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Futuristic Terror On The Airwaves
- Thread starter sspky
- Start date
The Blue Adept
bleh
[boops]
sspky
ooof my bones
[ ooc post for me ]
sspky
ooof my bones
...Terror On The Airwaves
(( OOC: can they fight off jetpack Nazis at some point? I hope they can fight off jetpack Nazis at some point.))
It was 1939 and Edmond Shaw was growing awfully tired of Nazis. His dissertation on the transmogrification of deceased flesh had earned him simultaneous praise and ridicule amongst his peers, and ever since his April publication in the Scientific Annum, he had been pestered with anonymous late-night telephone calls and strange, unlabeled packages left in the dark corners of his laboratory at the Berkeley campus of the University of California.
The Soviet secret agents were a bother, certainly, but he’d noticed they’d cooled their pursuits somewhat ever since the increased and surely unrelated FBI presence around the San Francisco area. Although hardly patriotic, Doctor Shaw worked and resided on American soil, and so he chose his political neutrality with care.
All that aside, the occult imagery of the Nazis was a slight against the very core of Edmonds scientific ideology and he’d be damned if he ever shared so much as a scrap of his research with the goons.
So far his stealthy stalkers had only attempted to contact him at his home or public laboratory. He suspected they had yet to discover the existence of his other, better, and far more secret (and doubtlessly illegal) second laboratory deep in the bowels beneath the old Hickman Manor up on Big Mountain.
It was in this other, better, secret laboratory where Dr. Shaw was at present engroused in another of the offending, unlabeled documents. A warm glow crackled from the hearth to the left of the overstuffed leather sofa on which he was currently reclined. The contents of the strange package lay scattered about the spacious study with little care, while Edmond Shaw alternated between sipping a glass of Buchanan and scoffing incredulously at whatever he was currently reading.
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The Blue Adept
bleh
[ oh I would kill to see that ]
Jude Fletcher had spent enough time around Doctor Shaw to know that things were never simple, and this was true now more than ever as the man received unwanted attention. As much as he was certain Edmond basked in the attention, good and bad, it made Jude terribly paranoid when he was out and about, waiting for the offhand moment when some sort of agent would inevitably knife him in an alleyway or rob him of suspected special documents- which he reminded himself to never carry on his person.
This was not to say that Jude was a stranger to looking over his shoulder, after all he was just as invested in the research as the doctor himself, and straying off the traditional scientific path had gained him his own fair share of suspicion over the years when he first became the man's assistant. Everything always started out so innocent, but who was he to deny the wonders of defying human nature? Of denying nature itself?
As much as he was pleased with the way the publication had gone, he found himself avoiding spending too much time in Berkley's labs. The rumors were annoying and he'd grown tired of going out of his way to intimidate some of the other researchers into shutting up. Oh how he was grateful nothing had made it's way to his home address. He was only the assistant, after all, certainly not the mastermind but he did take his own amount of pride of being involved in the work.
Still, that didn't stop him from making a face when he entered the study of the real lab, shoulder bag tucked under his arm before tossing it onto a side table with an unceremonious sigh. He shrugged off his coat before peering with a scrutinizing glance over at whatever Edmond had busied himself with. "More fan mail? You shouldn't open those so carelessly," he commented idly as he smoothed his shirt free of wrinkles. "Someday someone is going to send you something poisonous or chemically volatile and I will not resuscitate you."
He leaned over the back of the couch in curiosity to read the damned thing anyways. "But clearly you like torturing yourself. What is it this time?"
Jude Fletcher had spent enough time around Doctor Shaw to know that things were never simple, and this was true now more than ever as the man received unwanted attention. As much as he was certain Edmond basked in the attention, good and bad, it made Jude terribly paranoid when he was out and about, waiting for the offhand moment when some sort of agent would inevitably knife him in an alleyway or rob him of suspected special documents- which he reminded himself to never carry on his person.
This was not to say that Jude was a stranger to looking over his shoulder, after all he was just as invested in the research as the doctor himself, and straying off the traditional scientific path had gained him his own fair share of suspicion over the years when he first became the man's assistant. Everything always started out so innocent, but who was he to deny the wonders of defying human nature? Of denying nature itself?
As much as he was pleased with the way the publication had gone, he found himself avoiding spending too much time in Berkley's labs. The rumors were annoying and he'd grown tired of going out of his way to intimidate some of the other researchers into shutting up. Oh how he was grateful nothing had made it's way to his home address. He was only the assistant, after all, certainly not the mastermind but he did take his own amount of pride of being involved in the work.
