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 Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2009 11:26 am
Deuce had followed the Lab Assistant without so much as a question about it. As usual, anyone in AVALANCHE was to be followed without a moment's hesitation. The mechanical Raven had never been one the scientists spoke to much, but it was hard not to guess what they though: he was just an interesting science project. However, while walking there, he couldn't help but feel just a little bad again for the pair he had captured...He very much so wished he hadn't had anything to do with it at all, but now here he was, being ordered to help hurt them again.
Without so much as a word in response to the command, Deuce entered once he was allowed. He walked into the dim room, and looked around, finding the target he sought crouched in the corner.
When the gasses started, suddenly Arina realized she was shaking, burning, coughing...she could tell it was something in the air again that was making her hurt...But she couldn't just not breathe. With every intake of what was apparently not air alone, waves of pain overwhelmed her limbs and chest. She bit down on her lip, trying to block one pain with another, only to draw blood and find no relief.
She could feel her muscles tensing...They wanted to change into something that could get her out of there...It felt like they were trying for the first form...But with a wolf's sense of smell, and those huge lungs to fill, she knew she couldn't let that happen; that would only make her situation worse...Not to mention that she had heard the second door slide into place...she couldn't force her way out of this one...and if they were using a gas, they must have sealed off every other opening to the room, meaning no cracks for the second form to slip through...
Her head was spinning, throbbing...The woman felt herself tip over from the wall she had been leaning on, hitting the ground with a dull 'thud!'. She lay there in pain, trying to think of some way out of this, but all her mind could process was that it hurt...She glanced over, noticing one of her hands twitching...whether she was just writhing in agony and didn't know it, if there was something in the gas causing the reaction, or if her body still wanted to limit break, she couldn't tell. But instead of waiting to find out, she crawled over to the corner curling up on her side with her back to the door, hiding her head into her pulled up knees, as if trying to keep the gas away from her. No matter what she tried in this part of their processes, Arina knew she was stuck...If she could keep it together long enough, though, she might be given an opportunity later...That was what she told herself.
Deuce for a moment thought he might have felt guilty when he saw her, before he remembered he didn't feel guilt..Which, confused him very much...Why shouldn't he feel guilt? This didn't seem right...He shook his head to clear the thoughts...He had been given orders. He walked quietly over to where the ex-Turk lay, and crouched down to pick her up.
She yelped, just a bit, when he touched her. Every sensation she experienced was trying to force its way into her brain all at once, when there was simply no room for her to think alongside all that pain. Her head was pounding, almost as though she was being physically struck. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out as much of that which she could avoid taking in as she could.
Deuce gently lifted her off the floor, and carried her out of the cell. He paused a moment in front of Trellon, waiting for more instructions.
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2009 12:33 pm
Her nervous system had been sent into overdrive, attuned far greater to outside sources and senses that each noise, taste, sound, touch, and sight was amplified to the point of being physically painful. Although, as many psychologists who had worked with him in previous years had noted, much of the ‘pain’ he claimed to cause was merely results of mental confusion that he enacted. ‘Ah, but what was more important’, he had asked. ‘To fail, or to succeed?’ ‘By any means necessary, such success is always tainted!’ they had said. To which he had responded with but a smile and swift removal of himself from their presence. If men knew not how to garner results, then they were men concerned with ethics and morality. And ethics and morality, Trellon knew, were inebriating. And such, he could not allow for himself to fall into.
How strange would it have been then, had he been to compare his inner thoughts with such a mechanism as that which solemnly and swiftly carried out his precise directions. For one was more the machine than the other, and what response was this? That the answer to such was a surprise and absolute impossibility. But of such things, all was mere distraction, and by such, he could not be withheld. Trellon had, indeed, a purpose to his actions.
So swiftly he turned away before even he noted that the systems were smoothly retreating in the room he had turned into a tool to use upon this innocent, contaminated and potential-refusing. Without a word, expecting the catering Raven to follow behind him, he passed back out from the captives’ cells, through the main lab, and down a lengthy hallway, this one well lit, unlike the others, until he reached a room six doors down the lengthy passage. This was the next to last room, and as he opened the door, he crisply uttered, “Bring her inside,” without offering an explanation.
The room Deuce was to enter with the toxic specimen was far larger on the inside than it at first appeared. What gave it this appearance, however, was the stark whiteness of every wall, floor and ceiling. Perfectly symmetrical, it was a glossy white that seemed perfect in every respect, no hairline crack or imperfection visible anywhere. It was, and was meant to be, an ominous room.
After the Raven had moved within the room, Trellon closed the door behind him, listening as a heavy collection of steel bolts hissed and slipped shut, effectively locking the two inside. Trellon moved into another door set adjacent the room, the last door in the lengthy hallway, and stepped inside an overbearing, highly developed technological control room. Silently he sat down in the single chair and his fingers verily flew over the huge array of buttons, strangely modeled keyboards with foreign characters and layouts, each there for a reason, each geared towards a specific task.
Silently then, shockingly, a hiss broke out from the center of the room, and herein a long white arm of some unknown elbowed mechanism rose from the floor, pulling with it it’s other half from the wall opposite where Trellon sat in the white room’s control unit. As it rose, slowly it unfolded, until it rose to about four feet in height and halted while another pair of arms stretched out, forming a white cross, suspended in midair expectantly.
