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Post by Winters on Sept 9, 2010 0:08:08 GMT -5
Located at the west entrance of Still Creek, the Brackett Gas Station doubles as a repair shop and junkyard. The main building doors have been blocked off from the inside, probably by some survivors, so the only accessible entrance is through the garage. The junkyard and repair shop portion houses plenty of junk parts that might be of use to some people. The building itself has a wide selection of common gas station food and supplies, and a ladder in the back for rooftop access. The pumps out front might still have some gasoline in them, but the whole front is flooding with the undead, so your to judge if its worth the risk.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Sept 23, 2010 11:55:28 GMT -5
Episode 2 I think. Therefore I am. "Kimberly Lark reporting from Las Vegas. It's been a week now since the terrorist attack from the organization known as Collateral threatening the citizens of one of the remaining major havens. We've recently received new info since the war between American extremists and PMC's broke out in the inner suburbs detailing of how a Weapon of Mass Destruction had been housed beneath the Sands Expo and Convention Center, apparently large enough to wipe the entire city off of the face of the earth. According to eye witness reports and public PMC documents, Colonel Ron Clausland had been in the middle of it all fighting to stop the weapon from discharging. Unfortunately Colonel Clausland was caught in a small scale explosion from the device after deactivating the mechanism, killing him instantly. The hearts of the citizens go out to the Colonel and his patriotism towards the country others sought to destroy, raising a statue of him at the expo centre's ground zero in his honor." Aya usually worked with either a television set or the radio on; for some reason she couldn't operate without a distraction; but that made her turn it off. She plopped the remote back down on the bench. Reception hadn't been that great anyway, thinking as much as she returned to the piece of weave in front of her. They had picked the first ghost town they came across, and after that settling in the most secure building in the entire town. A quaint little garage and gas station. There were some supplies remaining, a bonus, and protection from outside elements. A secluded roof top with a moderately decent view and a nice place to hang while listening to nothingness, except maybe the odd zombie moan. The real catch Aya stumbled across had been the basement, accessible by a hatch and ladder in the rear room of the gas station; it was spacey, had work benches and cold compared to the air outside. Just powering up some ventilation to swap out the stuffy atmosphere, a little dusting, and it was as good as new. Or at least suitable enough for a girl of her stature to operation in. She wore a lab coat. As inconsistent as it seamed she had taken one from the mercs along with loading up the flatbed of Tyson's Ford with some research equipment and tools. It reminded her of a long time ago, some of the better times anyway, and how she adored donning the jacket. It was a stupid little thing but for some reason Aya couldn't help being ironic about it. Aya had been prodding the magnetic weave for a couple of days now, baffled by how it had been created, finding zero ways to retro-engineer it with what she had at her disposal. Now it was just becoming more of a distraction in itself rather than actual work; Aya would sit on her chair while mulling over concepts of how to find out how the fiber did what it did, only before realizing she had already thought of said concepts. The EBR on the other hand came in bounds and strides. Already Aya had deconstructed it right down to bare bones and parts and had started to work on creating a more slimline, efficient and ergonomically correct shock rifle. Downtime was good. After what had happened, it actually felt like a holiday. Catching some rays on the roof had given the normally pale girl a slight tan, and the scrapyard out back made a perfect shooting gallery for her and Tyson to practice at. It felt like she was living. It felt good.
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Post by Mikey on Sept 24, 2010 14:31:42 GMT -5
“Oh, that is some bulls***…” Tyson said to the TV shortly before it was switched off. Price of keeping low key… But why the hell did they have to build a statue of the son of a b*tch? He scoffed, rolled his eyes, and went back to work at the table he was sitting at. The new weapon he’d picked up from the armory at the casino, something that fit him a bit better than the AR-57 he’d had. An M60. The E4 model. Modern, higher caliber, four times the ammo capacity. He’d taken the bipod off, put a foregrip and a red dot sight on. More single man appropriate. Mini for him, anyway. He had the whole thing dismantled, checking the innards for anything wrong. So far, everything checked out.