Still, that didn't stop him from making a face when he entered the study of the real lab, shoulder bag tucked under his arm before tossing it onto a side table with an unceremonious sigh. He shrugged off his coat before peering with a scrutinizing glance over at whatever Edmond had busied himself with. "More fan mail? You shouldn't open those so carelessly," he commented idly as he smoothed his shirt free of wrinkles. "Someday someone is going to send you something poisonous or chemically volatile and I will not resuscitate you."
He leaned over the back of the couch in curiosity to read the damned thing anyways. "But clearly you like torturing yourself. What is it this time?"
sspky
ooof my bones
“Lunacy,” he replied, “It’s pure lunacy.”
It was unclear if he was answering his assistants question, or simply announcing the notion that had already been biting at the tip of his tongue. In fact, it was unclear if he’d noticed his assistants arrival at all.
At the forefront of the stack of papers in his hand was an off-white sheet of paper containing an elaborate chemical formula alongside a strange, triangular symbol.
‘fig. a: the Neuhaeusser-Böhme equation’, read the faint text beneath the formula. And, below the strange symbol: ‘fig . b: Horn der Weisheit’.
“The ‘ubermensch’ wouldn’t know the esoteric metasciences from frivolous Germanic folk-tales!” he announced with disdain, and cast the page aside. The rest of the documents he let fall to the floor, where they scattered along the thread-bare Persian rug. He’d have Mr. Fletcher clean it later.
Speaking of, where was his stalwart assistant?
“Mr. Fletcher, have you -- oh!” he cut himself off, his chin tilting up sharply at the sight of the man standing over the couch, “You’re here already. Splendid. I’ve received more...'fan-mail', as you call it, and I appear to be nearly out both whiskey and glutaraldehyde!”
It was unclear if he was answering his assistants question, or simply announcing the notion that had already been biting at the tip of his tongue. In fact, it was unclear if he’d noticed his assistants arrival at all.
At the forefront of the stack of papers in his hand was an off-white sheet of paper containing an elaborate chemical formula alongside a strange, triangular symbol.
‘fig. a: the Neuhaeusser-Böhme equation’, read the faint text beneath the formula. And, below the strange symbol: ‘fig . b: Horn der Weisheit’.
“The ‘ubermensch’ wouldn’t know the esoteric metasciences from frivolous Germanic folk-tales!” he announced with disdain, and cast the page aside. The rest of the documents he let fall to the floor, where they scattered along the thread-bare Persian rug. He’d have Mr. Fletcher clean it later.
Speaking of, where was his stalwart assistant?
“Mr. Fletcher, have you -- oh!” he cut himself off, his chin tilting up sharply at the sight of the man standing over the couch, “You’re here already. Splendid. I’ve received more...'fan-mail', as you call it, and I appear to be nearly out both whiskey and glutaraldehyde!”
The Blue Adept
bleh
"Lunacy in a good way or a bad way?" Jude rose a brow curiously as he moved to swipe up the fallen papers as they fell, far too used to it to be annoyed at this point. He stacked them neatly, whether or not they were important papers, and set them aside on the table to file away properly later, depending on if Doctor Shaw intended to keep them or not. You never knew when something might become relevant, couldn't hurt to keep it.
He hadn't been wearing his sweater when he came in, but the temperature down in the depths of labs was still quite chilly for him, even with the pressing heat of the hearth. Jude moved to shuffle for it as the Doctor continued to speak, shaking his head. "There should be Glutaral around here somewhere, as for the latter well I suppose I'll have to pick some up later. Or sooner. How sour is your mood?"
His words were lightly teasing, laced with the familiarity of having worked for the man for awhile now. Jude wasn't afraid of rebuttal, or getting fired over his quick words. There weren't many others who would be willing to take his place, he was sure. Shrugging on his sweater, he turned to peer at the strange symbols on the pages that had been discarded. "Is it of any use, at least?"
He hadn't been wearing his sweater when he came in, but the temperature down in the depths of labs was still quite chilly for him, even with the pressing heat of the hearth. Jude moved to shuffle for it as the Doctor continued to speak, shaking his head. "There should be Glutaral around here somewhere, as for the latter well I suppose I'll have to pick some up later. Or sooner. How sour is your mood?"
His words were lightly teasing, laced with the familiarity of having worked for the man for awhile now. Jude wasn't afraid of rebuttal, or getting fired over his quick words. There weren't many others who would be willing to take his place, he was sure. Shrugging on his sweater, he turned to peer at the strange symbols on the pages that had been discarded. "Is it of any use, at least?"
sspky
ooof my bones
Still reclined on the couch, Dr. Shaw crossed one leg over the other and idly watched his assistant tidy up the study.
