The World Begins

Prudentia

Prudentia

The Kitty Soldier
(In Progress...)


(Update: Due to issues with tagging, I had to make another post. Please, see below.)
 
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They told her it was raining outside, yet she couldn’t hear a single drop.
​


 
​


Even in the early mornings, it felt like something was missing despite how comfortable and peaceful it was down here. Supposedly all the making of prosthetics was done in the main public building, upstairs, in addition to the underground lab. The scientists easily informed their subjects this truth, but plenty was left blank and foggy. However, these people saved her life, along with everyone else in the room. Des had all her faith in them that they would continue to help her meet the goal of lifting some of the heaviest objects and hack the most secure of computers. She didn’t know why she would need this but she owed them for giving purpose back to her life.


At this time, at eight in the morning, she and a therapist were working on lifting weights. Sadly her legs were not as durable as her arms, since they lacked in everything prosthetic but the professionals pushed her, giving her various drugs to help with pain. Unfortunately, it could be a potential future to always carry around special drugs to forget the pain in her legs and other parts of her body so that she could put all the strain in her arms. SYE said the brain would eventually condition itself to remember that the arms could handle it all. This pain resistance was improving, for at first everything ached but now her arms and the technology were learning, like Des, to focus everything into them. The doctors and scientists suggested alternating work-outs where she sat or stood while lifting weights.


As she pulled down and slowly raised back up for reps, the weights clinked and dinged together, Des breathing slow and steady, droplets of sweat turning to streams down her forehead and neck. “We have about fifteen more reps left then we will move to your legs. The more your legs are strained, the better you can handle lifting in the case the technology forgets.”


“But eventually it won’t?”


“Yes, eventually…”


Others were here but the gym was large so the soldiers were spread out. The same room even had special showers for the different sexes; they were private and separated across from each other. There were even vending machines, each close to both of the bathrooms with healthy snacks and even sugary treats to provide quick energy and satisfy fierce hunger.


Clink…Ding. Clink…Ding. “Alright, move to your legs now at this machine.” The therapist always watched her closely, the lady never usually looking away from Des even when someone else addressed her – unless it was one of the Directors. Everyone in a room would listen and give all their attention when any one of them spoke. The Directors however had yet to come visit their subjects - maybe personally they did, before everyone came to the gym with their therapists and scientists. It has been months upon years for some of these young adults here, and Des felt no closer to assuming what was next. What was next?
 


@tane5naoki @CalamariHero @AngelOfTheMourning @ShadyAce @Eloell @Ender The Spider King


@Finalshine23 
 
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Hours. Nea had been awake for hours now, since about midnight. It was eight in the morning on Wednesday, but back home it was around three in the afternoon. Nea had not yet been able to adjust entirely to the new time zone. In the gym, a television was reporting on the current weather outside: rainy, not unlike her home. Being buried underground with no windows or direct contact to the outside world meant she couldn't even see or hear it though. Nea didn't even really like rain too much, but it would be heavily preferred over her current position. The ability to touch the gelid rain from home would be more than welcome.

What she would do on a normal rainy Wednesday, she doesn't know; She does know, however, that it would not involve a pinch grip test using a fake set of clawed appendages. There was a physician with her providing the equipment and writing down the pressure, presumably in pound units, as this was the United States. The physician had a dissatisfied look upon his face. Nea was inclined to ask what the problem was, as she had only been cooperative. Proceeding to grab her notepad, she wrote on one of the pages, "What is it?"

The physician looked up from his papers and promptly responded, "Well, The prosthesis on your neck is synthetic, so it has a maximum grip strength of about 132 pounds. That being said, you are only registering about 94 pounds. This isn't bad, per se. 94 pounds is more than enough to puncture the skin, but it does tell me that your nerves have a ways to go before they have healed completely. Your are still quite young, so it is possible for full recovery." The physician produced a coil of metal, much like a spring, with two handles, each with slots at the end, "This here is for strengthening one's grip. We made a slight modification by adding two slots. Using it with your prosthesis will help stimulate nerve growth. Do you perhaps want to try it?" He said, handing it to her. Nea responded with a face of slight awe; his request, the very scenario she was in felt surreal. She quickly scribbled "No." on her notepad facetiously before grabbing the grip strengthener. She fit her claws into the slots and gripped. Naturally, Nea didn't really feel anything; it was just a motion she was vaguely aware of. The physician gave a look of approval, "Now, be sure to keep that up and the strength should improve. Before our session concludes, we need to measure the amount of zinc and cobalt in your blood and do some cardiopulmonary exercise."

The physician produced an array of phlebotomy tools; needles, tubes vials. Nea held out her arm, observing the entire procedure. Needle made Nea a bit uncomfortable, but she had to watch, even if instructed to do otherwise. In total, the physician drew about 15 ml of blood; three vials. "Work on you grip while I send these off to the lab." The physician had left, leaving that one command. She cooperated reluctantly; Nea was very distrusting of the facility after their use of misdirection. She was no by herself, and Nea had spent the entire time focused on the physician, but now that he had left, she began to look more around the room. There were several soldiers, each one very different from the next. Nobody looked dissatisfied with their new life. Perhaps one day, Nea would come to terms with hers. Perhaps.
 
