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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 18, 2010 7:17:04 GMT -5
"Have.. Have you done this before, Aya?" She didn't particularly feel obligated to reassure the guy. Getting to this point and then having doubt cast felt a little insulting, as a matter of fact. She closed the notebook and crossed back over to the diamond cutter; the smelting on Tyson's mask had finished up. A bit of navigation on the display and a blast of nitrogen cooled the chamber down before the platform the mask sat on lowered to the hatch; all of the arms stopped systematically as Aya opened it, a occupational health and safety thing, and fired back up once it was closed. She held Tyson's mask to her face while standing up, clearly too large for her; Turning it round and holding it up for the the behemoth to see., "Low caliber rounds will redirect. High powered bullets will ricochet. Large caliber rounds... might push it.""This.. Isn't looking great. I mean, odds are I'll be fine... But I've got lots of moving parts, hon." It was becoming exceedingly clear Matthew was starting to lose faith in her, what with all the hostile machinery going on, "Honestly, you'll look a little ugly after the op. You'll be bloodshot, swollen and a tad scarred up; your eye sight will be in a constant state of looking through a grainy twilight filter for maybe a couple of days," planting her palms on the operating table and leaning in, "And that's the best case scenario you'll ever hear. It won't just be me operating on you any..." that part probably sounded a bit whimsical, Aya motioned at Matthew's body as a whole, "Progenitor'll be there every step, make sure everything syncs up and keeps that pretty face intact-" she stopped abruptly, rocking her jaw before shrugging. "If that doesn't help you relax, I lost count how many subjects I fitted implants with," she moved back over to the cutter, the lasers had started engraving shapes and casts out of the microscopic pieces setting them aside for assembly, "First time was pretty messy though. Screwed up one implant which lead to more and more problems. Guy ended up having this big hunk'a metal hanging out the side of his head, half his jaw was replaced with aluminium," reveling in her jest, "Had this great resonating chrome sound to his voice afterward," she chuckled for effect, looking over to Matt after calming down, "Yeah, nah, you'll be fine,"Picking up another brick of Titanium from its crate and setting it inside the furnace; time to get the kneecaps and knuckles sorted now that Tyson's mask was out of the way. Meanwhile the miniature pieces of cast were being clicked together, starting to look something a little more implant-esque, "'Kay... might as well get things started. Matt, if you want to remove any unnecessary clothing it'd make things a lot easier," she started towards the back of the trailer to locate the appropriate tools, "And Ty. Stick around. I'll need your assistance with some of the procedure,"While loading items onto a trolley Aya addressed Matt on one other topic, "You'll be unconscious for all of the operation, champ, just in case that much wasn't obvious already,"
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Post by Mikey on Nov 21, 2010 18:19:17 GMT -5
“All righty, don’t head but a fifty cal.” Tyson said, holding the mask to his face. It was still his mask, still felt the same. He flipped it over and looked at the face, his second face for years, and nodded. The shiny new metal clashed with the markings of the ancient explosion, the new and old coming together flawlessly. He liked it. Slipping the straps over his head, he adjusted them to fit again and lowered it over his face. Perfect.
He looked over at Matt, his worry over the upcoming operation in the air. Tyson smirked.
“Thought you were some big badass Matt. Telling me your gonna chicken out over a little tune up?” He said with a growing smile, his back turned to Matt. It probably didn’t help when Aya listed off the operations she had done, making sure to note the first one that went wrong. When she noted that she wouldn’t be the only one operating, Tyson lifted a thumb in the air enthusiastically.
He helped her get tools ready, mainly taking them from her when she picked out what they needed and put them on the cart for her. He looked over his shoulder for a moment and couldn’t help himself. He picked up the most sinister item he could find on the cart and held it up.
“Hey, what’s this one do?” He asked her. As if to let her know it was a joke, he set it back on the table before she could answer.
“So, how are we putting him under? Gas, liquid, or a good ol’ blow to the head?” He asked. In his experience, a blow to the head put someone out longer than an anesthesia.
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Post by .Merios on Nov 22, 2010 16:27:34 GMT -5
The scowl that was shot towards Tyson stuck around on his face for a few moments before he glanced over at Aya. She was mentioning past experiments and surgeries she had performed- while it didn't make him any less hesitant, it helped to know she didn't mind spilling the good stuff. Tyson's mask was being passed around, each of them were testing it on their own heads. With a shrug, Matthew turned around and walked to his optics.
