*Note* GenTech, Layhr, and the original concepts are works of mathewt3hd0rk <3 I miss the old shop ;-;
The Bread and Butter
Status: Snagged for Pix!
Orientation: Straight
Alignment: Meh (True Neutral)
Breedings: 3/3
The Meat and Potatoes
Personality:
Jaded. VI's been through quite a lot with everything out of his control. His response over time was to shrink back into his own mind, to stop caring as much as possible just to survive.
Although he's left his old life behind, VI's nature has become a force of habit. It takes quite a bit of patience to wear down his walls, not that the poor guy is ever expecting anyone to.
Backstory:
The RP contest entry that won the original VI in GenTech nearly ten years ago. (Oh god this hurts to read, yikes Dx )
The chill of metal pressed against his form did little to stir him. What was the point of movement? No matter where he should settle down behind these gray bars, the coldness would still be there. Perhaps it would even be a part of him.
Somewhere down the narrow room a staccato click resounded, soon followed by the creaking hinge and clank of the door crashing against the metallic wall; all this announcing the unlocking of a cage… a new day. The warmth of the sun was unknown here… there was no night, no dawn… no break from the dark. It was all the same…. Always the same…
A muffled yowl shuddered through the sterile chambers; disturbing a dread within VI he wished would die. Shifting uncomfortably, his ears pricked as the echo of the door being closed hit a note that buried itself inside him. He leaned a bit harder into the corner, repressing the memories that drowned him in agony. There was no escape from here… no hope… no longer a reason to struggle. Maybe one of these injections would be his last… maybe his next breath would be his last…
Another click; another cry. He closed his eyes against the noise. Another prisoner to life.
Each turn of the cycle brought the noises closer to him. Until finally they were at the pen next to his own. Another click, another cry… but not a Layhr’s one this time. Violent words spewed from a human’s mouth, apparently in pain. Footfalls that scurried away were the indications of his leaving. Perhaps a mouthful of teeth had been the first to meet his fingertips as he reached into that cage… or perhaps claws raking over his arm…
But the attacker was paying for it heavily. Screams of misery rattled next to him, thrashing and muffled voices as the white coats worked to subdue the fiery Layhr. Finally it was over, and there was another slam. A shadow draped his light suddenly, and he knew his time had come. Another click, and something inside him curled up… shrinking away from the cloth and hand that drew near. Yet he himself did not move. There had been a time when he would’ve fought, like the one to his side had done; and long before that he recalled believing he was ill, and this was the means by which to get better… that this was the help he needed.
Those feelings had come and gone, leaving in their place an empty numb that consumed him quicker than any of these tests ever could. He felt the filthy cloth being shoved against his jaws, a meager attempt at restraining him; if he had the will to push it aside anyway. As it was he gave in quietly, he would not give them the satisfaction of another cry, at least, as the sharp jab met the soft flesh right above the collarbone. Instinctually he pulled away, nearly whimpering with the biting sting. Hands grasped him and dragged him closer, finishing the dose within the syringe. Withdrawing the needle from his sore neck and leaving him to sink to the floor, they took the cloth, and stepped back. His breath, increasing with the rate of his heart, started to burn coldly in the back of his throat. He felt hot and itchy, this fire spreading from muscle to muscle; setting his veins to twist and pull upon themselves… he cringed and cowered as if to escape his own body. Resigning himself to his corner again, his tail twitching, as well as the fin upon his back, as if the webbed filament had been constructed of red coal; he whimpered to himself as the door was closed with a crash that resounded in his skull.
Another prisoner to life.
VI is a Layhr, a mutant hybrid of who-knows-what, created by and tested upon the people of GenTech. It's assumed that their end goal was to create a weapon or army of attack creatures with a high level of intelligence and specialized abilities. Tortured, trained, tested; VI has been through hell. And it's certainly left a mark.
As a 'teen', he was classified as a failure and released from the facility into the hands of a contracted caretaker (since this was less costly than having to pay for the upkeep of a mutant experiment, or kill off the 'project' and lose access to a potential genetic material and all the work that had gone into him).
This was his first experience with grass. Sunlight. A bed that wasn't made of metal. Every month he still was taken to that horrid place for a 'check up', not sure if this would be the time his handler would give him over and he'd be taken back again or killed or what.
The constant uncertainty prohibited the growth of trust, even years after his 'release'. Eventually, GenTech was shut down. (Perhaps by the government by over-exposure or public outcry) VI couldn't have known the legal battle over him that ensued, or what his handler gave up to protect him.
All VI knows for sure is that eventually she stopped taking him to the Labs, and became increasingly uneasy. Her trips out became longer, and then one day she just didn't come back.
Fearing a trap, he ran off and has been running ever since.
------------
Family:
VI's not sure who his family is, or if he was simply created in a test tube. He certainly doesn't think of any of the techs as family, though there's sort of a sibling bond to the other experiments that went through the same hell.
The closest VI can really claim is the care taker that took him from GenTech when he was deemed a failure. Despite her best efforts, VI never formed a strong bond with her.