The sound of the wind outside his helmet was deafening to Jeremey as he hit the gas on his bike and took a sharp turn. He smiled as he heard the cars pursuing him careen past the turn, their tires squealing on the wet pavement. He ventured a glance behind him, and saw he had lost all but one of the vehicles chasing him. It was no problem though. Moving fast his hand reached out and grabbed the gun holstered to his leg, and he squeezed out a few shots, seeing a few satisfying sparks appear on the grill of the car, causing the driver to panic and spin out of control, flipping the vehicle over and skidding to a halt on its hood.


Jeremey slid to a halt and jumped off his bike, setting it down on the kickstand. He reloaded his gun, walking towards the driver side of the flipped car. "Tell your employer I said hi." He said, pointing the gun at the man's head. 


The man, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, turned to Jeremey and said, "BEEP...BEEP...BEEP!!" The blaring alarm forcing him to place his hands over his ears, but it didn't curb the sound. "BEEP...BEEP...BEEP!!" He ran from the car, trying to get away from the sound, but it followed him wherever he went. "BEEP...BEEP...BEEP!!" He jumped over a bench, and then slipped in the ran and landed heavily on the pavement. He groaned, his whole body aching. "BEEP...BEEP...BEEP!!" He rolled over onto his back and...


Woke up from his dream. Jeremey sat straight up, looking around the room, confused as to where he was, only after a few seconds did he realize he was still in his room in the lab. He breathed out a sigh of relief, remembering the beeping sound he looked to his alarm clock, reached over and shut it off. 6AM, same time...wait, 8AM? He had overslept!


He jumped out of the bed onto his feet, suddenly dizzy from the effort as his breath was coming in gasps. He gripped the edge of his bed as he tried to get his breath back. He had been forgetting simple things ever since he was able to move again, such as his Zero stamina, but he had to get ready. All the scientists would already be up, and several of the other subjects would be up as well. He was the youngest, and though he had only recently been on bed rest for his major surgery, he didn't want any of them to think he was slacking. He shuffled to the dresser where his clothes were kept, pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then read the weather report for the day, realizing it was going to be rainy. He bit his lip, wishing he could go out into the rain, he hadn't been outside at all since he was 5 years old. The one thing he wanted to do was go out and feel the rain on his skin.


Alas, there was work to be done. He opened his door and closed it behind him, shuffling as quickly as his sore body would allow him. The last few weeks had been particularly grueling for him. He was allowed off his bed and to begin training with everyone else. It was especially difficult, as he was working muscles that hadn't moved on their own volition in 10 years. The smallest weights were unbearable to him, and he couldn't even make it a few minutes on the treadmill at a brisk walk. Giving up, though, wasn't an option. He owed these scientists everything, without them, nor the Stairway Spinal Cord in his back he would still be laying in a hospital somewhere, completely paralyzed. He had much to be grateful for.


He walked into the cafeteria, seeing a few different people in white coats eating and drinking when he suddenly felt something heading in his direction. It was so difficult a feeling to understand. He reacted to things he wasn't even aware he was aware of, his senses working together so quickly and harmoniously that he was able to flinch away from the orange sailing towards his head without even seeing it. It didn't hit him, as it had done everyday previous to this, and instead fell right past him and rolled away on the ground.


With a smile he turned to the person who threw the fruit at him, seeing Dr. Wyllard, who was furiously scratching something away in a notebook he always carried on him. "Did you see that, Doctor?" Jeremey said, "It didn't hit me today!" His excitement was palpable, and he turned to some of the other scientists in the room to see if anyone else noticed. People turned at the sound of his voice, but no one said a thing, and when he looked in their direction they looked away hurriedly.


"I'll know the Stairway is being used to its full potential," he said, "When you catch it, PT2179."


Jeremey smiled at the name, knowing how formal Dr. Wyllard could be, "I'll catch it tomorrow." He said.


"If your previous trends are to be believed," The Doctor said, putting away his notebook and walking away towards the elevators that would take him to his office. "You won't catch the ball for another 4 weeks."


"I'll make it two then." Jeremey said with a laugh, realizing he was still the only one paying attention to the conversation still.


The elevators doors closed, separating the two. Jeremey shrugged and walked over to the servers, getting his breakfast ready to consume.
 
Elliot stepped into the gym and was greeted by a rolling orange that strolled right up to him and tapped his shoe. His eyes dropped to the fruit, and instead of finding its owner he plucked it off the ground, rolled it in his hand for a curious second, and then sunk his metal teeth into its side. His gaze flickered up and to the young boy as he slowly chewed the orange and its peel, and he inwardly criticized the scientists for making him a human garbage disposal without bothering to kill his taste buds. Seriously, had they ever had to eat a dead rodent? Yeah, a dead rodent. That had been his experimental 'exercise' this morning. Seriously--the girl over there had sweet metal hands, and that other one had...well, she looked like a bug...and this kid? He probably had something gnarly like super speed. They all got to do cool things like lift weights, complete obstacle courses, yada yada yada...while Elliot was over here cutting up a dead rat's body with a knife and fork. Talk about a lousy breakfast. 


"You look fun." He murmured to the kid as he passed him, a small piece of peel flying out of his mouth with the 'f'. He made a guilty face and then took another bite, continuing his beeline towards the woman he had glimpsed when he first entered. He'd never seen her before...he was certain he would have remembered her. She made him think of an insect. Elliot liked bugs. They were his favorite to eat.