“Set her down on it,” ordered Trellon, his voice carrying through a microphone and into the room. “Ankles on the round half-moon slots at the bottom, spine aligned with the main bar, and arms out as far as possible on the one perpendicular to the first. It’ll adjust accordingly to her. When you’ve done that and she’s been locked into place, I’ll open the door for you and you can come join me in the control room.”
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2009 12:51 pm
Deuce had followed Trellon down the hallway quietly, without much thought at all, hoping to be dismissed quickly...he didn't want to see what was going to happen...He had some vague idea from the conversations of the others who worked in the lab, but even what little he had heard was more than he wanted to know. He didn't understand why these two, these Turks, were being intentionally put through far more than the other Ravens had...It confused him greatly.
He walked into the ominous room, not liking it from the instant he set foot inside...Deuce patiently waited as the other went to set things up, and finally expand the restraints. The Raven nodded as he was given more instructions, and walked over to it, slipping her ankles into the cressents...They were thin...He couldn't help but notice that both she and A233 had seemed thinner every time he managed to catch even the briefest glance of either of them...This made him sure.
Deuce leaned the rest of her gently against the beams, as he had been told to, but she kept trying to pull her arms back to her body...She seemed like she thought that would help...
Arina did, in fact, think that would help her...The tighter she pulled her arms around her chest, the less she hurt...but then she just would have to let go, to try and breathe. It didn't take very long for her to stop trying to keep her arms wrapped about her though; within a minute, she couldn't keep doing it anymore...every movement she made only made the pain worse.
it felt like her nerves were on fire...She could almost hear a buzzing as though from a literal searing coming from the horrid sensation. The ex-Turk clenched down her teeth, not wanting to scream out like she felt she needed to...If she did that, she would have been giving up...and she was not going to give up. She wouldn't yell...No matter how much she thought it would help.
'i need to think of something else...anything else...anything else!'Arina told herself, but she couldn't...every second she spent trying to think was coated by a film of excruciation, leaving any other idea simply unthought.
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2009 1:58 pm
A tempered frown, and Trellon tapped in several timed instructions before rising silently, arriving at the door to the experimentation room without bothering to notify the Raven. It seemed the being was actually concerned with the specimen’s antics. How quaint. As the door hissed open, he walked briskly to the center of the room, stepping around the inadequate Raven without saying a word at first.
Silently he grasped both her wrists with his gloved hands, and at once the enigmatic purpose of the gloves he wore came into explanation. Immediately thousands of miniscule, hair-like needles pierced the flesh of the specimen, numbing and inhibiting the use of her hands and lower arm within a matter of a few seconds. “Step away,” he dictated as the bars he held her arms upon steadily shifted in length appropriate to her bodily structure. The entire time, Trellon had silently been counting, making sure not to hold on to the woman for any longer than he needed to.
89… 90.
He released her as the machine seemed to grow, small features opening up right below the specimen’s wrists until they latched firmly around them, tightening irrevocably for the time being, so that she would not be able to move her arms if she tried. He proceeded swiftly to the feet then, stripping her of her boots and socks and clutching her ankles. “Hold her legs for me,” he commanded. The last thing he wanted was a kick in the face because his injections didn’t work quite quickly enough.
This time, upon the count of 30 the machine began to expand and he released her, ordering the Raven to continue to hold her into place until her ankles were not merely latched down, but drawn tightly together, so that her position was uncomfortable at best. “Come with me,” he ordered once more and swiftly departed from the room, once more locking it when Deuce had exited with him. “You’ll stay with me until this process has been completed,” Trellon coolly informed the Raven as he walked back into the other room, shutting the door after the both of them and taking his previous seat, immediately keying out several other instructions. He would keep the gloves on for the time being. They could still be necessary after the removal of the specimen from his experimentation room.
It was then that the machine truly began to come to life, four more evolutions occurring as additional latches made their way across the specimen’s chest and belly, holding her as immobile as possible. They would, throughout the process, gauge the various vitals of the specimen, in addition to measuring the amount of force she exerted on her restraints. However, that was far from the most important portion of this experiment. The entire purpose, was to force her to limit break beyond what she had so far given them. It was an order from the highest up in the organization, and Trellon would be more than happy to have the pleasure of presenting him with his success in that very operation.
It was ethereal, in a way, the manner in which the machine hissed, putting out its own delightful crooning as it rose, until the specimen was raised higher off the ground towards the ceiling, from which another arm slowly moved until it had essentially hooked up to the back of the main ‘beam’ upon which she rested. Then another moved out from above the first in the wall, this one thicker and creating an elusive, grating, high-pitched sound that would destroy the ears of the more sensitive, just like those of the newly intoxicated specimen. Pain could be garnered in many manners. But what Trellon had learned from countless experiments, was that in order to achieve control over a being, one needed to go right to the source of free will, and alter it… permanently, if possible.
It was not in one of such arms that there was a hidden animosity, for they all served a purpose, just as sound too high for the human ear to hear was fed into the room, piercing the specimen far more painfully than could any blade, so they moved swiftly into action. The arm from the floor broke apart from the main beam, which was now completely suspended from the one above. Once more the floor was perfect, the arm from the wall moving until it latched onto the back of the beam she was strapped to. Immediately the inanimate beam came to life, a new, incessant hum of infinitesimal and utterly complex mechanisms bursting into activity.
