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ID #: 002
Started On: Tue May 30, 2006 2:01 pm
Completed On: Wed May 31, 2006 12:06 am
Characters: Kikue, Jamal
Original Link: Click.

Synopsis: Kikue meets Jamal, and learns about the truth of the Island.

Kikue stepped out of her room, closing the door to her duplex securely behind her. The humidity in the tropical air hit her immediately, causing a frown to make its way over her face. Fresh from a cool shower, she was ready for breakfast...or food for whatever time of the day it happened to be. But it was hot outside.

She pocketed her duplex key and made her way down the steps. Glancing around, she realized there was another duplex under her own. I wonder who lives there? She made a mental note to introduce herself to them sometime.

"Gods is it hot," she murmured, shaking out her yukata fabric and walking slowly toward a cluster of buildings not far away. One looked large, and she guessed that might be the mess hall. Maybe? She hadn't been very alert talking to Dr. Duvert last night...

She stopped, keeping her injured hand close to herself. The air was sticky and made her long hair cling to her back. Ugh. It could even be midday. How long had she slept? And how did she get to the mess hall again?

She stood unmoving in the middle of the village square, looking around. She had no idea where to go.

Jamal had not spent a great deal of time in his duplex today, nor had he even slept there the previous night. The tiger man had grown increasingly fond of sleeping in the jungle at night; his constantly nagging instincts quieted when he was surrounded by the comforting plant life. He did still visit his duplex at least once a day to get clean clothes though and while Kikue was debating where to go, the man was also exiting his duplex. He was barechested, as he usually was now thanks to the itchy fur on his back, and wore ratty cut-off jeans (that were not female jeans, nope, no siree... >> ) as well as his faded black do-rag. His clawed, digigrade-stance didn't allow him to wear proper shoes and even if he could, he'd still go barefoot.

As he turned to walk away from his duplex, he saw the woman and quirked a brow. She had the WEIRDEST costume on...and she also looked lost or like she was waiting for someone. Hm.

Well, he was hungry and too lazy to go out and catch his own meal, so he didn't think much of the new woman as he strode towards the larger building she had looked at earlier.

The thought never crossed his mind that she might be the newest of the new...the ones that hadn't yet got the 'welcome to the island' speech.

Kikue noticed the person heading in her directoin -- or at least, in the direction of the building she had thought was the mess hall. Having nowhere else to go herself, she began walking so as to meet him at the doors to the building. She couldn't quite distinguish him, because something seemed off. Squinting in the sunlight, she noticed his feet most of all. They looked strangely shaped, in a way she couldn't place from the distance.

Thinking he was wearing his own "weird costume" she made a small wave with her hand to get his attention as they were nearly a few feet from each other.

Something about this man...was strange.

Jamal had more or less ignored the woman until she started moving towards the cafeteria also and seemed to be trying to get his attention. A light murr under his breath and a roll of the eyes escaped before he could try to mask his irritation. God, how he hated the overly friendly type...

As he got closer to the building, he glanced over his shoulder at the approaching woman, whiskers flicking of their own accord, and attempted to at least not bite her head off. No reason to flip out on her...yet anyway.

"Mmyeah? Ya need somethin'?" As he spoke, his sharp canines flashed brightly from his maw and even when his lips closed, the tips peeked out just barely over his bottom lip.

Most people didn't address him unless they had a true reason to. It made sense for the woman to have a motive of some sort.

She stopped herself from staring, but definitely noticed his "strange" features up close. The whiskers looked like they were really from his face, and his nose was cat-like. Surprised, she had also caught his eye roll on the way up to him. Shock overrode annoyance.

Kikue decided to use the most logical question as an opener. Being 5'2", she had to look up at the cat man to address him. Those piercing, cat-like eyes...had she really just gotten out of her room? Or was this some kind of daydream?

"...Are you...here for the physical therapy program, sir?" She held out her banadaged hand carefully, but kept it close. The rough black man looked like he could easily snap her in two. With a bad hand, she stood little chance if he got angry.

Fear was distant, but present. How could this man look like this? ...It didn't even look like he had modified his body. It looked real.