He put it back together, loaded it with a hundred round belt, and set it aside. He’d get to the other ones in a bit, but he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything for some time, the rush to get out of dodge overpowering the need to eat. He pulled out the package and took a look at the MRE. Chicken, potatoes and gravy, the works.
Filling the heating pack with water, he dumped the contents of the packages into the dishes and set them on the hot pack to cook.
“Learning anything?” He asked over his shoulder to Aya, agitating the dish the chicken was in. He took out the rest of the items in the bag, condiments, a napkin, plastic silverware, a candy bar, a pack of mix for fruit punch, chocolate milk made of water, and coffee. Lot of s*** to pack in there.
He took his bottle of water, dumped some of it into the cup he had, and mixed it with the fruit punch mix. He took a sip and grimaced. Too sweet.
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Post by .Merios on Sept 27, 2010 0:45:54 GMT -5
The crack of a gun shot echoed throughout the street, carrying on the wind and fading away a few seconds after the initial blast. Smoke billowed from the barrel of Matthew's Mateba, the cylinder rotating and pulling the hammer back all at once, loading a new round into the chamber. The body the large round was made for stumbled a few steps back, it's rotting flesh coating the ground near the site of the exit wound as the monster snapped backwards, collapsing to the ground. Matthew stepped over to the creature, twirling the hand cannon around his right finger before sliding it into it's holster on his belt.
The fatigues he received had become worn and dirty, covered in a variety of grime and back-spray from coagulated open wounds. He pulled his shemagh scarf down from his nose as he stepped up to the body, letting it droop around his neck in an inverted triangle. He moved his right boot to nudge the head of the zombie, turning it to the side to reveal a large, gaping hole where the round had exited the decayed skull. He sighed and turned around, tugging at his old ratty khaki military jacket as a cold chill breezed through. Off in the distance, he could see a few shamblers stumbling about around a central building, but for the life of him he couldn't make out the name.
Matthew turned back around, looking to the gas station. He moved back in that general direction and let out heavy-hearted sigh. He was bored. But that's what a post-apocalyptic wasteland is supposed to be- boring. Within a few minutes, he was at the garage door of the gas station, pushing against it momentarily as it shook with a thunderous echo. He lifted it up quite easily, moving inside and making sure it was secured behind him. He surveyed his surroundings and shrugged, stepping in a few more feet.
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Post by Mikey on Sept 27, 2010 4:42:00 GMT -5
“Have fun?” Tyson said over his shoulder, cutting into the chicken in front of him with his fork. After a bit of cutting, sawing, even ripping at it, he got a piece off and popped it into his mouth. Not bad, for something that didn’t actually contain chicken. He was pretty sure the only thing that was actually what it was advertised as was the silverware. But, that’s what you got when you ate from military surplus stores and mercenary supply sheds.
He took out the new pistol he’d picked up, another Glock. Traded his old one for this one. Basically a step up, from an 18 to a 21. 9mm to .45 ACP. Same concept, TDI Vector thirty round magazines that fed into it without a problem. Converted to full auto like the other had been, twice the punch. Give or take. He took it apart in a moment, taking the slide off in less than a second and stripping it down to bare parts in minutes. It was just fine. He put it back together, about fifteen minutes of work total. For his Desert Eagle, he’d just need to clean it. He knew it was in working order, it was the only gun he had that he had kept. After that, sharpen his knife, do some quick repair on his armor with a hammer. Maybe run a bore mop through the shotgun, even though he’d fired it maybe ten times since the last cleaning.
Been a long time since he’d had to do all of this. As it was, he was liking the peace it was bringing him. Probably the same peace Aya was getting from looking over samples of that weaving they’d picked up.
He’d get to all of that in a bit. First he wanted to eat.