Without any warning—she was skewered, a line of hundreds of hair’s width needles piercing her spine, all the way down to her tailbone, up the back of her neck, her mane of hair no more noticed than the obscenely bright light blinding her was noted by the unseeing machine. This, was the Second Infiltration. The first always manifested itself with particularly catered lighting and noises that would sooner rip apart her brain than she’d allow them to. This method of instigating excruciating pain and possible, complete paralysis, however, was a defensive mechanism, to ensure the long life of the four-staged Infiltration technique.
A cool light played across Trellon’s eyes as he waited for her reaction. If such excruciating pain would not encourage her to limit break, revealing her third form in its totality, then he would activate the Third Infiltration. As it was, blood was already seeping through the back of her shirt, down the glistening white arms of his machine, dirtying the floor. But there had been far worse messes in that room. He would get some mindless Raven to tidy it up afterwards.
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Posted: Fri Feb 20, 2009 5:25 pm
What...What was going on? Suddenly Arina couldn't even flex her fingertips...This time, it wasn't because she was too overwhelmed, but because she couldn't feel them...Ever since he touched her with those gloves..."What....?"she winced after only the first word of her question...She couldn't go long enough without being distracted by the pain radiating throughout her to actually finish it...And then her wrists were suddenly strapped down in place...
Another wave of pain shot through her, and before Arina really knew what was going on, both the weird Lab Assistant and that Raven who had been in the room were now gone...What had just happened?...Did she black out?...That was the only logical explanation she could come up with...That as when she realized she was in a completely different position from before...and, significantly more restrained. How long had she been unaware? What had been going on in the meantime?
Once more she felt a surge of anguish. What in the hell had they done to her? She started to feel something besides the pain...Anger. She was angry. More than she had been in a while...A thought popped into her head, 'Just who the ******** do these bastards think they are!?' It vanished as quickly as it had come, but the ex-Turk knew what that meant. No, no, no. That was what they wanted...Arina couldn't let herself limit break now...No. She was going to keep it hid...
Her eyes widened. Suddenly there was a sound radiating throughout the room...loud...it was so loud! She wanted to cover her ears, but couldn't get her hands free. "S....Stop it! Turn it off!"she yelled, finally letting herself scream something. Her ears were ringing...It felt like her head was going to burst.
She was about to shout again when suddenly her pain almost doubled...dozens...hundreds of things...needles, skewers, something, were stabbing into her back...up and down her spine...She could feel the hot crimson spilling out of her...and it made her...hungry.
Arina could feel it...Hunger...Overwhelming hunger...the more she hurt, the more hungry she became...Even her teeth were starting to hurt!...Wait. That, she had felt before...Some of them were elongating...Sharpening...Turning to fangs...She tried to stop it, but her limit was pissed, and starving...She knew she wouldn't be able to hold it off for much longer.
She felt the gold band melting into her arm again...it was so familliar a feeling, she couldn't help but be just a little comforted by it, even through the agony she was experiencing...Arina had always known they wouldn't dare risk taking it off; it was the only thing keeping her from jumping to her limits without any kind of control...but the way she was, it wasn't going to do anything but become a weapon for her limit.
The next thing Arina knew, she had her gold and silver rapier in her hand...but she couldn't hold onto it. Her fingers wouldn't move to close around it...she couldn't wiggle her fingers or toes...something was even more wrong than just the pain...but for the moment, she didn't have time to worry about that...The woman knew it was coming...her senses were getting sharper...her vision was more clear...and that damnable sound was only getting louder...louder and louder!
That was the moment she changed...Suddenly she shifted forms, into the full third limit break...Her injuries healed, including the wounds from the needles...however, since they were still stuck in her at the time, her body forced them out and back down into the machine. "Let me up...Let me up I said!"she growled through glistening white fangs, struggling to move....somehow, she was actually managing to stress the restraints on her wrists and ankles...The bonds on her wrists started to creak under the pressure as she fought them.
Deuce had been following Trellon's every instruction to a tee, including holding her ankles down at his request...He didn't want to, though...He wanted to at the very least take her back to her cell...Hadn't they already done enough? However, when Trellon beckoned him to follow out of the room, he did, remembering to stay at least one stride behind the AVALANCHE member.
Upon being informed he would be remaining with the Lab Assistant, all he needed to say in response was, "Confirmed." ...after all, people normally seemed to prefer it when he didn't speak much...As he watched Trellon, he started hearing the noise... it seemed something like a dog whistle...it was coming from the room with Turk B238...If he could hear it from the control room, it must have been awful for her.
Finally, he saw her starting to change...He let out a little sigh of relief. That meant she'd be returned soon...That soon she would be able to stop suffering...Deuce didn't know at this point just who he felt worse for, Arina or Reno...He had heard that Hyou had been assigned to the other Turk...between that man and Trellon, he wasn't particularly sure who would give the captives more to suffer from.
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2009 9:47 pm
Reno  Reno had, somehow, managed to fall asleep. Even after all he had just gone through, after all the pain he was still currently in... But he had lost too much blood already, it was only natural that he became tired and even more weak. He needed water, he needed food. He didn't care. Plain bread, green slob, he wouldn't have given a flying ********. He needed to regain his strength. He felt like dying. But being here, he always felt like dying, despite his will to live. Even in his dreams, Reno felt like there was little reason to go on living, but he still, for some reason, kept on. Why? Because it was his job to stay alive? Who ******** cared about his job now? What job? Shin-Ra was over and done with and had been that way for quite a long time now.