“No. It’s garbage, pure and simple,” he replied, one blunted fingernail tapping arrhythmically on the nearly empty glass in his left hand, “They think they can entice me with little samples of their ‘research’,” he waved his hands dramatically at the word, the whisky sloshing dangerously close to the rim at the glass, “They like to imagine they’ve someone uncover a secret that I have not. To think they have anything at all to contribute to my work -- laughable! Lunacy of the worst sorts.”
His ranting seemed to be picking up speed, and would surely continue to escalate if left uninterrupted. This was hardly unusual behaviour for the man. He tended to fall into a manic sort of excitement. Such moods were productive if tempted and pointed in the right direction.
“I almost preferred it when they were still offering me money, Mr. Fletcher.” he continued unabated, “That, at least, was unoffensive.”
“No. It’s garbage, pure and simple,” he replied, one blunted fingernail tapping arrhythmically on the nearly empty glass in his left hand, “They think they can entice me with little samples of their ‘research’,” he waved his hands dramatically at the word, the whisky sloshing dangerously close to the rim at the glass, “They like to imagine they’ve someone uncover a secret that I have not. To think they have anything at all to contribute to my work -- laughable! Lunacy of the worst sorts.”
His ranting seemed to be picking up speed, and would surely continue to escalate if left uninterrupted. This was hardly unusual behaviour for the man. He tended to fall into a manic sort of excitement. Such moods were productive if tempted and pointed in the right direction.
“I almost preferred it when they were still offering me money, Mr. Fletcher.” he continued unabated, “That, at least, was unoffensive.”
The Blue Adept
bleh
"Maybe they're flaunting their efforts," Jude offered in commentary, rummaging around the study for the practically drained whisky bottle, placing it down on the table beside Shaw idly. The man might as well finish it off, after all- then he'd feel more justified in running off to grab more. He himself was craving a glass of wine after the rather tiring day he had. A boring one, really.
It was generally boring until he arrived here, where the actual stuff that interested him occurred. As much as Doctor Shaw was a bit of a maniac, it was in a way that Jude did not shy from. And the findings, of course, never ceased to pull him back in. "Oh please- being a little offended is good for you, if spite is anything to off of, Doctor." he snorted offhandedly as he tossed a bit more wood into the burning hearth.
"On that note, shouldn't we be doing exactly that? What better than to make the next breakthrough while they're still struggling over unobtainable fantasies." Finally, he plopped into one of the empty chairs.
It was generally boring until he arrived here, where the actual stuff that interested him occurred. As much as Doctor Shaw was a bit of a maniac, it was in a way that Jude did not shy from. And the findings, of course, never ceased to pull him back in. "Oh please- being a little offended is good for you, if spite is anything to off of, Doctor." he snorted offhandedly as he tossed a bit more wood into the burning hearth.
"On that note, shouldn't we be doing exactly that? What better than to make the next breakthrough while they're still struggling over unobtainable fantasies." Finally, he plopped into one of the empty chairs.
sspky
ooof my bones
By now, a considerable amount of his depleting whisky stores seemed to be dripping down his left hand. He paused, knocked the rest of the glass back, and put it down heavily on the end table.
“A breakthrough. Yes, right. Of course,” he muttered, before yanking himself up off the couch. His spine crackled loudly as he stood and rolled his shoulders, “I’ve been considering the matter of bacterial infections, and the distressingly prevalent rate of decomposition on our recent...subjects.”
“I refuse to allow something as banal as common *rot* to thwart our efforts, Mr. Fletcher.” he was pacing now, the fingers of his right hand tapping thoughtfully at his lips, “But I believe I might of a solution and -- oh, where did that bottle go,” he took up the whisky Jude had discovered and shook the bottle, “-- here right, I might have a solution.”
After a moment of contemplation, he pivoted towards his assistant and said; “Say, would you care to dig up another body tonight?”
“A breakthrough. Yes, right. Of course,” he muttered, before yanking himself up off the couch. His spine crackled loudly as he stood and rolled his shoulders, “I’ve been considering the matter of bacterial infections, and the distressingly prevalent rate of decomposition on our recent...subjects.”
“I refuse to allow something as banal as common *rot* to thwart our efforts, Mr. Fletcher.” he was pacing now, the fingers of his right hand tapping thoughtfully at his lips, “But I believe I might of a solution and -- oh, where did that bottle go,” he took up the whisky Jude had discovered and shook the bottle, “-- here right, I might have a solution.”
After a moment of contemplation, he pivoted towards his assistant and said; “Say, would you care to dig up another body tonight?”
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