Instead of doing the polite (and appropriate thing) by walking up to her and making an introduction, Elliot sunk onto a weight bench behind the woman with claws and began doing sit ups off the side of it. Aside from practicing by consuming odd things, Elliot had been given a rigorous workout regiment. His innards were so much heavier than they had been when they were made of flesh that it was necessary for him to be extremely toned (especially his abs). So the situps were a good idea. They also helped him watch her, because every time he came up his eyes immediately flew to her, wide-eyed, marveling at those shiny claws. 


"Praying Mantis..." He didn't even realize he whispered it. 


@tane5naoki @CalamariHero
 
After using the grip strengthener for a few minutes, she set it down on the table, waiting for the physician to come back; she was perfectly fine with 94 pounds. '94 pounds... what is that, like 42, 43 kilograms? That's like if someone put all of their weight on a needle. 94 pounds is fine...'. Blood tests like his usually took a while, so he probably wouldn't come back with the results. She felt awkward just sitting there, and began considering to just start her cardio, but the physician wanted to watch her breathing, so she'd probably get an earful. She began to click her claws together, much like how someone would twiddle their thumbs. She was watching the people around her, exercising and lifting weights. Some looked normal, and largely unaffected, while other had evidently mechanical limbs. Beyond the long-hair, young man immediately behind her, everyone was well spread out. That fellow looked vaguely familiar; she hadn't been here as long as most, so she hadn't remembered who everyone was. Like some of the people she had seen, He didn't have an apparent prosthesis. Nea was aware that some people had synthetic organs, and pondered on that thought for a moment. 

She returned to her position, waiting for her physician, until she heard a voice, a whisper among the clatter of metal weights behind her. 'Did he just say "praying mantis"?' She was not entirely sure of what was said. Nea pulled out her pen and scribbled the phrase "What did you say?" onto her notepad in red ink. She held it up facing the young man and cocked her head to the side with an inquisitive look on her face. She couldn't certainly say that what he had said was rude or even directed at her, it was just a strange thing to say. And, if it had been directed at her, it was pretty justifiable after all: She did have a pair of claws right beneath her jaw.

@Eloell
 
Adrian started to awaken, he was blinking a lot as he woke up he stretched his arms wide and yawned.He turned over and looked up at the ceiling"Clock" his eyes projected an image of a clock on the wall and he saw it was eight o'clock his eyes opened wide as he never usually woke up this early.the mood around the place felt empty.He got up  out of his bed and tied a drag around his head and put on some shorts and a tank top.


As he was walking to the cafeteria he passed the gym and saw several people working out he looked at his biceps "I'm good" he walked to the cafeteria and got some breakfast there were many scientists eating around him and he felt uneasy around some of them still.He looked around at the rest of the people like him and surveyed them.He was done eating a long time ago so he started to whistle and watch others as they entered and exit he was getting bored so he left.


He went to the gas chamber where two scientists were standing waiting for him he looked at them questionably "your late "they said he looked at them confused" I didn't know when to come he said as he walked into the chamber.He sat on the chair "HUD on" he put thumbs up and all the oxygen was sucked from the room and carbon dioxide and other toxins were pumped into it after about 17 mins his HUDstarted to flash red and he waved his hands, he expected the co2 to be sucked out of the room but they stood there watching him smiling he walked to the door and started to bang on the door. Then on the speakers, he was told they are trying to see his limit. After about 5 mins his HUD started to flash red much faster and it increased in speed and his eyes automatically found the nearest exit "Vents" he jumped and tried to get out through the vents but they were sealed tight. Then a message appeared o the screen and he was told his lung had failed. He fell to the floor and almost passed out then the scientists pumped oxygen back into the room and walked in hysterically laughing they dragged him out and drained his lungs with a tube down his throat.Now they sent him to the gym to work on the treadmills.As he was leaving he looked back and stuck up the middle finger to the two scientists while they were still laughing.
 
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[SIZE=14.6667px]“Excellent Kingfisher, this is of course a theoretical exercise. But please try that again with a bit more force.” [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Ray rolled his eyes and offered a vague wave of his hand to the disembodied voice drifting from vaguely above him. The human shaped training dummy in front of him was a fairly impressive piece of equipment, modeled to be anatomically correct in crafting with major organs and bones in their proper places and representing accurate density and durability. If the Dr. telling him as much hadn’t been enough, he could affirm the truth of the claims due to his combat experience. He knew what it felt like to break a man’s neck, though previously he would have needed the assistance of some object to accomplish. That wasn’t the case anymore. Now, what exactly he needed to be snapping necks for was a mystery, but typically the nervous doctor provided some bullshit explanation. A practical exercise, theoretical testing, whatever.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]The dark haired young man ignored the sounds all around him in the gym, his mind solely honed in on the the back of the dummy’s head. Three swift steps forward, a quick snatch, his palms placed under the jaw and on the side of the temple on the opposite side, and a resounding snap. “Oh the force on that was incredible. Very well done Raymond. Your physical strength may not be able to compete with a prosthetic but your sheer speed and skill should make you far more versatile that many of the...well I suppose that’s enough observation for one day please continue working on your reflexes…” [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]Dr Machado’s voice followed him out of the isolated section of the gym but Ray was done listening. The older man’s voice was grating after so much exposure to it and quite frankly Raymond didn’t fear any consequence of not obliging him. After all, it was becoming clear that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]His gaze flicked here and there about the room, noting other faces, some seeming as wary as his own while others were fully absorbed in whatever they were doing. False limbs, pincers and enhancements he couldn’t even see. They’ve got quite the fucking freak show. [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]His thoughts moved rapidly about what exactly this could all mean. He was alive because of these men and he would bet money the same went for the others. Or at least they owed them something. Strange things like this, it was like being in the military again but more so. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]He eyed the clock on the wall and found he didn’t care if it was raining. Before his mysterious benefactors twisted his and Shane’s arm to get him here, he’d been ready to die. Apathetic, exhausted and ready for a rest. Instead, he was here in these sterile rooms with his body producing its own drugs as far as he understood. [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]Whatever the case, he was already feeling restless and thus decided to climb on a treadmill. Maybe he should have been social, but the idea of approaching any of them irked him. Right now, he was going to run. [/SIZE]
 