The life-like nose even had nostrils that flared some as Jamal sucked in a breath and held it as he digested her question, eyes automatically narrowing slightly. It was probably for her that Jamal had a deep-seeded affection for women as well as an affinity for ones that were on the shorter side, all from his human side. Whatever worked to keep his temper at check ought to be considered a blessing.

"No, I ain't herr fo' no physical therapy...there wasn't a damn thing wrong wit' me when they stuck me on dis ********' rock," he muttered as he turned fully to face her, his larged, well-toned arms crossing losely in front of his chest. His sharp feline gaze noted the cast on her hand and his nose smelt the odd tang that is associated with a cast; all to familiar thanks to his run in with Antony.

He did managed a smirk, which exposed one of the long, slender canine teeth, in an attempt to appear a little more friendly. He really was trying to be a decent guy. Really.

God it was hard.

Kikue could feel his agitation, or at least that he was trying not to be short with her. Had it been any other situation, she would have been glad to give him his space and find out whatever she had to on her own. But seeing him, and being 19 hours by plane from what could even be considered her own country, she decided she could not afford to just gracefully allow this man his way.

Apparently he was angry about being here, and he wasn't here for physical therapy. What?

"I'm sorry to bother you like this," she said bluntly, "but I'm here for physical therapy, and arrived last night." She put her hand over her arm and met his eyes, although they seemed distant because of their cat-like appearance... "I don't know my way here, but if you aren't here for physical therapy, why are you here?" This island was supposed to be hosting a therapy clinic for extensive injuries, like Kikue's. Surely there might be more facilities, but she hadn't been lead to believe that...and why did this man look so...much like a cat?

He has stripes...he doesn't look like a cat, with those. He looks like a tiger.

Jamal facefaulted a little at her explaination as he realized that she was still under the facade that the staff were so good at weaving for the new people. Wow...so she was fresh off the helicopter, so it seemed. Probably still stinging some from her injection, possibly.

...oh great. This was going to be awkward as hell. Jamal had never had to deal with 'fresh meat' like this before. He was the LAST person that ought to administer the talk.

There was a long, pregnant pause before Jamal cleared his throat noisily, which sounded much like a feline's purr and rubbed his face with one heavily calloused hand.

"I'm herr fo' da same reason ev'ryone else is," he said finally, taking the hand that had been rubbing his face and indicating the grounds that all the duplex buildings stood on. "'N' it ain't fo' no therapy eitha'. You been lied to. Lied to jus' like ev'ryone else got lied to."

If one thought it was possible, they might have been able to detect a slight note of sympathy in his words. There was also very clearly some dragging to his voice also...like he -really- did not want to explain what was going on. However, he knew it was probably futile to even think that way. If the girl was at all sharp, she'd want to know what was really going on.

Or she could just deny it like he did. Denial could be a powerful thing.

Kikue stopped short, words lost to her. "...Lied to?" she repeated, her head shaking slowly as she kept her eyes locked on his. "Lied...what do you mean, lied to?" Why was she taking his words at face value? She wasn't even sure she wasn't hallucinating from lack of sleep yet. But she had been so sure she was quite awake. Lied to?

She grabbed her bad hand to her chest compulsively, staring at him. "I flew halfway around the world to get here...no one even knows I'm here...I can't have been lied to." She gripped her bandaged hand painfully, staring at his inhuman features. His cat-like pouchy mouth, the whiskers, the fur across his upper body. It could all be modifications. But it made no sense. Why? And therapy...?

What was going on?

"No one knew where I went eitha. The docs prefer it dat way so no one back home asks questions 'bout where we be..." he said without a hitch to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sounding even odd to his own ears. "It's all a lie. You ain't herr ta get no therapy. At least, not what ya think ya gonna get. I know ya ain't gonna believe me 'cause I didn't believe no one fo' da longest time. I didn't think it was gonna happen to me when I DID believe what happened ta da otha's..."