“Hungry?” He asked the room in general. He had a lot of these things, whole box of them in the bed. Mainly chicken dinner types, some chili and some pork.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Sept 28, 2010 13:20:00 GMT -5
Making a faint, curious grunt at Ty's query while looking up over shoulder slightly; mouth and nose hidden behind the white, curled up collar; Aya's eyes spoke that she had been pulled out of a daydream, "Sorry," she chuckled after, looking back at the clump of enigmatic crap on the bench in front. It seemed she didn't carry the old menial worker mentality anymore, a dose of selective hearing on top of that; sighing, "Well I can't say I know everything anymore," summed up her research so far; that would be enough for Tyson, anything after this he could choose to ignore, "It's like, there's the typical clichéd body armor fabric. Genetically engineered spider silk, high strength synthetic fibers. Then the other half is a handful of compounds which I've yet to identify. It's like... staring at unknown. It's been tampered with at the most quantum level, almost as if the curator could reach in and pluck protons and neutrons freely like snatching a falling leaf," Aya loosened up her coat, letting the collar fall a couple of inches, "Until I find out how to go backwards with this..." she clenched her fist tight on the bench, "I can't go forwards."Pulling her left arm free of the coat's sleeve, flexing a little, "On the other hand, I'm at least grateful to have my own upgrade of the shock rifle finished," she snatched the firearm from the bench beside her, a much more thin and sleek version generally looking completely different from its fatter predecessor; although it still appeared a little rustic with the materials Aya could find, "Once I get some real iridium and palladium it'll look a lot more appealing. This'll do for now," the most immediate attraction was of the big curved plate at the nose of the firearm being replaced with a rod, looking a lot more like a barrel now. Aya had found a scuffed G36c receiver and used that as the main body of the firearm, copious amounts of modifications riddling the inside and evident on the outside but still keeping the well known appearance; the handle rail remained attached to the top. Aya picked up the stock, separated from the main weapon, fastening it with three heavy duty bolts. She had custom designed it from scratch aiming as best as possible to create something ergonomical for the user, but compromise had to be made; that said, it made the weapon bloody heavy. "It's a lot more precision based. Seeing as Collat were aiming for massive damage it's no surprise they didn't bother working the weapon any further," she pulled back on the charging handle, a fizzing electric sound emitting straight after, pulling it up into a catch rather than letting it go, "Really I just had to find a way to send EM through air without support of induction, then add an extra dimension to magnetic flux and boost that a sh*tload," she pressed the stock firm against her left shoulder and aimed at the can she had stood up from day one; a promise to herself. The report sounded serenely like a normal rifle discharge, only an added hum lingering afterwards. Aya recovered from the kick slowly, grimacing herself, "Still looking for a way to reduce recoil though," she answered the obvious question, all while placing the rifle back down on the bench, "At the moment I don't think it's safe for a human being to fire it," she rolled her shoulder while looking at the can standing on the rusted car at the other side of the room, a clean hole through and trough - then through the wall, and the pile of scrap behind that - pleased with herself, "I could redirect the recoil, but without more tuning there's the risk of backfire and having the whole unit explode.""It's sort of scary though," Aya admitted, pulling her sleeve back on and slouching, "There's no bullet, no casing, and no residue. In less than a century something like this will change the way war is fought, like a 19th century six shooter to a 21st century sidearm. Suddenly a lot of different opportunities open up," she continued surveying the can from a distance queuing all of the different tweaks she'd need to make simply from what she could see. One of the garage roller doors shuddered open, Matthew returning from his outing in the ghost town. Aya span back around on her chair taking the noise as a sign that she had been distracted enough. “Hungry?” "No thanks, man," Aya replied without looking, "You're already contaminating my workspace enough as it is. No point adding to it," building her excuse with one eye over a microscope while swapping samples out the analyzer.
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Post by Mikey on Sept 29, 2010 7:42:41 GMT -5
Tyson watched the hole the weapon made, much more precise than it had been in Vegas. Interesting. Reminded him of the rail gun concept. Anything written about it, and the few trials that had been done, were all spot on with what she had just done to the can, and to the wall, and to anything else behind the shot. It screamed sci-fi to him still, but he was numb to such revelations by now.