Even despite being filled with other bodies and moving machines, the gym was still rather peaceful compared to other parts of the laboratory, and open. She could overhear a little bit of two starting to converse, though she was aware the girl named Nea was not granted that ability to speak since her tragic accident. The girl now had no power to speak and things out of her neck. No wonder another boy was so intrigued by her – Des couldn’t help watching the two for a moment then glanced back over as the scientist lady had handed her a couple pills, “Take these and start lifting on the free weight bars with the heaviest you can do.”  Des sighed and nodded, tossing the two pills down and swallowing them plain and dry. Her eyes squinted a bit, as if it was painful but more so the taste bothered her.


“I will be back in a few minutes.” The scientist lady stated then stood up and packed up her briefcase of folders and papers, then left the young girl to her exercises.  Her brown eyes slowly caught sight of the free weight bars; soon enough, she was sitting on the bench, a little closer to the other two – Nea and Elliot, she thought she remembered their names. However, she didn’t make a sound. With hands gripped tight around the bar and her knees bent so she stand in a squat, Des breathed in a few times slowly: in and out, in and out, her lips let light breath through the opening while her eyes closed gently and her mind tried to focus. Wait! She didn’t want her mind to feel the pain. The pills were to help with the pain and the aftershock of it all, but her training meant to avoid the use of pills in the future, and to train her brain to block out all the strain in her muscles. It was her arms that needed to take it all, just as she was told from the very beginning.


Let them collect every bit of what you feel. They can take it. One day, they will handle anything.
​


After a few reps and hard huffs, she set the weights down and looked over to another boy that had come over to the treadmills. She may have heard all their names before but she had not spoken to them much. Often, the only people each patient conversed with were their specific team, never a fellow patient. She figured she might as well break that norm – why not?  “Is your body adapting?” Her voice was smooth, and often cracked on random words but it none-the-less was steady and calm. As she watched him for a moment, her fingers began to click against each other, as if trying to scrape underneath fingernails to clean them from underneath.


@AngelOfTheMourning
 
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Elliot was persistently nonchalant with his sit ups, even puckering his lips for two beats to whistle a quick tune. There was nothing extraordinary about him being here, so close to the mantis lady, eyes glued to her form every time he came up. That was how he suddenly found her to be holding a pad with words scribbled on it. Instead of moving to read it right away he lifted a finger and breathed,


"Six more." In actuality, he hadn't been counting, but it did him well to let her think that he had been. That way the slip of his tongue, which he was realizing she had likely heard, might be a bit more excusable. Or he could lie his way out of it. What else sounded like praying mantis? The extra sit ups gave him an opportunity to think about it. When he finished, he whipped a towel off a nearby bench--whoever it belonged to--and slapped it onto his neck as he plopped down directly beside the bug woman, hardly acknowledging personal space or the fact that they were strangers. His blue eyes took full advantage of the up close and personal view of her neck prosthetic, and his lips even parted in awe. That's when he remembered the pad. He reached down to catch a corner of it between his thumb and forefinger reading it out loud,


"What...did...you...say?" He looked up at her then down to the pad again. "You can't speak?" He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, as if he were going to laugh, but he didn't. Instead his eyebrows raised and he suddenly looked a little pissed. "They took your vocal chords? Aw hell no, that's just wrong." Elliot was oblivious to the fact that most of the other people in this gym were here because they had lost something in order to qualify for their surgeries. Unlike them, Elliot had just been a fat dude. Nothing too exciting there. 


"Wait, are you deaf too? Do I need to write?" He held up his hand and mimed himself writing, forming his words slowly so she could read his lips. He then shook his head again and hummed three disappointed notes. "Madame, you got screwed. Look at me. I was a fat ass before they switched up my inside with metal. Even my butthole is magnetic." He grinned at that. He wasn't speaking slowly for her to read his lips anymore, moreso just chatting because he liked to talk and this place could be pretty lonely. "But you? They gave your neck claws. It's like...humorous in a sick way. Was this really the best cosmetic job they could do?" He reached out to touch them.


@CalamariHero
 
Jeremey got his food and sat down with it. He had been used to slop at the hospital he had lived at before, so the quality food they served in the laboratories was like heaven to him. He tucked in with gusto, scarfing down eggs and turkey bacon before drinking the juice they had given him. He smiled and sat at the table for a second. He had a long day ahead of him, he was going to need all the strength he could get. He stood up, deposited his tray in the designated area, and then walked into the gym.


