Welcome to Gaia! ::

(indeed it does)

Cell 6 was a huge room. A glass with an odd electric purple tinge bordered the upper corner of the room, allowing observers to see from a control room. Mechanical arms hung from the ceiling, some equipped with objects of torture, others held even more sinister-looking tools. There was a slab in the middle of the room, metal clamps with a blueish tinge to them for wrists, ankles, midsection, and neck were all in place. On this slap they placed Miroku, a mechanical arm injecting a drug to wake her up. Around the room, scientists with automatic pistols worked on analysis machines, and one worked on a speaker-box to the observation and control room above.

The great Morris Evelson, mastermind of the protectorate known as "The Manager," looked down at Miroku. She'd be the first outsider to ever see the man, and Morris was going to try to make her the last.



Beacon was a bit more successful at escape, this being her twenty-seventh time of being trapped in such a facility... most of them were predictable. she'd follow the lines painted on the floors to lead people along. Red was medical, green was military, blue-gray maintainance, orange was civilian, and yellow was management. naturally, she followed the green lines, since yellow meant more guards, blue-gray meant squad patrols, red meant inspections, and orange meant full searches and possible interrogation. Green only existed for rookies to not get lost, leading from residences, to cafeteria, restrooms, and elevators, often passing facility maps. Following that, she'd only face unsure and panicky guards until she reached hot areas like the elevators. It had taken her ten different tries to figure out this setup, but once she did, she never got lost in these Protectorate bases. (you may want to take notes on these... all protectorate facilities have them.)

Morris laughed. "My dear, that cell was made to hold any Protector of Truth. You can't escape with the powers you possess. Now, I'd like it very much if you were to talk with me." The man's voice was smooth, cultured. the man himself sipped his wine in the viewing station. One of the mechanical arms twisted around Miroku, an electric stream going between the prongs.

"Go on, speak, otherwise you'll find being silent a tad more shocking... and not in that tongue, for I require English."

Morris laughed quietly.
"now I'm going to make this simple, my dear. I ask you a question, you answer, then you get to ask one. then back and forth and so on. understand? good. Now, my question is, where are you from?" Morris replied with a grin, as a syringe on a mechanical arm aligned itself with the taser on her other side.

(oh yes. Morris loves puns...)

Morris grinned. "And now, my dear, it is your turn for a question... and don't worry, that's only truth serum... In case I have reason to doubt your word..."

"I, my dear, am the Manager of the Protectorate, above the Secretary, below the Vice President. I run the a few corporations on this island, namely food and the wine industry are controlled by yours truly." He smiled slightly, "My influence makes me quite valuable, but not so much as the President... but I'm technically the one in charge of everything." He cleared his throat, "Now for my question, Where is this... Union City?"

Morris grinned, "Now I don't believe you. If there was a dome around us, we'd see it. when we go outside we see clouds and sky. our ships go for days before they hit the impassible storms. are you telling me that there's a city beyond all that? bull. It's endless ocean. Inject her with the serum."
The arm with the syringe buried it's needle into Miroku, then discharged the fluid.

"You foolish girl, of course we've tried to see past the storms. we succeeded. only ocean, my girl. Enchanted you say! Hah! that's like saying that magic is real, or some kind of extremely advanced technology that disobeys the laws of science! there is nothing of the sort!" Morris announced, "Now, tell me whom you're working for and their goal. Let's hear yours while you're at it."

The tone of the room had changed. It was darker. the scientists and guards seemed like puppets, and this man, the manager, seemed to be the puppeteer, his control room the source of light.

"that machine above you... It's what we use for brainwashing. lots of subliminal messaging and mental reprogramming is built into it's systems. The result is a loyal protectorate soldier who never asks questions. some would call it inhumane or diabolical... I call it a profitable investment." The manager flashed a wicked grin, one even Xerelose would be hard to match.