Most of what she said went over his head, but he let her talk. He could make out most of what she said, grateful that she seemed to dumb it down quite a bit. If she wanted to be difficult, he was sure that she could have made it much more complicated. If only for the sake of confusing the hell out of him.
“Your loss.” He said when she declined the offer of food, a flat out lie as he took the last bite of chicken and chewed. It felt like rubber.
“Think I’ll go check my sights.” He said, leaving her in peace for the moment. He slid of the stool and stood still for a moment, adjusting to standing on his broken leg for a moment and slinging the M60 over his shoulder. He tucked the Glock into his belt and made for the door leading to the junkyard out back. He opened it and looked at the yard for a moment. He limped to the junked car that was out by itself, leaning on it and setting up the machine gun on top of it. He peered down the red dot sight and opened the top of the weapon. He set a single round into place and closed it. Racking the charging handle and packing it into his shoulder, he lined up the dot with a bottle and fired. Miss.
Annoyed, he looked for where the round hit, saw it an inch or so to the right behind the bottle. Adjusting the sight, he loaded another round and fired. Hit. Nodding and loading another round, he aimed at another bottle and fired. Hit. One more time for confirmation, hit as well.
He set the weapon to the side and pulled out the Glock. He didn’t expect many problems with this, the sights were factory set to hit the target, but he didn’t really trust factory sights all that much. Lining up the target, a single round in the chamber and the magazine taken out, he fired. Hit. Putting the magazine back, jacking another round into the chamber, and ejecting the mag, he fired again. Another hit. He did the whole thing one more time to confirm, hitting again. All right. Looked like he was good.
He took a seat on the truck of the car and decided to stay outside, taking a drink from his bottle of water and sitting back. Time for a bit of relaxation. Whole point they were there, right?
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Post by .Merios on Sept 29, 2010 9:04:42 GMT -5
Matthew hung back, leaning on a nearby wall as they chatted. He wasn't so much paying attention as he was acknowledging their presence and choosing not to partake in the building, activation and use of a new firearm. He loved sticking to the basics. However, he did need to clean his weapons- he had forgotten to do that after the long drive from the Mirage and the countless times he'd fired the Mateba. Pushing off the wall, he took a few steps towards Aya and turned to his left, reaching down and gripping his dufflebag by it's straps, pulling it up and over his shoulder as he made his way to her.
He approached her and sat down his bag, reaching behind him and pulling up the stool Tyson was recently sitting on.
"Scooch."
He pulled himself up to the work bench and haphazardly slid some of the scrap pieces of metal and debris off a small section of the table as he reached into his belt holster, withdrawing his handcannon and dropping it on the table hard, the loud thud echoing throughout the garage. He reached down and into his dufflebag, speaking as he searched for his gun cleaning kit.
"So, you managed to make a deadlier weapon even deadlier?"
He straightened up, grasping the kit in his right fist and setting it on the table. He grabbed his Mateba and flicked out the heavy cylinder, dropping the .357 rounds onto the table with a series of clangs- he let them roll until the lip of the table caught them. He brought the gun cleaning solution out and dabbed a bit on the rag in the kit, going to work.
"So, other than a safe place to shack up for the night, why'd we stick so close to Vegas?"