"'Kay... might as well get things started. Matt, if you want to remove any unnecessary clothing it'd make things a lot easier," He picked up the case and slid it over to Aya on her workbench, "they're made to the specifications in the data."
Matthew reached down and gripped the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the ground. He unfastened his belt next and unbuttoned his jeans, dropping them to the ground. He had black boxers covering his groin, but the rest of his body was completely exposed. Scars, pock marks, burn-scarred flesh and hundreds of tiny round dots embedded over his vital organs. Years of survival, warfare and experimentation had wrecked his outward image- clothing tended to hide much of it, but the disfiguring smile on his face matched the rest of him quite easily.
He moved to sit on the bed, looking at Tyson once more then over at Aya. He could feel his hear beating in his chest- nervousness began giving him minor shakes which he then remedied by clenching his fists. His pupils slowly sunk into an oval and his iris flattened to accompany it, giving his eyes feral cat-like slits.
"My skin is a bit.. Harder than normal, so you'll have to use a bit more pressure. I'd also recommend gas, seeing as I'm not sure how my immune system would handle anesthetic at the moment."
He sighed, swinging his legs around on the bed and pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, looking up at Aya. He's never felt so vulnerable since the 90's.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 23, 2010 7:43:49 GMT -5
“Hey, what’s this one do?” Aya smirked, "Just like the rest of the stuff. Cut sh*t up really well. That one's specifically for slicing open the Urethra though... oh right - won't be needing that one," the corner of her mouth curled a little more, then looking over her shoulder. "Scalpels are bullsh*t sharp; if the first crew had no problem keeping you in one piece while inserting the first implants then it should be a piece of cake cutting you open," she answered while taking instruments from Tyson as she called them out, mumbling a 'thanks' and 'thank-you' now and again. Pushing the trolley over to the operating table, "Considering your status, I doubt anything will really put you under properly. Worst case scenario a part of your brain remains active pushing a couple of your sensory motors..." metal clinked as the trolley bumped into the bench, "But I figured some Nos would be the best bet," bringing the mask up connected to a bottle of Nitrous Oxide beneath the cart, "It'll probably only feel like a couple of minutes have passed.""Here champ," Aya tossed a cyan operating mask over to Tyson along with a pair of gloves, gearing up herself before tying her hair into a pony tail, "Alrighty..." she pulled the mask up and over Matthew's mouth, "I'll get you to count back from 10, Matt," she turned the nozzle on the bottle half way, "Starting from now."As the augmented man finally dozed off Aya took the mask away, sounding a little more professional once it all began, "Time to work. Let's get started on his knees, the temple implants won't be finished for a while yet," hitting a switch on the side of the table lit up the work space with bright fluorescent light. Aya pointed out one of the scalpels for Tyson to hand her, "Grab a couple of the clamps too-" she realized how inconsistent that might have sound, figuring Tyson would be looking for a vice or something to hold a piece of metal in, "Kinda look like scissors with the nose bent in. I'll get you to hold the skin back from the incision,"Cutting through the skin of Matt's knee, it was no joke that part of the integumentory system had pulled its sh*t together to hold fast against cut and impact; it wasn't callus or anything, it was just tough. A cross had quickly been cut with zero planning; it probably looked a little uncouth but it was second nature for the girl to know where to open a wound. Pointing out which folds for Tyson to hold and beginning to remove the patella from its connection to the joint itself. She started talking unannounced, "For the record; I was waiting until now to explain everything personally. Don't know whether you're wondering why the hell we're taking Matt's kneecaps off in the first place, or anything else for that matter," one of the four shallow rods in the back of the cap slipped loose as Aya pulled it free, "The metal Matt has inside of him, courtesy of Umbrella, are pretty old. To the point of being a health issue. So I'm doing this favor," the expression of uncertainty read from her brow, "It might give me something to follow on the corporation too. 'Lil leftover for me to scrub out," the last rod came loose and the cap pulled free, slowly lifting it from the joint. Aya made a short trip to the laser cutter, pulling out the two fresh Titanium caps from the furnace and bringing them over, "You probably already worked out he's a bit more than human. Why exactly?" she looked up, "Is because he was injected with a dose of the Progenitor virus," whether Tyson kept up with the science lingo of Umbrella's products was another story, but she made it sound obvious that it was a big f*cking deal, "I mean he won't flip out on us or anything. I figured you should know the whole story. It might - just, y'know, make sense if something happens further down the track. All of these augs were put in him to improve efficiency, etcetera," Aya slid the cap gently into place, "The incision'll need to be left open so the joint can heal around the metal and tighten properly, otherwise we'll have a crappy stitch up afterward. Move onto the next knee," she twirled her finger in the air for them to rotate around the table. "So besides not learning Chinese," she started shifting the attention away from their unconscious patient, more interested in hearing about someone else for a change in theme, "What else have you been doing since I saw you back in Baghdad last? You sorta picked up and left after they threw me in the slam," Looking up while scratching her cheek with the handle of the scalpel.