But he wanted to live. He wasn't afraid of death, he would just rather live. How hard was that? But his will to live wasn't like Arina's; it wasn't stubborn and stupid and filled with optimistic fantasies. Oh, his will was stubborn, but it was also realistic. He knew that no one was going to come and rescue him; why would anyone? And how could they? If they hadn't already, they must have assumed him dead by now. No... There was just a sick, ******** up part of him that wanted to see just what they were going to really do to him. And to see if there really was a little spoon to dig his way out of this prison. And if all else failed and there really was nothing he could do but become a Raven or die, then ********! At least he could give these stupid bastards a hard time! As sick as they were, as sick as he was... What difference did it make?
Still, even in his sleep he was restless and sickly. He was lucky enough to not remember most of his dreams, but the ones he did were all hellish nightmares and occurrences of his time here. He had already hurt himself plenty with his dreams of falling, then jerking his body upward in real time because he was about to hit the rock bottom. What always made things worse was when he would wake up and realize he had forgotten even more than he had before he'd gone to sleep. It was like the sleep was sucking his past life away. But that was ridiculous. It must have been something else they had done to him, something he couldn't remember.
But there he lay, sleeping, still on the cold stone floor. His blood had dried onto the concrete several feet from where he lie. He could not hear Arina. When he woke up, he probably would have forgotten about her again.I'm in the same prison as you... 
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 1:54 pm
Accomplishments are transient._____________________________
They pulled me in unremittingly_________________________________________ ______________My mind's not a well;
_____________________It won't run dry  Click .. Click .. Click
Echoes rang clear through the vacant laboratory halls. Though, many would presume the halls to be much of an overbearing white, those people would be sorely mistaken. These halls were indeed white, only they seemingly were accentuated with a lovely shade of dry crimson. The design was much like that of the blood that stained struggling hands of which attempted to break free and grab hold to anything that presented itself. Most of the time the only thing avail were the walls themselves. The scientist chuckled lightly to himself, he found it offered a nice .. touch. A welcoming feel so to say. Or perhaps it was only welcoming in his sadistic and twisted mind.
Gently clutched within his right hand was the source of the irritable sound that echoed so smoothly around him. A rather ornate pen, engraved with fine golden lettering that swooped about in an elegant cursive fashion. Carefully he read over the small object, a gift from a former assistant, before her insolence was reprimanded. Hojo. It was beautiful in a sense much like she was. Yet, beautiful things never seem to last. Especially in the field he so adamantly represented. Slowly, he twisted it about his finger tips before proceeding to press the button toward the end - Click .. Click .. Click .. -
Hojo was the head of the extremists, the one to lead them through to victory. The sole purpose at this very time? Why, to relieve the world of the Turks, as well as the W.R.O. Perhaps, they would even make waste to one of his many failed experiments, and the leader of Avalanche. Though, in his eyes the experiment had failed, yes BUT it seemingly still managed to soar above the expectations and pose quiet the obstacle. Much like Arina. . .He would not make the same mistake thrice. Hojo quickened his pace taking note of Duece as well as Trellon inside the control room. 'Ah the process has begun.' He mused silently, taking the small pen and using it as a brush to push aside the platinum blond locks that persistantly cast across his view.
Slowly, he pressed the two men aside and peered through the small wire encased window, Arina coming into clear view. It was a beautiful, a magnificent sight indeed. Her body perhaps was writhing in agony, yet it formed into something of horrors. The sheer magnitude of the transformation was a grace in its own, and only a true mad man could appreciate the full potential of such. Yet, to his dismay a small frown crossed his lips. Her strength was unmatchable, and he had not planned for such. The bonds that held her elegant yet vicious form were bending, weakening under the pressure she threw upon them. He shook his head in a defeated mannerism before flipping up the glass casing that protected a rather large red button beneath. It was a fail safe for such situations. Once pressed it would release an inferno storm within the room itself, either killing or subduing the experiment. Most were killed. Though Hojo believed Arina to withstand such a blast, and return to her prior form. With a swift motion he slammed his hand down, the blaze searing across everything in the room and the sound that caused so much discomfort and anger coming to a stand still.
He turned toward the two men, grabbing a small clipboard from the desk. "I would like you to keep me updated, I must go and check on our other guest." A sadistic smile spread so casually across his lips as he made way from the control room and down past a few more sets of doors, slipping within the last one making his way to the red-heads cell. Gently he tapped his pen across the plated bars, his un-remorseful eyes gazing over the subjects limp body. There was so much that the human subject could endure. So very much pain it could withstand, and he was willing to push it until the breaking point. Hojo enjoyed watching the suffering they had all endured. The physical as well as the mental. "Oh, do tell me. How are you feeling?" He readied his pen across the small clipboard he removed from the control room, and awaited the response.
[Yes, since this being the first time any has seen Hojo since the explosion I decided to alter him slightly. You may feel free to ask, I will have a response. Or you can just let it go >.> ]
__________________________________WISDOM IS KNOWNG WHAT TO DO NEXT_____________________________________________skill is knowing how to do it,________________________________________and +virtue+ is doing it.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 5:53 pm
Reno The sound of Reno's cell window opening was what woke him from his slumber. He had not yet opened his eyes, more so for the fact that he could not. There was blood he had forgotten to wipe off that was caking his lids together, which, since he had momentarily forgotten this had happened, he began to panic. He did not move, merely, his body stiffened, which caused him to grit his teeth from pain. His wounds were obviously not healed and the pain was still quite intense. He brought his good arm to his eyes and rubbed vigorously, only to open his eyes to the sight of Hojo's face through the barred window of his door.