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Sept 29, 2010 11:54:14 GMT -5
Taking her view from the microscope and looking at Matthew "I prefer to think of it as 'refined,'" Aya retorted, modestly reluctant to share workspace but shifting to provide room regardless, "In retrospect the original design would inflict more damage, however it's clumsy. This on the other hand..." looking over the firearm, "Could potentially make ballistic weapons obsolete," her sigh of impatience portrayed the want to see such an effort occur. A whirring sound from the analyzer pulled her out of the work lull, taking the jar out and setting it up on a shelf pinning the strip of printed out info underneath it. Hovering her eye back over the microscope, continuing the search for anomalies or imperfections. "So, other than a safe place to shack up for the night, why'd we stick so close to Vegas?" "Worried about something, Matthew?" the tan girl asked without looking up, switching objective lens, "We're far enough outside the inverse quarantine to be left alone. Anyone passing through Vegas'd stock up there and skip this dingy place entirely. It's quiet, but not heinously quiet," rolling the coarse focus down, "Honestly though, it was probably just me wanting to get setup as soon as possible. I have certain standards, these conditions alone are stretching it," Aya pulled away from the scope to look up at the brown ceiling for a moment, shaking her head in dismay before diving back in.
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Post by Mikey on Oct 2, 2010 19:21:45 GMT -5
“Not to mention the gimp needs a place to sit back and relax.” Tyson said as he entered the room. He limped over to his truck and opened the tail gate, setting the weapons in the bed and pulling a sleeping bag out. He set it on the ground and laid down, sticking his broken leg up and resting it on the tail gate as he laid down on the floor. Elevation, first thing they told you to do in such a situation.
He set the Glock on the ground next to him and sighed, relaxing for a moment before he closed his eyes.
“I’m gonna catch some sleep while I can. Get a real eight hours for once.” He said. Sure, he could go for a long time on little to no sleep, but when he got a full nights rest, he woke up feeling like he had slept an entire day. Totally refreshed, feeling like he could take on the world instead of constantly being on guard against dosing off.
“See you in the AM.” He said. Eight hours from now, it’d be passed midnight.
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Post by .Merios on Oct 5, 2010 18:49:43 GMT -5
"Meh, not too worried."
He pulled out a small ram rod and slid the gun cleaning solution-soaked rag over the tip and turned the gun around, sliding it in and out of the barrel. He set the rod back down and gripped the gun by it's handle, flicking the cylinder back out and giving it a spin. He noticed there was a small grinding noise as it spun it's full rotation, scraping against metal on either side. He reached into his kit and searched for an object, digging both hands into the bag.
"Odds are, this is one of the better places to be.. 'Last place they'll be searching is some bum town on the outskirts of a gaudy tourist trap."
He pulled out a small flat head screwdriver and slipped it into the crease between the cylinder and the body to feel out distance. He sighed and put down the screwdriver, withdrawing a small amount of grease from the gun kit and slipping it into the crease, lubing up the cylinder. He wiped his finger off and spun the cylinder- not a sound. With a smile, Matthew flicked it to the side, sliding the cylinder back into the gun.
"So. What's the game plan?"
He started applying some more grease to a cloth and began to lubricate some of the other moving parts, going gently and slowly as he spoke, absolutely making a mess below the gun on the table.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 6, 2010 3:47:47 GMT -5
While Matthew was preoccupied with his Mateba, Aya took the pause to pull out the x-ray she had acquired back at the Mirage and slap it down on the table. She pointed at the highlighted areas, "You probably know what those are," she started, "Mk.14 Caster-HS Cranium implants. If you follow micro engineering religiously, you'd know that those are more or less 'old and sh*t,'" Aya pushed it in Matt's direction for him to have a look at it. His reaction would help her detirmine exactly how much he knew, "The plan is we don't go anywhere, at least nowhere far, until we get them either replaced or removed,"
"It operates via nanites, millions of nanomachines transfer the information to and from assigned areas of the brain. Even machines one billionth of a metre have an expiration date, and those ones are well overdue," swapping petri dishes out of the analyzer while explaining, "They're corroding in their canal passageways. It's like the artery of a heart being blocked, first the sense will be cut off. The nanites are designed to commit mass suicide when a blockage occurs to remove the anomaly; however with the age of these implants, having something like that happen would more likely fry your senses entirely. It's just a matter of time," the dish went up on the shelf, another note pinned beneath it, "That, coupled with the implants being knocked about in god knows what situations you've gotten yourself into, makes things fairly precarious,"
Plucking the printed page of information from the analyzer and taking a close look at the info Aya made an intruiged hum sound, setting it aside to a small pile; the pile next to it stacking much higher, this one being the useless information pile, "At the same time you'd be so kind as to list any other prosthetics which might have been included. Can't have any vital organs going into a necrotic state now, can we,"
She was probably sounding a little cynical to the guy. Aya wasn't too pleased to know she was walking around with a piece of the past for the last two weeks. However the story behind it all was what she had become more intruiged with; a chance to operate and survey the implants would be a chance to gather evidence. If there was anything she were familiar with it would help her understanding of where Matthew fitted in. Most importantly, to tell if he could be a threat. The girl hadn't spent the past decade under the radar for nothing, and she was damned if some vaporware filled anti-hero from organizations past was going to compromise that.