Jamal started to fumble at the back pocket of his shorts, all the while shaking his slightly as though he too was in disbelief over the whole situation. Shortly, the fruits of his struggling were produced when a very tattered, faded, and torn wallet fell into his palm and he flipped it open. The way he handled the wallet almost seemed like it was a struggle for him to do so...that it caused him physical pain to stare at pictures that flashed into view briefly as he thumbed through them. Most of the pictures were of women...a few of young children and what were probably relatives, and then finally he stopped on a picture of three young gentlemen, probably in their early twenties, standing on a basketball court. The middle guy had his arms draped over the shoulders of the other two and the outside guys were flashing some sort of sign with their hands. The tiger man tapped a claw on the man on the right. It was a picture of Jamal and his buddies.

"...this was me not too long b'fo I left ta come to da island. At da time, I didn't know what really went on herr. As ya see, I don't look like dat no mo'."

If Kikue took the time to try to match the piercings to the tiger man's piercings...the bullet scars on the pictured man's bare chest to the faint pink marks that were the same scars and the dark, vibrant tattoos of the picture to the heavily faded, almost invisible tattoos of the man before her, she would see the resemblance.

Staring in disbelief, she peered at Jamal's wallet photos, and then up at the man himself. Not sure if he would want her to touch it, she placed her hand behind the back to get a good luck at the men. Looking back at Jamal, she could indeed see that he could have been the man indicated in the picture. Hearing his words, she continued to look at his changed face to that of what he used to be.

Suddenly sympathetic to him, she asked quietly, "What happened to you?" She had no idea why she was believing what he was saying. She had seen Dr. Duvert last night; everything had been set and fine. Why was everything a ruse so quickly? Shouldn't she trust a doctor over someone she barely knew?

But, unlike any other person, Jamal faced her with something she could not ignore. His face, his body. He need say nothing to point that out. Something was off with him...but why? Why did he look like that?

Why did she believe him? "You didn't choose these markings?" she added, in addition to her other question. She would never have thought this had been forced. What the hell was all this?

"They inject ya wit' a serum of some kind...it messes wit' your body 'n' turns ya inta whateva' animal they decide. Me, I got tiger fo' some reason...they tell ya at first da shot is ta keep ya from gettin' sick, but once ya start changing, there's no denyin' what's goin' on anymo' cause they gotta keep GIVIN' ya shots to keep ya changin' otha'wise word is dat ya get real sick. Ya can't do nuthin' ta stop 'em from doin' it eitha'. They kin knock ya out wit' a single sentence if they want 'n' shoot ya up right then."

Jamal was WELL versed in how the implanted chips worked, having been zapped down at least a half dozen times.

"There ain't no way I'da done this willin'....I'm a black man turnin' white fo' christsake. I was lookin' fo' a place ta go...I neva' imagined s**t like this was possible. Now look at me."

He splayed his hands open, palms toward her, showing off the thickened callous pawpads there on his fingers and palm. His claws were in their semi-retrated state as he couldn't pull them in.

"It's all real. God, I wish it wasn't...but it's real."

She shook her head slowly, not to deny what she heard him saying, but in shock and disbelief at the meaning of what she heard. Pulling up the sleeve of her yukata, she could still see the faint red mark where she had been injected the night before. She looked up at him, only then noticing that he was, of course, right : his fur was white where it had grown in, and his black skin was somewhat paled. The heavy pawpads on his hands were really growing out of his skin.

Kikue put a hand to her head, thoughts racing. She looked back up at his stark blue eyes : even they shouldn't be that blue, with that slit of a pupil. Oh, gods, there was no way he could have done it to himself, even if he'd wanted to.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. It was not for her lightheadedness, or for bothering him on his way in to eat; it was for what was happening to him. How could this be real?

Another feeling boiled up in her. It wasn't Dr. Duvert's expert act of deception, or the black man sprouting tiger fur in front of her. It was that she had come here to fix her hand; to play again.

Eyes flashing, she gripped her bad hand painfully, meeting Jamal's expression. "If they plan on doing this to me...which I take it they have already, because I was injected last night...is my hand still going to be healed? Or was I lead here on false pretenses completely?"

Somehow, she was quite calm in appearance, save for her eyes. They mirrored the frustration and darkening emotion on the inside.

He pulled his exposed hands back into fists, one closing over the wallet, and once again crossed his arms, feeling awkward again. He hadn't looked in his wallet in a long time, but he had carried it around for a long time. For some sense of normalcy. It was amazing that he was being so serious and sympathetic right now, but he could understand her confusion. He had been there. Everyone had been there at one point.