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Post by Mikey on Nov 24, 2010 7:44:43 GMT -5
“Yeesh.” Tyson muttered, looking at the tool as Aya explained its use. He gingerly set it back on the storage shelf, going back to taking everything she handed out to him with a smirk, continuing to rib Matt as he got ready for his surgery. The cart was loaded, they got everything ready, and Matt was ready to be put under.
“NOS, huh?” Tyson said, looking at the mask for a moment. “Good thing none of us smoke.” He quipped. How awkward would that be? He looked at the mask as Aya handed it to him and pressed it to his face, tying the lower set of strings behind his neck and the upper over his ears. Testing it to see if it was tight enough, he was satisfied and moved to the surgical gloves.
“One size fits all, my ass.” He said, wiggling his hands into the gloves as they stretched to capacity. “But, no glove, no love.” He said with a smirk, thinking for a moment. “Nickel for every time I’ve heard that…” He muttered, making fists and opening them several times over to try and stretch the latex.
While he was busy with the gloves, Aya had already put the mask on Matt and the man dozed off into chemical induced sleep. Funny how peaceful chemical’s could make a guy.
Right down to business. Aya silently called for a scalpel, then verbally for a pair of clamps. Tyson hovered his hand over the table of tools for a moment, looking for the right thing when Aya clarified. Instantly picking up a few pairs, he held them in his right hand and clamped on the pieces of skin she indicated with his right. Gently letting them down, he let the weight of the metal instruments do the holding. She went on to explain that purpose of the surgery, and he made a surprised face.
“Umbrella? Really?” He said, more surprise than doubt. “How long are those f**kers gonna keep popping up? Isn’t ten years long enough for them to go the hell away?” He said.
“Ya, I figured that back at the college.” He said about Matt‘s more than human bits. “I’ve yet to meet someone who had the gall to beat two men with assault rifles to death.” He said with a smirk. “That wasn’t me.” He added. He’d done it once or twice.
“Progenitor. As in, the same thing that puts a spring in your step?” He asked. He’d heard that somewhere before, and he was pretty sure it was Aya’s drink of choice as well. So to speak.
“Makes sense.” He said when she was done explaining everything. “Never seen you go crazy, gotta imagine if he does it won’t be because of Progenitor.” He said. That made him think of another question. She informed him they were switching sides, and he limped to the other side of the table, ready with the clamps for her next cut. It was easier than he thought it was going to be.
“When you turned into… Aya five point oh, are you in control?” He asked her out of the blue, on the subject of Progenitor. Referring to the ten foot tall creature she had been. He knew it was her, no doubt in his mind. It wore her rig and what was left of her clothes, it disappeared in the same place she appeared, it saved his ass from being a stain on the wall. That right there made him think it was still her on the inside.
The subject turned to him, to where he had been and such, and he thought back.
“Doesn’t sit well with me when a buddy is thrown in jail for no real reason.” He said. “I remember hearing about your little Triple Indy out the window. I went to the hospital and left you a card.” He told her. He’d never doubted she’d get better. It had only said he’d buy her a drink when she woke up. She deserved it, all the s*** she’d put up with.
He was hesitant about telling her what he was up to after that. She knew he had been working for someone else, another company, but he didn’t tell her what he had been doing there. He supposed she’d find out anyway. She had a habit of that. And the more he kept it from her, the harder it would come back and bite him in the ass.