I must be ******** dreaming. He had forgotten, again, where he was, though not who he was, nor had he forgotten Hojo's disgusting, greasy face, however much it had changed throughout the years and the explosion that should have killed him. His voice sent chills through his entire being. He had always hated Hojo, even when he had worked for them. Always. What a ******** nutjob. And he was dead, so there was no way he was standing there right now. He must have been a brother. A cousin. A clone? It wouldn't be surprising, not after all Reno'd been through.
...But what had Reno been through? He just couldn't remember. Why was he here? Again? But after looking down at his wounds, he remembered where he had gotten them. More importantly, who had given them to him. There was a brief thought of rescue, but he couldn't think of anyone who would. Reno didn't know anyone, did he? Who was he, really, then? He couldn't be that important if he didn't know anyone. Well, there was Rufus, wasn't there? But hadn't something happened to him...? Wasn't Reno a Turk? Or did something happen?
Reno couldn't remember. He was feeling as though his memory loss was much worse than the predicament he was in, not to mention the torture that was awaiting him. "What the ******** are you doing with my head?" he asked quietly, calmly, as much as he wanted to flip out. Break something. Break him. He wanted to kill that little b***h of a man, Hyou, and Hojo, too. But right; it wasn't Hojo, as much as it looked like him. Couldn't be. Reno would just keep himself in denial. It worked, right? He couldn't remember anything anyway. So, Reno didn't even bother sit up. It didn't look like the Hojo clone was going to come in anytime soon. At least, not without a guard or someone like Hyou to accompany him. "The ******** do you want?"I'm in the same prison as you...
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 7:15 pm
Accomplishments are transient._____________________________
They pulled me in unremittingly_________________________________________ ______________My mind's not a well;
_____________________It won't run dry "My, my, my .. touchy no?" Slowly he traced his index finger and thumb down his jaw line in a thoughtful pose before he then proceeded to remove the key card from his front coat pocket. Hojo then made the effort to ensure that the small handgun he kept at his side was indeed loaded, after all it would not be in the best interest of the project to have a specimen let loose. At least not one who was going to survive in the escape efforts. After each and every procedure was in fact in order, Hojo then slid the card across the magnetic reader a welcoming ding eminating from the device.
Quickly he slid through the door before a tight click suggested it was indeed secure, making his way to the Turk before him. "Now, I shall repeat the question. How do you feel?" Hojo ignored the mans prior inquiry as to what he wanted, what in fact they were doing to his very head. He did not care what the Turk desired. He was merely there to extract the needed vital information, as well as to dispose of him, in the most painful fashion possible. It was more so a package deal for the scientist so to say. Not that it was going to be beneficial to Reno in the least. Gently he tapped the pen he still clutched tightly in his grasp against the hilt of the firearm, allowing Reno the time to take note that any violent actions would not be tolerated. There was much to Hojo now that the Turk did not know. Much had changed about him. His very being was perpetual in its existence.
Many had long forgotten the mad man that was responsible for the original Harbinger of Destruction. The one who harnessed Jenova's will and prowess, placing it within the vessel known as Sephiroth. The only experiment to ever successfully bring fame to his existence. Much to his dismay it was not the fame he wanted, more of an infamy. People referred to the man as insane, psychotic even. Thus, when his illedged death had occurred many rejoiced. Yet, he had not died. Years had passed, people began to forget the man once known as Hojo. Leaving himself hidden away, where he continued experiment after experiment.
Hojo let his pen fall away from the handle of the fire arm, where he instead retrieved the small clipboard he was originally going to write his notes upon. Looking over Reno he quirked a brow slightly, his glasses sliding partially down his nose, he then proceeded to scribble madly upon the paper. Taking note of each wound, the amount of blood upon the floor. Everything surrounding the two.
"I assume you are confused as to my existence. How did I ever survive such a blast?" He chuckled lightly, his pen now falling away from the paper. "A fancy trinket I myself invented, just for such a situation." Reaching gently down the front of his button down shirt he removed a small cylindrical object, that seemed to be embedded with different sized round stones. The central one seemed almost like a button, yet they all looked very similar to Materia. The outer stones held similar coloring to that of the Materia that provided resistances to the elements. While the central one was similar to that of the barrier Materia's. Pausing Hojo then began to pace slightly. "Do you understand now?"
__________________________________WISDOM IS KNOWNG WHAT TO DO NEXT_____________________________________________skill is knowing how to do it,________________________________________and +virtue+ is doing it.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 7:45 pm
Reno There was no response to Hojo, but the fact that he was entering Reno's cell was very disturbing indeed. What more could the red head possibly take? He was aching all over. He had forgotten what, exactly, they were going to do with him. He was under the impression they were just going to keep torturing him until he died, for sheer entertainment, probably. Well, Reno didn't want to die, especially because of someone who looked so much like Hojo. He didn't want the man to come inside the cell. Didn't want him to get near, didn't want to get touched. <********, get the ******** away from me. Holy s**t, don't But his face only showed anger.
He watched, as much to his dismay, as Hojo slithered into the room, closed the door and made such a painful walk towards the redhead. He hated it. He hated Hojo so much. This clone, this replica. Why? His appearance was so painful and Reno could hardly even remember why. So much was lost. So much was gone. Reno was so hungry... He could feel the pressure in his skull. He was going to have one hell of a headache soon. He couldn't stand it. Headaches were the worst. Worse than broken limbs. It was the truth. And the words that Hojo said... Oh, they were so familiar...and they had been said so many times, not even directly to Reno before. He had been there, he remembered. He didn't understand why Hojo was ever allowed to do the things he did, but... Well, it didn't matter since he couldn't remember.