He had mixed feelings about the gym. He had spent the last 10 years being unable to move, and would often see people on T.V. at gyms, a place to go to move around and exercise. He always felt jealousy that they could do that. What he had never realized was that exercise hurt. He struggled to lift the smallest weights, he got winded at a brisk walk, and worst of all he always had someone around to witness his shame at not being able to keep up with anyone else in the gym. As he walked out, one of the scientists who usually watched him walked over and said, "Good morning, Mr. Blythe. I'm to begin you today on a different schedule than normal, something to work different muscle group than yesterday. We're to begin with bench presses. The bar we have here weighs 20lbs, and Dr. Wyllard wants 10 reps out of you first thing." She was very matter-of-fact, with no hint of emotion in her voice, making Jeremey wish that some of the doctors and scientists from his surgery and recovery time were here. They were more friendly.


He lays down on the bench, and one of the assistants comes over, and helps spot him. That's also embarrassing, to need spotted on just the bar. He grabs the metal bar and lifts it up, feeling the immediate strain on his arms and shoulders. With a whimper he brings it down, the Assistant tells him to breath out, so he complies and pushes it back up. Over and over he repeats these movements, until his arms feel like jelly and he knows he can't go on.


"I'm done," He says, "I can't do anymore."


"That was only eight, Mr. Blythe, two more." The scientist replies, barely looking up from her tablet.


"But..."


"No but, if you want to get stronger, you have to listen to the doctor," The assistant says with a smile. "You can do it, Jeremey, push them out."


His positivity made Jeremey feel better, and he weakly brings the bar down, and pushes it back up, grunting "9." The assistant smiles and says, "One more man!"


Jeremey brings the bar down, and his elbows begin to shake for just a brief second, and he hears, "You got this." He nods and pushes the bar back up for the final time. The aide cheers for him and brings the bar back onto the rack, patting him on his shoulder, "Way to go man!"


"You may leave now," The scientist says to the aide. "Jeremey, time for the treadmill." The aide looks confused, and walks away, while Jeremey watches him go sadly, wishing the guy could stick around and help him.


-----------------------------------------


Watching from behind a window, Dr. Wyllard saw the entire exchange. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, typing a quick email about the incident, and informing Human Resources to get rid of the Aide. He couldn't have anyone forming an attachment with PT2179. The boy wasn't here to make friends.
 
Early morning, Wednesday, train. That was about the bulk of information Robin managed to get from the lady who'd approached her, who quickly scurried off after scribbling something on her notepad. Oh, and she told Robin the weather. The slim girl's mind lingered on the though of the rain or storm outside. She'd always loved such things, and missed the feeling of experiencing them often. Quickly she shook off the sensation, as she had a debt to pay - a life's worth, nothing less. 


Robin would be dead, or, at least leading a crappy life if it weren't for them.


Nonetheless, she had to train to pay them back, that was what she was told. Thinking about the outside world wouldn't help her get out there, but training would. Tucked in her back pocket was the training schedule for the day, which Robin was always given because she'd always forget what she had to do, innocently, of course. She plucked it out and scanned over the next instruction, which stated she had to climb on monkey bars situated above a foam pit, then swing down into the gymnast apparatus of uneven bars. Quickly shoving it back, Robin climbed up to the bars. All she hoped is that she was strong enough to hold herself dangling up there.



Robin's prosthetic parts are all hidden within her, and unfortunately didn't add to her strength in any way. And she was pretty weak to begin with. Her latest surgery replaced the ligaments in her arms, so she had to practice using them in acrobatics and test their flexibility, since both of those things is what the prosthetic is designed to do. Although, she powered through the bars with surprising success. Robin reached the end of the bars, and starred down at the uneven bars she had to swing down to. They weren't far away, yet it still scared her, just a little. But, her hands were sweating ferociously, and her grip was weakening, so she didn't have time to hang there any longer. She also noticed that someone quickly ran over, frantically writing as Robin prepared to jump off. 


She dove forward through the air, and wind whistled past her ears in a intensifying way. Robin had her arms stretched out, and grasped onto the bar. She could've sworn her arms became slightly longer to absorb the energy, which they probably did. Maybe the ligaments could extend a little bit? It was if she knew, or cared, really. As long as they did what they had to and made sure she didn't die, of course. The woman scribbled more down, and watched Robin. 


After swinging around the bar about once, Robin's hand slipped, slinging her across the room like a ragdoll. That was when the lady scurried off elsewhere, clearly with better things to do, or she didn't want to get in trouble. How thoughtful. Abruptly, Robin slammed into something, and stopped. 


"Shit... of course I stuffed up." Robin muttered on her breath, almost certain no one could hear it. Then, glancing up, she remembered luck was, truly, never on her side. Robin had crashed straight into a scientist, who'd been leading another patient forward to a treadmill. And she wasn't in a position that looked natural, so to speak. Her leg was behind her head, and her arm was tied in between somehow. It wasn't as if she could see herself, or knew what she could do, so she honestly had no idea. It wouldn't start her on a good foot, that was for sure.


"Uh... hi. I-I'm sorry about that..." She hastily untangled herself as one might untangle a pair of earphones, and stood up. Robin was slightly taller than the boy the scientist was leading, and quite clearly older, by how much she was oblivious to. She gave an awkward laugh, followed by a doubtful smile, as she hugged herself in an insecure fashion.


@tane5naoki
 
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Nea had sat for a decent period of time, waiting for a response. It was very evident that the fellow had noticed the notepad, presenting a finger, telling her to wait. She sat there, patiently, holding her notepad and waiting for him to finish his sit-ups. Nea was understanding; he was busy, but when he finished, Nea only watched as he walked away, grabbed a towel, and sat much closer than necessary. She gave him a confused look, watching as he gawked at her.