“I worked for a company for a while. Basic s***, private security mainly. Turned out to be a shell company for Sincell. When I found that out, I blew up the base and most of the surrounding area for s***s and giggles. Then I tried to catch Mardi Gras and ran into the whole zombie snag.” He said. Basic, left out a detail here or there, but the brunt of it was out in the open. He avoided her gaze, keeping his attention on the knee in front of him waiting to be cut open.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 24, 2010 11:22:10 GMT -5
"I can understand how it's annoying," Aya plucked at Tyson's spite, "But something as resilient as a shadow organization such as that, they kinda make themselves hard to kill," she began to pull the second cap out, scowling as it snagged a little, "I figured I'd make it a little more difficult for them to live. With a bit of determination and a lot of time, couldn't think of anyone better than myself to pick up such a hobby," with a flick of the scalpel the clinging joint let go. Aya made a little observation "Huh, crack in the Titanium. Would have turned into an issue had it ran through the ceramic," she set the residue covered cap onto an adjacent table, "But yeah. Just when you think it's behind us all something else pops up to remind everyone of time past," she paused to look up, "Should explain why I'm showing an interest in this," pointing downward at patient No.1. “Progenitor. As in, the same thing that puts a spring in your step?” "Not quite," Aya was quick to correct, "From what I understand, it's an abolished 'deviant'. I hadn't heard of it before - which is saying something - as much as we might share similarities in chemistry we're both radically different in numerous other areas," pointing the scalpel at Matt, "He picked it up involuntarily after adolescence, where as I grew up with it," Aya figured she should ease Tyson's skepticism on the odds of Matthew's potential un-premeditated mutation, it was a matter of trust between the two men, "I do know that his myoblasts won't go into a catalyst meltdown unless Matt enters some sudden evolution cycle to accept that sort of switch in chemistry which, from what I can tell, isn't impossible, just highly improbable. The Progenitor in him is a bit of a hermit. The microprocessor in his cranium might have been implemented to give it the boot it needs, which is a reason why I'm not touching it until I have more info," her attention dropped back to the cap when Tyson opened a query. A fair one the girl had to admit. “When you turned into… Aya five point oh, are you in control?” "Short answer. No," she paused to look up again; it was a topic that could make their friendship complicated and something that needed explaining seeing as it was possibly the opposite answer Tyson had been expecting, "Once my body starts replicating Progenitor takes the reins, but... i-" Aya put the scalpel down trying to think of how to explain it, "It's not like I'm someone else. I hate to use the term because it's so inaccurate, ah. It's kind of like a symbiosis. We coexist. We share memories and experience so that she can utilize them when the time comes. This includes people I consider dear to me. She wouldn't do anything to harm the trust I have for her," making a bit of a quip, "So when it happens just know you're in good hands and remember to say 'hi,'"A warm smile broke across her face when she recalled the card Tyson had left, "I was surprised of your style, "Ty leaving me a card..." but I realized I would have been offended had you done otherwise," she snickered, "You kept it vague though. Does that mean you owe me a beer for every morning I've woken at since?"The new cap was nearly ready to plug in; Aya was keeping her ear open on the job Tyson had picked up. How big of a prick the boss was always ended up being something fun to complain and joke about; if he had picked up his sh*t and left then Aya could guess it might have been the nuance to what was originally an enjoyable contract. Whether he left leaving a fist mark on the Brass' jaw was another question. "Turned out to be a shell company for Sincell. When I found that out, I blew up the base and most of the surrounding area for s***s and giggles. Then I tried to catch Mardi Gras and ran into the whole zombie snag.” Prick of a boss indeed. At least that answered the question of the possible fist mark, "Christ in a f*cking cup," she looked up to the lethal weapon, a bit sour in the mouth, "What!" silence followed; it was a mix of emotions. For starters Aya was mad at Tyson's ignorance, then she wanted to forgive him for it, on top of that she wanted to congratulate him on such an explosive exit. It mainly rode on Sincell still operating, and that a former brother in arms had aided them. She looked back down to the open joint when it became obvious Tyson didn't want to hear it. Aya could see the regret; that was enough for her to forgive him, "It was all smoke and mirrors when Dragonfly entered politics with Sincell. I suppose it would be the same with their para-military sector. You probably didn't know who you were killing if it ever came to that,"New caps locked in place, that was the knee's out of the way; onto something a little more precarious. Aya sighed as she moved up to Matthew's left hand, the titanium knuckles had just finished being carved to fit bringing them around on a tray and setting to work, "So how'd you find out?" she was grateful alone that Ty had found out by itself; if he hadn't he would still be there, "You didn't... I mean, there weren't hesitations? I mean, you must have made some contacts there," the moral would have weighed; had Tyson had to shoot the very people he worked with, or friends he'd made. It might be something she would need to talk with him about; squad therapy was a hobby Aya brought on board ever since starting her PMC. Talking usually ended up being the hardest thing for those who shot at people daily to do; but it always helped whenever Aya made it clear she was listening.