"What the ******** does it look like?" Reno glared up at Hojo, right into his eyes. But it probably didn't mean much. He was just a broken man now. Not the fearsome Turk he used to be. No. "I'm just ******** dandy." He spit on Hojo's shoes, despite the fact that Hojo had a gun. Despite the fact that he could kick Reno in the ribs. Break them, probably. What did it matter? What more could Reno possibly lose? What was the point anymore? Nothing even mattered. This hope, this hope he had had... He didn't care. He would do what he wanted, if he wanted to. Not that he could do much. But he didn't need to show respect for a monster like this. A monster clone...
Hojo was suddenly scribbling on paper. Furiously. It made Reno feel pretty furious himself. He hated that sound. It brought up so much unpleasantness and he didn't even know where they came from, what they meant. But then it suddenly stopped. Reno wasn't looking at Hojo anymore. He had closed his eyes again. His face was lying on the cold concrete to sooth his head. He felt so hot. Why was he so hot? He was burning up. Shouldn't he be cold? The room was cold. The floor... He had lost so much blood. Why was he so hot? He was barely even wearing anything. Something must be wrong.
"How did I ever survive such a blast?" Reno opened his eyes quickly and sent an angry glare in Hojo's direction. What did he just say? The redhead watched while he explained and brought forth the trinket that saved his life. Reno couldn't believe it. Why didn't he just die? Why was he working for the other side? Because Shin-Ra... Shin-Ra, right? They wouldn't let him back? What was...the point...
"Why won't you just die?" Reno closed his eyes and let his head lie on the concrete again. He was so tired.I'm in the same prison as you...
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 8:55 pm
Accomplishments are transient._____________________________
They pulled me in unremittingly_________________________________________ ______________My mind's not a well;
_____________________It won't run dry An immeasurable burst of pleasure rose through his veins as his vivacious and illuminated eyes overlooked the anger that swam through the Turks very being. Oh how he enjoyed toying with his prey, how he basked in their feelings of confusion and complete fear. It was the superior feelings he longed for, and fed from. It was his animalistic nature that kept his very soul alive. Yet, in his time of ecstasy he could very well tell the man was not fine. The effects of of all the abuse, the malnutrition perhaps even severe dehydration left the Turk in a state of illness. Many would even compare it to the similar symptoms of delirium, his body seemingly trembled amongst the cold concrete flooring suggesting that he was indeed cold. He was scarcely dressed and his lips a very very light tinge of blue. Though his pores suggested otherwise. Beads of sweat trickled down, his cheeks were lightly flushed pink and the rest of his skin very pale.
"Hmmm, interesting. Tell me, your body does it feel .. irreparable. Do you feel as if there is nothing left for you?" He paused, his pen poised ready to take notes in a hasty fashion. Yet, it was in that very moment he lost his mind away in collaboration. 'Why won't you just die?' Lowering the clipboard he knelt down his eyes much closer to level with the subject. "Perhaps I should ask you the same question... after all death is unknown to most. A feeling that many fear to experience." Quickly he stood once more, his feet beginning to pace the room once more. One of his many vices that allowed him to think more clearly. "Humans are peculiar creatures. Creatures of habit. We tend to fear that, that we do not know... and hate that of which we do. I have yet to meet a single being nor creature that wishes death. As for humans, well survival is bred within our genetic code." The scientist began to feel as if he was rambling. Sharing his thoughts, perhaps too freely with that of the sickly man. Yet another vice, oh how he enjoyed shedding light upon subjects at hand. "I was not so willing to let my life fade away within the darkness before, as you so freely do with your own. Pity. I expected much more of a fight from you. You seemed like such a .. spitfyre. Ah yet appearances can be oh so deceiving."
Hojo huffed in a rather mellow dramatic fashion before he once again scribbled a few notes upon the clipboard. He was in silent contemplation amongst his very sub conscience. He rather felt the need to assist Hyou with this particular subject. Perhaps he would have the chance to test a few of his new toys upon the red head. He after all spent most of his hidden years experimenting on many DNA based creatures, in hopes of creating the perhaps perfect weapon. One that could easily be released upon the populace and there would be no trace, no way to cease the epidemic. But that was all perhaps a visage at the very moment he lived in. It would soon come, soon enough.
For now, he would grace the man with a moments rest, but he would return soon enough. Reno would understand the true meaning of pain all in time, and would beg for his life to come to an irreversible end.
__________________________________WISDOM IS KNOWNG WHAT TO DO NEXT_____________________________________________skill is knowing how to do it,________________________________________and +virtue+ is doing it.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 9:15 pm
Reno Why did this man always have to ask such stupid things? Like Reno was going to answer. He just kept his eyes closed and tried to keep his breathing steady. Why did he feel so shitty? His skin felt sticky...and he doubted it was from blood. He was sweating, that was for sure. He wondered vaguely if one of his wounds got infected, suddenly, though he doubted it. Despite the nature of his cell, he doubted there was anything around that could have gotten him sick. He wasn't really sure what it could have been. Well...it didn't matter now. Did it?