"All da sorrys in da world ain't gonna make me human again or gonna make it so I can go home, but thanks," he said, somewhat more curtly as he was actively trying to not become any sort of emotional, be it anger or sadness. He saw the little red mark where she had been injected; it was too late. "Da truth is dat I dunno what they're gonna do 'bout yer hand. They might have some twisted way ta fix it. I don't know. I mean, hell...dependin' on what yer turnin' inta, you might not HAVE a hand when yer done..."

He grimaced a little at that; it came out a little more blunt than he had intended. Jamal wasn't good at the whole 'gently easing new people into what they were going to be dealing with' issue...he'd never had to explain in detail what went on here. He preferred it that way.

"I've learned ta not trust a word da staff say anymo'. Peeps gonna tell ya dat s**t ain't dat bad herr 'n' ya oughta jus' get ova it 'n' move on. I can't do dat 'n' I won't. It's yer choice what ya wanna believe, but there ain't no good comin' outta dat lab."

Kikue put a hand over her forehead, almost like a pounding headache was on its way. She was sure at the end of this she would have one. Of all the animals in the world -- turning people into animals -- it could be anything. She didn't mind his bluntness; she almost appreciated it. She could have any animal tied to her now; it could be the fish that she ate in her sushi.

Running her good hand over her neck, she had no idea what she looked like to the tiger man; her face was twisted by emotion. Brow furrowed, she knew she had to get away and somehow figure out what was going on. Perhaps Duvert really couldn't be trusted; he'd missed this part of the fine print.

"I..." Kikue flicked her grey eyes back to the man. "I'm sorry I bothered you on your way here. Thank you for telling me this to the best of your ability." She knew she should probably even be afraid of him, but she stuck her hand out and gripped his paw-padded hand in a weak handshake. "My name is Kikue," she said, her voice struggling to stay even. "I'm in Duplex 48. I think I'm going to call those labs immediately and demand an explanation, even if it will only be what you just told me."

Looking away, she let her hand drop back to her side, her expression a mask of confusion and angry pain. "If I find out anything that might be valuable to you, I will tell you."

Jamal felt oddly at peace with this woman. No one had talked to him in a long time without being flat-out afraid or angry with him...it was truely something he hadn't thought he missed until now. He appreciated that she didn't jump to conclusions, at any rate. The new ones that had run into other islanders first had gotten intro. courses to Jamal before the man even had wind that new faces had even arrived.

"I wasn't inna hurry anyway," he said, truthful for the most part. It was true...where was he going to go that required a specific time and date? He was stuck on this rock and there wasn't a schedule set for anything as far as he knew. The bold move of taking his hand in a gesture of goodwill was something else that struck him funny; his hand nearly engulfed hers because he was so big and she was so little...she was brave, that was sure. He returned the gesture though, even though he felt distinctly uncertain about being so candid with her. At least she hadn't burst into tears.

"Da name's Jamal...I'm in Duplex 7. I ain't in it much anymo', but if fo' so reason ya need ta talk ta me, jus' leave a short, simple note." He added the simple in a veiled attempt to hopefully mask his horrible illiteracy. "'n' good luck tryin' ta get them docs ta answer yer questions straight up."

She was a strange girl...but Jamal thought she was alright. At least, so far.

Kikue nodded in response to his name, and where he was. She forced a smile. She knew she might just get another tall tale from the labs, but Jamal was her proof to whatever they said. If it didn't explain him, it explained nothing. She liked Jamal's bluntness. She liked hearing this version rather than the soft, comforting one. Because this was not going to be comforting.

"I may see you around again, then," she said. "Thank you." With that, she turned to leave him to his business in what she still wasn't sure was the mess hall, while she began striding back towards her duplex with her face set.

She had an intercom to use.

Jamal nodded faintly, as though distracted, and watched her set towards her duplex.

All in all, that didn't go that bad...but he really didn't want to have to explain things again to another new person. Certainly the next individual would not take it so easily. He'd rather not think about that, however.

He shook his head slightly in a disapproving manner before shoving the door to the cafeteria open. He had steaks to eat.