Finally, after a fairly long wait, Elliot had read her notepad -- aloud, that is. His response was... less than useful, she had felt. He had only provided what she felt, was an irrelevant, though somewhat reasonable question. Nea was about to write an answer to his questions, but he had proceeded to talk more, dominating the conversation before she had time to write out a well thought response. While he was talking, Nea began to write out a lengthy response in a list format, addressing everything he was talking about. "A.) Correct, I can't talk; B.) They were going to fix my voice, but it didn't work with my prosthesis, so they removed them to aid my breathing; damn straight, it is wrong." 

Suddenly, Nea noticed he began speaking slowly. Looking up from her notepad, she noticed that he was miming; he was making a gesture that was likely representing writing. She shook her head, ducking down to her notepad once more, "C.) No, I am not deaf." She listened as he talked about his own replacements, with which Nea simply wrote the acronym, "TMI", or "Too much information", on her notepad apart from the list. When Nea had realized that Elliot was reaching out to her neck, she proceeded to bring her pencil up, pressing the eraser against his finger, intercepting his approach. She pulled her claws in closer, bracing them against her neck. Bringing her pencil back down, she wrote on final line, "Don't touch." Nea then proceeded to tear away the page, holding it out for Elliot.

@Eloell
 
Damn that pencil's interception. He had been so close too, and his fingertips itched to get a quick feelskie. Elliot pursed his lips in an exaggerated pout, then sighed and let the face drop. 


"Some other time, then." He murmured it flippantly, and it might have been considered a threat by a paranoid person or a proposal for friendship by a confident individual. Whichever he truly meant would remain a mystery. It was an unfortunate thing for this girl that she wrote so slowly. She'd never be able to keep up in a conversation with someone like Elliot--someone with many thoughts and many things to say and no time to sit patiently and wait for her scribbles. He snapped his fingers.


"Lady--eh what was your name?--you should ask these scientists to give you a typing device that speaks the words you type. I'm sure your thumbs can maneuver such a device quicker than your hand can drag that writing thing across your notepad. And, the notepad is bulky. And, your handwriting could improve." He gifted her with a friendly smile, eyes dropping to her claws. He'd never be able to look at her without looking at them. They were so unnatural and distracting. She could never blend in with a crowd. Seriously, why had they done that? These experiments were supposed to help them live normal lives (along with saving the world or whatever nonsense they'd been told). The girl with metal hands he could understand--she'd lost her own and those were her replacements. But claws sticking out of your neck? Elliot would have to have a word with someone with a clipboard. 


"Also, I'm Elliot. And I'm very glad I met you." He nodded, finally fixing his gaze on her eyes, the sincerity of his words showing in his expression and his stare. The focused look only lasted a moment, and then it fell once more to her neck, to those claws. It was like they were looking at him. Oh man did he want to touch them. 


Commotion from another part of the gym drew his attention away, and he watched a woman untangle herself like a living pretzel. A grin spread across his face as he whispered,


"Nice."

@CalamariHero 
 
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[SIZE=14.6667px]Raymond was surprised when the girl spoke to him. His resting expression wasn’t exactly a pleasant and most of the interaction he’d had thus far had either lead to nurses getting fired. Or had been Machado’s grating voice. He studied her for a moment, not breaking his jog. It felt effortless really. His body knew what to release so he didn’t even feel any soreness. He intended to get into a true run soon, but in the meantime he supposed he could spare a few minutes to talk to her. She was a pretty young thing, the delicate look about her only accented by the heavy duty prosthesis that made up her lower arms. He eyed them somewhat enviously because they were cool [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]and the work they’d done for him was hidden inside him, [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]He decided to answer her. “Yeah. Before I was sick I could do all of these things. Now I can just do them better. If that makes any sense. What about you? You’re doing some heavy lifting.” It was nice, to have as normal a conversation as possible in a place like this. He flicked his gaze across the room and couldn’t help but snort. It was such a strange mix of misfits. None of them looked like they would have been especially normal before all this, with the exception of the girl he was now speaking to and the girl with the sleek claws on her throat. Speaking of, she seemed to be engaged with what appeared to be something of an awkward conversation using a notebook. “I bet you anything that guy used to be a fucking weirdo.” He commented. He doubted very much this sweet looking girl enjoyed being an ass as much as he did, but he hadn’t had a chance to gossip in entirely too long. “He’s pretty now, but that’s school shooter material right there.” [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]He glanced back at her and offered a wicked little smirk. “Thoughts?” [/SIZE]


@Prudentia
 
Jeremey tried not to laugh at the Scientist going down so hard, but it was difficult. The she seemed to be okay, dazed and confused about what had just happened, but not seriously hurt. She stood up and excused herself, just as a bit of blood began to drip from her scalp. She ran in the direction of the infirmary.


"Hi," Jeremey said, "Nice of you to drop in." He said with a causal smile. This would be the first time he had really gotten to talk to any of the other subjects. "How did your leg do that? Is it a prosthetic?"


@ShadyAce


[[sorry if it's a little short, I just don't have much time, and I didn't want to make you wait any longer for my response.]]
 
(Sorry to post here like this! I will get my response in tomorrow. Sorry for the delay I had meetings and birthday parties this week. Thanks for your patience!)
 