Reno wanted so badly to grab Hojo by the collar and scream into his face, slam his forehead into his face, break his glasses, his nose, rip his teeth out of his mouth. Rip out his tongue. This was what he wanted most of all. He hated Hojo's voice. He hated the way he was speaking to him, how he spoke to others. It was filthy. So wrong. Reno always felt as though he were being violated, and by mere words. He never spoke of these things, of course, and never showed any kind of weakness other than mild discomfort, but his discomfort now was so overwhelming in so many different factors that he could not control much of any of his actions. So there he continued to lay, somewhat broken, and shivering from the cold he could not understand when he was so hot. The words Hojo kept saying, death, death, death, Reno hated them. He hated Hojo for saying them. No. He didn't want to die.
"You just got to me too late, yo," Reno chuckled weakly, cracking one eye open at Hojo. "I guess I've been here for a few solid months, right? You're just too late." He must have done some kind of fighting before then, right? He knew he had fought Hyou, but he had been so confused by the encounter. He thought he would just be dragged to the chair and tortured there, but that wasn't the case at all. His mind was so muddled; nothing was being processed right. But Reno felt a wave of relief when Hojo finally stepped away. Those footsteps were very calming. Reno found himself falling back asleep when Hojo closed the door. Thank God.
Thank God. I'm in the same prison as you...
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Posted: Thu Mar 05, 2009 11:16 am
Hissing, spitting, the machine rumbled in upset disdain upon the enforcements suddenly imposed upon it, its experiment unlike others that had been latched down just as smartly, and severed, from all life past and mind alike. Infiltration was not used to being rejected, and thusly did it splutter and shudder beneath the revolt of skin beneath it—no longer supple and easily melded, invasion refuted by a being stronger for once than it.
“Pity,” Trellon breathed the word, gaze unmoving—until swiftly he was brushed aside, intrusion almost unheard for the intensity with which he had been monitoring the reactions of the specimen under his elaborate knife. A look of surprise and vice flared across his countenance before fluid blonde locks were noted and face relaxed into recognition—the Superior Superior, to the second in command of AVALANCHE. A beautiful mind set in affluently shifting a man, this leader he was so unabashedly respectful and enamored of: Hojo.
Still, ire did catch in his eyebrows, a faint quirk, nigh on unnoticeable, as his superior gazed out upon the fully transformed specimen, and then, suddenly with a bitten back cry of surprised protest, clear lid flipped up, beneath unquestionable hands of his leader, hovering but momentarily over the red button that would normally terminate the specimen at hand.
“Sir,” he uttered, but the button had been depressed and with a swift withdrawal, Infiltration halted its activities, humming from dissonance of its injury, and they gazed out beyond the room into the flare that tore throughout the room, devastating the experiment he had condoned as his in just these past months, and gentle a frown upon his lips as he watched what so swiftly he had ascertained go to waste.
Pity. He would not have minded her escape, or even rushing about in mad a manner throughout the facility. There were eyes and reinforcements aplenty, and he was certain of her eminent capture. Regardless, it would have provided so much more information on her abilities. And as with most of her previous elicited forms, should this impose upon her unconsciousness, the specimen would return yet again to her normal form, and much of the research yet to be done would be lost.
“Yes, sir,” he replied in a clipped tone, meaning no disrespect, but still irked at the loss so swiftly deemed. Hojo, he felt, had not allowed his dutiful worker to take the experimentation far enough. He would speak to him, whether or not such was to be garnered as suitable or not. His work was done in the name of insight, of the gathering and pursuit of knowledge. Let such not be taken from him! Even by Hojo, most respected and inane of his mentors. He would have none of this, and would persuade Hojo to the benefits of following through on the plan as Infiltration and he had established.
The machine, he would assure his superior, was more than capable of handling an experiment, even one who broke its bonds and refuted its assaults. There were far greater things it could manifest itself as besides a few mere incisions. Far greater things indeed.
Once Hojo had left the room, thinning of the lips and then a sigh of impatience. The flare died down at last, and Infiltration hummed belligerently, unhappy with the damage done to it by a mere specimen, if a potential-filled one. Several commands sent out, and the room was flooded with gas yet again, to knock out or at least disable the specimen. And should she not transform back as of yet, he would alter his techniques. Such was the ways of science. Every action would be met with swift, merciless a reaction. He would see to it.
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Posted: Thu Mar 05, 2009 5:43 pm
When she was not immediately released, the limit grew angrier. She tugged harder on the restraints, only managing to make the one holding her right wrist down crack along its seam...Suddenly something prickled on the back of her neck...This was no effect of her constraints, but rather instinct...Seconds later, the room was ingulfed by flame.
"Wh...You b*****d!"she shouted after a moment, coughing slightly on the dry air...Flames licked at her flesh as they tore through the room...This was insufferable...She couldn't stay in this firestorm...However, that was when a small smile graced her lips, glistening fangs now glowing orange as merely the tips were exposed to the flames...They had wanted her to limit break...Why shouldn't she give them just what she wanted?
When at last the room cleared enough to allow Trellon a proper view into the room, the Infiltration held no prisoner, and the vampire's golden rapier had disappeared from the floor...Something neither he, nor Hojo had apparently expected: As the room returned to normal, the only sign of difference was a small patch of shadow, about the size of a piece of paper, up in the corner of the room...The second limit was trying to hide herself...But in this damnably bright room of utter and complete irritation, there was nowhere for her to run to...The door was sealed...The vents were blocked...Even in this shape, which was less even than smoke, she couldn't find a way out...But, at least she had escaped the flames...