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Post by .Merios on Oct 8, 2010 1:30:50 GMT -5
He listened to her, paying attention yet giving the Mateba most of his thoughts. She flashed him the x-ray and handed it to him. He glanced at it for a second, his eyes locking onto the miscellaneous white blots scattered about his skull. A sharp grinding sound brought him out of his stupor as he looked backed to his weapon- he had brought the gun's cylinder out and it had been pushed back inside at an odd angle as he was greasing it, grinding against the housing. He cursed and brought the gun back towards him, fixing his mistake and finishing up the autorevolver, putting the rag away and bringing another clean one out of the kit.
"At the same time you'd be so kind as to list any other prosthetics which might have been included. Can't have any vital organs going into a necrotic state now, can we,"
He hated that she knew about him. He hated everything about sticking around with a group- it hadn't served him well in the past. He moved the gun aside and set his right arm on the table, laying his forearm against the table and opening his right hand into a fist and squeezing tightly and quickly bringing his fingers out of their balled position- a tight metallic click resounded from within his hand and his fingers locked in place.
"Kneecaps... Knuckles.. The joints are ceramic but coated in titanium."
He attempted to make another fist, straining slightly before his fingers unlocked and allowed free movement. He sighed a bit, reaching over to his Mateba and bringing it back in front of him, gripping it right his right hand and lifting it, bringing the sights up to eye level and turning it around, lifting the sights to align with Tyson's skull, the cylinder of the weapon still hanging out of the side.
"You've figured out the cornea implants by now.. I've also got inner ear implants..Odds are," Matthew moved the gun back up and tapped the side of the barrel against his right temple, "that computer chip is still active.."
He spun back around in his stool, bringing the gun down and setting it on the table, pulling the cylinder out of it's slide and holding it in his right hand as he scooped up the .357 rounds from the table in his right hand. One by one he slowly loaded the rounds in.
"Ticking time bomb if there ever was one.."He finished loading the gun and slid the cylinder back into it's slide, flicking the gun to the side and slapping it with his free left hand, letting the cylinder spin." Assassination protocols.. Tactical Espionage... Apparently I was pretty high on their sh*t list."
He smirked in time with the last few words, bringing the gun back down to his side and sliding it into it's holster on his belt, bringing the leather strap over the grip and snapping it in place. He turned to his workspace and began cleaning up the mess he made, using the now-dirty rag to wipe up any residue left over, pushing the x-ray away with a sweep of the rag.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 8, 2010 4:45:24 GMT -5
Aya sighed, "So that's what the other highlight was," groaning to Matthew's admittance of the CPU, 'It's apparent he's well aware of his position,' she swivled around on her chair to watch him while he maintained his Mateba, 'Can't help but feel he's being deliberately vague on the 'who' part though,' she fished about in a small container withdrawing two small syringes.
"Here," placing them next to his cleaning equipment, "I need you to withdraw blood from the supraorbital vein-" placing a finger to her forehead where it exists, "-and caruncula," pointing to the red inner corner of her eye, "Before any new nanites are manufactured I'll need to know the anatomy of the originals."