Relations:
-NONE-
Personality:
Jaded. VI's been through quite a lot with everything out of his control. His response over time was to shrink back into his own mind, to stop caring as much as possible just to survive.
Although he's left his old life behind, VI's nature has become a force of habit. It takes quite a bit of patience to wear down his walls, not that the poor guy is ever expecting anyone to.
Backstory:
The RP contest entry that won the original VI in GenTech nearly ten years ago. (Oh god this hurts to read, yikes Dx )
The chill of metal pressed against his form did little to stir him. What was the point of movement? No matter where he should settle down behind these gray bars, the coldness would still be there. Perhaps it would even be a part of him.
Somewhere down the narrow room a staccato click resounded, soon followed by the creaking hinge and clank of the door crashing against the metallic wall; all this announcing the unlocking of a cage… a new day. The warmth of the sun was unknown here… there was no night, no dawn… no break from the dark. It was all the same…. Always the same…
A muffled yowl shuddered through the sterile chambers; disturbing a dread within VI he wished would die. Shifting uncomfortably, his ears pricked as the echo of the door being closed hit a note that buried itself inside him. He leaned a bit harder into the corner, repressing the memories that drowned him in agony. There was no escape from here… no hope… no longer a reason to struggle. Maybe one of these injections would be his last… maybe his next breath would be his last…
Another click; another cry. He closed his eyes against the noise. Another prisoner to life.
Each turn of the cycle brought the noises closer to him. Until finally they were at the pen next to his own. Another click, another cry… but not a Layhr’s one this time. Violent words spewed from a human’s mouth, apparently in pain. Footfalls that scurried away were the indications of his leaving. Perhaps a mouthful of teeth had been the first to meet his fingertips as he reached into that cage… or perhaps claws raking over his arm…
But the attacker was paying for it heavily. Screams of misery rattled next to him, thrashing and muffled voices as the white coats worked to subdue the fiery Layhr. Finally it was over, and there was another slam. A shadow draped his light suddenly, and he knew his time had come. Another click, and something inside him curled up… shrinking away from the cloth and hand that drew near. Yet he himself did not move. There had been a time when he would’ve fought, like the one to his side had done; and long before that he recalled believing he was ill, and this was the means by which to get better… that this was the help he needed.
Those feelings had come and gone, leaving in their place an empty numb that consumed him quicker than any of these tests ever could. He felt the filthy cloth being shoved against his jaws, a meager attempt at restraining him; if he had the will to push it aside anyway. As it was he gave in quietly, he would not give them the satisfaction of another cry, at least, as the sharp jab met the soft flesh right above the collarbone. Instinctually he pulled away, nearly whimpering with the biting sting. Hands grasped him and dragged him closer, finishing the dose within the syringe. Withdrawing the needle from his sore neck and leaving him to sink to the floor, they took the cloth, and stepped back. His breath, increasing with the rate of his heart, started to burn coldly in the back of his throat. He felt hot and itchy, this fire spreading from muscle to muscle; setting his veins to twist and pull upon themselves… he cringed and cowered as if to escape his own body. Resigning himself to his corner again, his tail twitching, as well as the fin upon his back, as if the webbed filament had been constructed of red coal; he whimpered to himself as the door was closed with a crash that resounded in his skull.
Another prisoner to life.
VI is a Layhr, a mutant hybrid of who-knows-what, created by and tested upon the people of GenTech. It's assumed that their end goal was to create a weapon or army of attack creatures with a high level of intelligence and specialized abilities. Tortured, trained, tested; VI has been through hell. And it's certainly left a mark.
As a 'teen', he was classified as a failure and released from the facility into the hands of a contracted caretaker (since this was less costly than having to pay for the upkeep of a mutant experiment, or kill off the 'project' and lose access to a potential genetic material and all the work that had gone into him).
This was his first experience with grass. Sunlight. A bed that wasn't made of metal. Every month he still was taken to that horrid place for a 'check up', not sure if this would be the time his handler would give him over and he'd be taken back again or killed or what.
The constant uncertainty prohibited the growth of trust, even years after his 'release'. Eventually, GenTech was shut down. (Perhaps by the government by over-exposure or public outcry) VI couldn't have known the legal battle over him that ensued, or what his handler gave up to protect him.
All VI knows for sure is that eventually she stopped taking him to the Labs, and became increasingly uneasy. Her trips out became longer, and then one day she just didn't come back.
Fearing a trap, he ran off and has been running ever since.
------------
Family:
VI's not sure who his family is, or if he was simply created in a test tube. He certainly doesn't think of any of the techs as family, though there's sort of a sibling bond to the other experiments that went through the same hell.
The closest VI can really claim is the care taker that took him from GenTech when he was deemed a failure. Despite her best efforts, VI never formed a strong bond with her.
Relations:
-NONE-
The Frosting on the Cake
Plots:
- Pix has claim on his mate plots
Looking For:
- Friends, enemies, any other Layhr out there on the run?
RP LOG
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