As soon as she thought it safe, the shadow jumped back down to the floor, returning to her usual, more solid and human-like shape...In this bright lighting, it was hard for her to stay insubstantial...Golden eyes scanned the room, looking for some form of crack, anything at all, that would aid her in her escape...Even if she couldn't completely disregard the chains of solidity in the room's cursed white brilliance, she could still alter her shape...any small crack would do...However, she sensed that foul, cursed gas almost at once...Did he really think that would stop her? She knew its pain already...and this form was mostly gaseous anyway...Despite that, she did feel vaguely more airy than she knew her current shape should...Whatever that was, at least it wasn't causing her pain...Apparently he hadn't expected her to shift between forms...
In all honesty, Arina hadn't expected herself to do that either...It had never happened before...The fact was, the ex-Turk had never even thought it possible. How could she possibly expect to swap from one of the monsters inside her to another like that? ...She hadn't done it intentionally, it was just a matter of self preservation.
From the instant Hojo had entered the small room, Deuce had dropped to his knees in a low bow. He did not speak to the Master First, knowing that it was not his place to make any noise in his presence...The Raven would keep whatever thoughts he had to himself...
The Master First seemed...Somehow disappointed, with the way the experiment was being run...Deuce couldn't deny that he had felt a small moment of happiness for the captive once she started to break her restraints...But that quickly faded once he heard the lead scientist flip the glass case open...His head snapped up, not really believing that Hojo would press the button, until the flames were already in the room...Something along the lines of shock swept over him, though of course it didn't show on his face...How could anything be expected to survive that?
After the Master First departed the room, Deuce returned to his feet, and stared wide-eyedly into the inferno...Fortunately, his sunglasses still hid that expression from Trellon...He didn't even know he was doing it...When the fires subsided, their captive was nowhere to be seen...Quickly, he scanned the room, seeking out any sign of her...His optical sensors settled on the upper corner of the room, spotting the shadow and analyzing it at once.
"Sir. Turk B238 remains in the room,"he said, before pointing her out...Of course, he really wouldn't have had to, because as soon as he had done so, she took the human shape of the second Limit....She seemed to be taking in every aspect of the room, trying to find a way out...Even the gas the AVALANCHEr released into the chamber seemed to have little effect on her...However, the bright lights seemed to be making her more solid...
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Posted: Mon Apr 13, 2009 6:29 pm
Trellon had neither cared one way nor the other of the over-zealous and efficient actions of the Raven under his control for the time being. Upon the departure of the many times over rejected scientist, the mastermind behind the revival of the elder AVALANCHE in far greater and crueler a form, his attention had immediately shifted to the failing flare storm within the experimentation room. Whereas many beasts and experiments had perished under that harsh blaze of conjured fiend magic, improved and made far more fatal in every aspect, Infiltration never suffered any harm. The garishly efficient, elegant machine was made of ores far stronger than any ever melded to such a purpose before.
Though… none ever had had such a purpose as this.
Yet it was not past a minute’s elapsed time that the Raven once more made itself known, announcing to the scientist what already he had noted for himself: that the experiment not only remained in the room, having had no opportunity for escape, but had suffered through the onslaught. Now it hid in as small a bundle as it could in a corner, naught but a darkened corner of a room smeared with the aftereffects of the strong assault. “Yes, it seems she does,” Trellon answered offhandedly, not paying the Raven much attention at all.
It took but a moment for the experiment to spring forth however, standing defiantly, in the already pronounced form of its second known limit break, and a far from outstanding or remarkable comeback. It had only regressed, and such was not to be appreciated in the least. Had he any such a need for trivial expressions of disappointment, Trellon might have clucked his tongue softly. But there was no need for that. Just as there was no need for the experiment to remain so bold and brash, or even in his presence any longer. This trial period had been both success and failure. But he would not put up with her antics any longer.
A swift glance at the clock had demanded that.
No words were spoken, as swiftly buttons were depressed in two easily timed commands, and within a second of his execution of them, the wide-paned, one-way window into the experimentation room darkened as though a light was suddenly turned off inside the next room. But such was not so. Then came brilliance as likened to the sun glaring uninhibited into one’s eyes at high noon in the other room, the whiteness of the panels bursting into light in unison, so strong that the hum from their combined power alone made one’s ears and head ring incessantly, so much so, it was almost painful. Like the onslaught of a sudden, vicious headache. It was far worse, however, in the experimentation room.
Somewhere within the next few seconds, Infiltration was withdrawn, and in its place, a stronger sedative was leaked into the room, until the ratio of breathable air to the gas seeped in was nigh on three to one. He would have no mistakes, and wanted her out cold. No more time was allowed him this day to idle. He had other experiments to see to. He waited still a good couple of minutes until the experiment seemed perfectly out cold and completely flushed out the air of the room, shutting down the marvelous device and finally leaving the control room adjacent its vicious white counterpart.
“Come with me,” he commanded the Raven smoothly, opening the door to the experimentation room and dictating that the Raven take up the limp woman. From there on in it was a swift journey to her cell, into which Trellon made sure she was deposited and locked back into easily. “You are dismissed from my services, Raven. You may return to the Second in Command for new orders.”
Trellon did not even wait for a reply before moving with decisive steps down the hall and into another section of the laboratory, until he arrived in an area where only one specific experiment under his care was contained. He stopped before the door and released the locks with incessant ease, stepping through the cell doorway, gloves long ago discarded and not needed for this particular specimen.
“LR-002,” he intoned professionally, gaze sweeping to the specimen aforementioned. “It’s time for your next dosage.”
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