How trusting Matt would be was entirely up to him; Aya wasn't forcing the decision. He could let it get to the point where it would be too fargone to even help, perhaps that much would make it easier for her to erase a remnant of Umbrella. Finding out more information was too big an opportunity though, a chance to weed out what was left. It was already evident that the legacy was being carried on by Tricell and Sincill; but the less of what remained from Umbrella in the physical realm, the better Aya felt.
"We'll x-ray your knuckles and patellae later this evening, sounds like they could do with an upgrade," she turned to the analyzer as it beeped out another sample, "F*ck knows where we'll get the resources for that. At the moment the cranial implants is what's most important," pulling the newly printed paper out.
Staring at the information in her hands, Aya froze up a little; the importance of Matthew's implants being thrown in the back seat, 'Two remnants in one day,' she thought in demented monotone. One aged piece of the corporation was okay; two was just plain mean. Looking at the compound on the page, feeling like it was only yesterday she were back in the laboratory playing with its structure, 'A freaking deadend structure,'[/b][/i] the girl reminded herself. Except here it was displayed clear as day.
Something of that caliber was like a signature, yet it had to be coincidence. Aya screwed the paper into a ball and tossed it into a dark corner of the garage, setting the petri dish to the highest shelf. Letting out a long and heavy breath as she sank back into her chair. She looked to the EBR as a way out; picking it up to think of something else, lazily going over it to queue up thoughts of how it could be tweaked.
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Post by .Merios on Oct 8, 2010 14:58:35 GMT -5
He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the syringes. Was she Umbrella? Why did she want to know so much? He shook those thoughts away, grasping the syringes with his left hand and pulling them to him. He stood up and walked away, heading into an ancillary room on the other side of the garage. For one thing, he couldn't do it without a mirror. Secondly, even if she asked he wouldn't have let her do it. Taking a few steps into what looked like a dilapidated storage room, he reached down and procured a small shard of metal- reflective enough to serve as a mirror.
He took a few steps back and rubbed the metal on his shirt, wiping off some of the grime and allowing him to see his own reflection. He stared at himself for a few seconds- not having seen his own face in over a month. He looked down to the syringes and placed one on a shelf in front of him as he leaned against a nearby wall, bringing the mirror up in his left hand and putting the syringe in his right- the cap was already off before he brought it up to his head. He hesitated once more.
Memories, voices.. It all flooded back to him as he stared, looking at himself with the syringe in the mirror. His own eyes were changing color as he locked them in place, his pupils turning into yellowish cat-like slits. He didn't like this, but he knew Aya was something more.. More than just some prodding scientist looking for her next scientific discovery that carried with it an unmistakable adrenaline rush. With a quick movement, he slid the syringe into the caruncula of his left eye, withdrawing a small amount of fluid into the syringe. He could barely feel the pain as he withdrew the needle, squinting his eyes as water welled around his eyelashes.
He shook it off and rubbed his eye with his left sleeve, reaching for the second syringe. He held it in his right hand as he moved it towards his left eye, bringing the needle down from his forehead and gliding it along the skin until he felt the vein. It's been almost a decade since he's even used any knowledge he acquired with his Masters in Bio Chemistry. Hell, it's not like it's been much use as of late. With a quick movement, he slipped the needle under his skin and winced as he pulled out the plunger, withdrawing a small amount of fluid into the syringe. He sighed and pulled it out, grimacing as he dropped the metal to the floor and held his head in his left hand.
A headache set in- a massive one. He groaned as he bent forward to set the syringe next to the other one. It was almost as if he could feel the beating of his own heart through his temples. He shook his head and pushed away from the wall, holding his left hand to his head and grabbing the syringes in his right and stumbling out of the room. He took a moment to collect himself before walking calmly back out into the garage, stepping over to Aya and the work bench. He hooked his right foot around the bottom rung of his stool and pulled it over to him, plopping down and presenting Aya with the syringes.
"This better be worth something.."
He said, rubbing his left eye with his sleeve as he looked into hers, the feral slits still present in his iris.
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