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“I couldn't have ever dreamed of lifting what I can now. The doctors and scientists say I can handle even more than what my limit is currently. It's hard to believe them, though, since it still hurts.” Desnielle glanced to Raymond for a bit then looked to the man and girl he focused on now – she couldn’t agree on that man being the only weirdo – in fact, most of them, including herself, could have been outcasts. Isn’t that why the world hated them after their accidents, because they were worthless and out of place? To Des, she was no different than that man or the girl or anyone in the room.


She grunted then looked at the weights nearby her feet, “I suppose he isn’t anymore. Though, I could care less how pretty he is. Do you think looks will save you?” Des asked honestly as she stood up then flexed her fingers in and out a few times, hearing the many “ligaments” and “muscles” of the arms hiss and grind together. There were sounds of all sorts surrounding her, unfamiliar and quite frightening – no one here was yet considered a friend and this was her first time holding full conversation with someone other than a government official. Maybe she chose the wrong conversation partner?


“May I ask what happened to you? How did they save you – if that’s what we can call it.” Her lips pursed together and her eyes looked him over just briefly, noticing not a change in his figure that stood out like hers or the girl with the claws. Most of the patients seemed to get lucky with near invisible prosthetics but Des believed they could have been suffering more from the inside.


“Doctor Machado, Doctor Wyllard, and Doctor Greenspan, please make your way to the council room. A meeting is needed before debrief with the patients.” Dr. Ewan’s silky French voice echoed through the hallway from one of the nearby intercom speakers outside of the gym. The scientists and doctors that were not addressed continued their conversations or duties as needed. Did this mean something was finally going to be explained? Des hadn’t heard their names all together before across the intercom – her curiosity always hurt her mind, especially since she was urging to see the outside world once again. Don’t bother with thinking too hard, just focus on this long haired beauty king before you.







@AngelOfTheMourning  @tane5naoki  @CalamariHero
 
Dr. Wyllard rolled his eyes and sat down the papers he had been looking at. He hated the trivialities of working for the government, these meetings always got in the way of his research and projects. He looked to the assistant standing nearby, and pointed at the papers, a silent order for her to retrieve them and take them to his office. Once things got underway, hopefully such useless meetings would be no longer required to attend. He muttered under his breath as he entered the Council room, finding his seat as quickly as he could, avoiding contact with anyone else in the room.
 
“I suppose he isn’t anymore. Though, I could care less how pretty he is. Do you think looks will save you?” Ray’s brows moved up on his forehead and in the same instant his lips curled up into a smile. “Not as sweet as you look, are you?”  He upped the speed on the treadmill and eyed himself in one of the long mirrors the ran parallel to some of the equipment. “Being pretty can get you far in life. Always got me farther into trouble than anything else but I doubt that would be different for me if I was ugly.” He decided. And that was true. Looking the way he did exposed him to more than he should have been able to handle as a kid, as if growing up on a reservation with two alcoholic parents wasn’t hard enough. But he’d thrived at sex, at drawing attention. Hell, at one time he could have been a model if he’d been able to stop drinking long enough to apply himself.


“May I ask what happened to you? How did they save you – if that’s what we can call it.”  Now that was the question of the hour. He eyed the girl’s arms again. Her enhancement was obvious. “Cancer.” A flash of his own reflection, gaunt and skeletal. He’d wanted to die so badly. “Spread to all of my lymph nodes through the blood. They chemoed the problem away and then replaced all of my hormone makers, from what I get anyway. They haven’t exactly been clear.” Machado could barely get out a sentence without stuttering over his vague reassurances. Ray rolled his shoulder into a shrug. “Either way, mostly I just want to get sloshed.” He chuckled and then pushed the button again. He ran faster, harder but he was barely out of breath yet, pretty incredible really.


/////


Machado jumped a little when he heard the intercom, despite having heard it a thousand times before. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and swiftly finished up the last few notes on Kingfisher’s success in the gym today. He didn’t care for these ‘council meetings’. Really, he usually felt rather intimidated by the others on top of preferring to work along. But, they were an important part of his funding and the overall success of the project. He inspected himself in the reflection of his computer, then slipped back into his lab coat before heading out of the door.



He crossed the compound with ease, offering nods and smiles to any familiar faces. He had a reputation for being a bit easier to swallow than some of the other high ups, and he intended to keep it that way. Being intimidating did nothing but isolate and isolation hindered progress in such a bureaucratic world. He flashed his ID card then entered the meeting room, taking a seat near the front.


@Prudentia
 
Robin cautiously eyed the scientist quickly run off. The official had excused themselves as they had got up, prior to Robin apologizing. She couldn't help but grimace as she saw some crimson liquid drip from her head, when she was inching closer to the infirmary. Whether that disapproval was directed to herself or not, she personally didn't know. It was there, nonetheless. Although the boy had certainly helped to lighten the mood before Robin could let the guilt settle in. Hastily, she directed her attention to him. 


"Yeah, uh, hello." she replied, as she glanced over to the bar she'd fallen off of. "It could've been more graceful. I'll need to work on that..." she trailed off, before looking back at the person she was meant to be talking to. If she was right, this was the first time she'd talked to another patient on her own accord, rather than a scientist or anyone whom she had to talk to officially. "Oh, yeah. I have prosthetic ligaments, so I guess I become flexible. That's all I could really get from all the scientist's talk. Do you have any prosthetics?" She was generally interested, but still a little unsure about talking to someone. Robin thought her prosthetics were quite exceptional, but she wanted to know what other people had been given. Perhaps it was in an attempt to fully understand the extent of skill these scientists and doctors had in their fields.  Robin also wanted to know how far behind she was in the ways of learning to use and harness her prosthetic body parts, but she already knew she wasn't all that skilled at the present.