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Post by Mikey on Nov 24, 2010 20:49:16 GMT -5
Tyson smirked when he heard Aya talk about how she was dealing with Umbrella’s remnants. “You with extra time on your hands. That’s more dangerous than the SEALs.” He said with a smirk. She never ceased to amaze him with all the s*** she pulled out of her bag of tricks.
“The Progenitor in him is a bit of a hermit. The microprocessor in his cranium might have been implemented to give it the boot it needs, which is a reason why I'm not touching it until I have more info.” She said.
“So what, these strains of virus’ all have personalities? If I got injected I could be dealing with a real a**hole who follows me around everywhere?” He asked. Just like people, there was bound to be an a**hole in the group of virus strains.
“This includes people I consider dear to me. She wouldn't do anything to harm the trust I have for her. So when it happens just know you're in good hands and remember to say 'hi.'"
“That’s good to know.” He said. As long as he didn’t do something to **** her off. Different personality, different person, could be totally different buttons to be pushed. If he ever saw her again, he was thinking he’d watch his P’s and Q’s. The Progenitor in Aya was a bit too big to try and bulls*** with it just yet.
"You kept it vague though. Does that mean you owe me a beer for every morning I've woken at since?" She asked. He let out an audible laugh.
“Well… Considering that’s something like a hundred or more beer’s… We’ll just say I owe you drinks for the rest of our natural born lives.” He said.
Her reaction to his confession was… Expected. Her anger showed through instantly, and it softened over the course of the next seconds. The way her next words sounded, their tone and the words themselves, it seemed to him like her anger just melted away.
"It was all smoke and mirrors when Dragonfly entered politics with Sincell. I suppose it would be the same with their para-military sector. You probably didn't know who you were killing if it ever came to that."
“Only once. They were set up on an island, and these anti-BOW radicals came around. Sincell painted them as terrorists, but they were really just god guys who needed a hobby.” He said. “They came to the island to try and destroy the complex, but they ran into complications and holed up in an old library. My team breeched and killed a few of them before taking them prisoner.” He said, remembering the events quite clearly.
“Thing that set me off was one of my friends trying to execute them all. We fought, I shot him, the rest shot at me, I shot them.” He said. An OK Corral in the children’s section that lasted all of six seconds.
“A girl with the invaders, she pulled up a bunch of junk on a computer. Anything and everything that had Sincell’s name on it, but what got me was the journal entries she showed me from my boss.” He said. She asked him about any friends he’d made, about hesitating to do what he did, and he let out a sigh.
“No.” He said simply. “I killed… Seven different people that I knew. I ate with them, bunked with them, fought with them… And as soon as I knew who the company was they were monsters waiting to be put down.” He said. “At least I saw it like that.” He said. “The last one? He was surprised… I think he was the same as I was, he didn’t know who he was working for, but I killed him anyway.” He told her. Like always, he didn’t show any emotion for what he had done. The only indication that anything was out of the norm was his voice. It sounded distant, more like someone caught in a past memory as they told it than anything else.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 25, 2010 8:14:21 GMT -5
As usual the man was acting ice cold, accounting the shootout he had while Aya sliced open the skin over Matthew's knuckles making a fairly broad incision. The elasticity of the skin was weaker than over the knee and held open well, the girl waved the clamps away gracefully so Tyson could relax for the moment, "You wouldn't have known who was properly affiliated with the company. If any were innocent, it's their loss they didn't find out before you. You may have done them a favor in the least,"It would have been contradictory of her to judge Tyson, Aya made as much the same mistake as he had, "I don't know how much you're aware of," it only seemed fair to tell him, plus reassuring him he wasn't alone on the matter, "I spent decades with Umbrella. A lot of innocent blood is on my hands because of it. After years of loyalty the truth usually makes getting over things hard, sometimes impossible, but 'what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.' You come to terms with it and it motivates you to make up for it," Aya picked out a small case from a shelf of the trolley, "I'll go to hell for what I did. That aint stopping me from fixing things and making Earth a slightly more livable place though,"The case held a pen drill; probably the size of four pens combined but the name was self explanatory. Testing the battery hooked onto the tail of it let out a shallow whine, much more welcoming on a threatening sound level than its