gear began traipsing all over the island, scavenging crucial data and experimental prototypes from labs. Not only that, but the mutants seemed to have peaked their interest as well, with their orders seemingly shifting towards 'detain and capture' rather than 'kill on sight.'
Indigo managed to intercept radio signals between the submarines, and with them, plans to help them recover from the gas for 'repurposing.' And if a couple of geneticists under the ocean could do it, he knew he could, too. Even with his lack of training, the doctor managed to capture eight individuals that had mutant characteristics. Subdued and unconscious, he began flushing their systems, and found that their partial immunity had become complete. Once again, he had a new goal. The Island's technology was meant to be shared with the world, not hoarded by a shadowy organization with its creators silenced. His only hope to fulfill this mission, however, laid in the mutants. He hoped that once they regained consciousness, they were lucid once more.
β’β’β’
Dr. Indigo stepped out from the supply closet in full hazmat gear. The projection chart he had in his makeshift office insisted today was the optimal, earliest day he could induce consciousness in his subjects. And although he was undeniably afraid of how they might react, he had no chance against the soldiers on his own. He reminded himself this was always inevitable one last time before taking his station by master control panel at the furthest end of the observation room. The room with eight beds occupied by unfortunate individuals cursed with extraordinary, freakish power.
With the push of a button, a stimulating shock to their altered nervous systems roused them from their induced sleep. Anxiously, he moved from bed to bed, removing from them whatever medical equipment was hooked up into their bodies. He managed to do so before they were awake enough to notice with time to spare, even after administering little Hello Kitty bandaids wherever needles previously were. Dr. Indigo promptly took a few steps back to watch his work come to fruition. "Victor Frankenstein has nothing on me... God, that's not really a good thing, is it?"
Da Babbies:
Kyon
sox
-ferret-
anderswo
Juju
ave goin insane
seasonedcat