After a short pause on her end, Robin realized she hadn't even introduced herself. "My bad, I'm Robin Middleton, nineteen. It's good to know someone outside of those who study me." she meekly stuck out her hand, and smiled warmly. "And you are?" yet, out of habit, her other hand went to fiddling with a strand of hair.


@tane5naoki
 
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Jeremey brightened up at someone talking to him like he was an actual person, instead of a lab right. "I'm Jeremey!" He said excitedly, turning to show her his back, "I've got a prosthetic spine!" He pulled up the back of his shirt so she could see the scars lining his back from the base of his skull to his tailbone. "I was paralyzed for 10 years, and Dr. Wyllard fixed it in a week! I'm 15 years old and I'm very glad to meet someone else." His eyes were bright, and cheeks flush. It had been a while since he had spoken to anyone around his age, especially a girl.


"They tell me that not only did the new spine fix my paralyzation, once I rebuild my muscles I will have super fast reaction times, like I was a super hero!" With one hand he rubbed the back of his head, feeling the area the access port was hidden in his hairline. "The staff used to be a lot nicer, but there were a bunch of new hires, and I haven't seen any of my old friends since my recovery." He said with a disappointed look on his face. It's pretty obvious he'll keep rambling unless he's stopped.


@ShadyAce
 
Elliot found himself unable to take his eyes off the girl with strangely colored hair who had done a terrific thing with her body. Terrifically freaky, that is. There was no way she had metal organs like him. But he really wanted to know what made her tick (or bend). A mischievous smile turned his lips and and he told the girl he was talking to--he was talking, she was writing--


"Hold on a sec." Without waiting for her response, because she seriously took too long to write, he rose to his feet and carried himself across the gym, past the people on the treadmill--was the fellow long-haired man watching him?--and right up to the girl and the young boy who was chatting with her. 


"I've got a shiny anus." Is how he entered into their conversation, leading with a form of greeting you might say...


@ShadyAce @tane5naoki
 
Elliot was his name, she had learned. Despite being quite talkative he was rather nice -- and a bit too focused on her claws. She was writing slowly; her mind checked out, thinking about the kind of stress the weight of his prosthetic would put on his body. She was also thinking about his idea of requesting a machine that turns text to speech. While she was lost in thought, she wasn't really writing, only had a half written sentence was scribbled down, "It was nice to meet you, " and about that time, she noticed Elliot leaving with a grin on his face. Fair enough, Nea had stopped writing. She thought for a moment, largely about how she should focus more on responding quickly, and focusing less on the structure of her responses -- that is what was surely slowing her down. "It was nice to meet you Elliot. My name is Nea." She finished, before watching Elliot's graceful introduction. 


Not long after Elliot left, the physician that was with her returned. Naturally, the blood results weren't in yet; she would have to get them a bit later in the day. "Are you ready for your CPET?" The physician inquired. Nea responded with a prompt nod. "See you around." She added to the sheet of paper, tearing it away and leaving it on the table as she left with the physician.


@Eloell


---


Greenspan was working on a document related to the mechanisms currently in use and future plans in the event of failure when the intercom turned on, calling for a conference. She wrote a few final sentence before rising from her desk and marching off to the meeting room. While crossing the compound, she made little eye contact with anyone in the halls, maintaining a cold and strictly professional attitude.

Upon reaching the conference room, she displayed her ID card and entered, taking a seat at the very end of the room. She wasn't particularly interested in the meeting, and was more focused on other tasks at hand, such as decreasing and potential mechanical failures that may still persist in the installed machinery.



@Prudentia
 
She didn't want to go further into the conversation about appearances, and she wouldn't. Des rarely took care in such a task of prepping herself, especially since she was only around doctors and scientists - and a few other messed up folks. Ray's absurdity made her shake her head and chew on her bottom lip. Often, there was that one who was so open with their body that it really did benefit them. She thought many times she heard of scientists being fired and dropped from the program because of some "sleezy patient". That phrase she heard often but it wasn't from anyone high up in the ranks, just some hear and there scientists and therapisto. It seemed those who wasted time were literally a waste of time - no one joked hear, or if they did, would be cut from this place.


Thankfully, she felt comfortable enough to be herself, though often never spoke to anyone else, like Ray. It was pleasant but maybe not necessarily this very convo. "So do you even know your abilities?" Oddly enough, she didn't know her limits but knew what she could potentially do. Still not why...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"I'm sure you all were in the middle of a task but I called you here to say we have the green light. And we have our first mission..." Syora slid over a thin navy green folder to each doctor, a large red "Mission Report" diagonally stamped on its cover. "However, there are some in the government that do not believe our soldiers are ready. I have to agree with them that we must learn what they can do for each other and with each other on a more simpler mission. This one is an extraction mission but they made it clear that we shall not allow witnesses nor prisoners. The place they are taking information from is a lab further into the city that has been rumored trying to recreate our technology and program. There's fear that this lab could be making soldiers of their own. We need our soldiers to remove all equipment and data of their progress..." She started, then paused to let anyone else chime in as they read through the various notes and details within the folder.
 
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