bigger cousins. No new holes were being made; Aya replaced the drill bit with a driver tip. In the original surgery holes had been drilled into the proximal bones, the largest bone of the fingers, and the metacarpal bones in the palm of Matthew's hand. The knuckles had been screwed into place after that. All it took was a bit of a swap out; making sure the tiny screws didn't get lost amongst the flesh around his palms, "Made the knuckles a little more slim and narrow for you, Matt," Aya spoke to her unconscious but possibly hearing cognitive patient, "Should remove any stiffness you might get," winking at the expressionless smiley face bathing in white light. “So what, these strains of virus’ all have personalities? If I got injected I could be dealing with a real a**hole who follows me around everywhere?” Aya chuckled, "Well it wouldn't slap you awake in the middle of the night to take a p*ss or anything," she interjected before answering, "Think of it more as programming. The strains do differ in personality, but their one and only purpose, as with every other living organism on earth, is to stay alive. This means they do what they must to survive," she spoke between the whirring drill, plucking another knuckle off, "In your case, the 'ass hole' wouldn't exactly be a d*ck, but it's concept of survival would be relinquishing any control the host has over their body and acting on its own accord.""In my case Progenitor is a little more wise. She benefits from the bond by working together. The strain in Matt probably figures if it keeps its mouth shut most of the time it won't rope in attention to itself," holding a fresh titanium knuckle over a joint and screwing it in, "We aren't without deformities that give us away," she pointed to her yellow eyes, "Not even a virus is that perfect. They do change though. I don't know what her next cycle will be, good or bad it's something else I'll learn about her.""Doubt there were too many variants or deviants of the virus though. It was shafted for the T-virus as you probably already know," she twirled her finger again to initiate the table rotation, "The odds of a strain outside the vanilla Mother Virus being aggressive is pretty unlikely," her smirk of her next thought was hidden, but the cheekiness was still visible in her eyes, "Why'd'you ask? Thinking of getting a viral shot some time, Tyson?"
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Post by Mikey on Nov 28, 2010 5:36:47 GMT -5
"You wouldn't have known who was properly affiliated with the company. If any were innocent, it's their loss they didn't find out before you. You may have done them a favor in the least." She said. He didn’t feel that way. He didn’t know how many were innocent, but he knew of at least one.
“Grady, the one guarding the director’s office. He was surprised, when I killed him. He was another friend. I don’t think he was one of them.” He told her. Of all the faces that remained in the back of his mind, Grady’s stood out more than most.
"I spent decades with Umbrella. A lot of innocent blood is on my hands because of it. After years of loyalty the truth usually makes getting over things hard, sometimes impossible, but 'what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.' You come to terms with it and it motivates you to make up for it. I'll go to hell for what I did. That aint stopping me from fixing things and making Earth a slightly more livable place though." She said. Truer words were never spoken, words that so well described himself as well.
“I’ve been on that road since I was twelve.” He told her. He’d done a lot of things in his life that didn’t name him proud, but all were for a good cause, in his own mind. The cause had changed over the course of his life, his means changed as well. Usually for the worse. But he was still fighting for what he thought was right. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
She went on to explain about the virus she and Matt shared, interesting stuff to say the least. He’d have never guessed that they manifested as, give or take, whole new personalities. Which lead him to a question.
“Does she ever talk to you? Give you a fresh perspective on things? Maybe even just someone to talk to to pass time?” He asked.
She pointed at her eye, and Tyson already knew what she meant.
“Ever think of a pair of contact lenses?” He asked. A hundred percent human on the outside, not much more was more dangerous than that.
"Why'd'you ask? Thinking of getting a viral shot some time, Tyson?" Aya asked.
“If it turned out anything like you two, it wouldn’t seem like a bad deal. But I hear the odds of that are rare. I don’t have that kind of luck.” He responded. One in a hundred million or something like that? The odds were against two of them ever meeting, let along three of them. “Is there any way to check a person’s compatibility?” He asked, more passingly curious than actively looking for a jolt in power.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 28, 2010 9:32:25 GMT -5
"It's not that physiological a bond. We'd probably get sick of each other quick if it were," thinking of what Progenitor would sound like if it had a voice in any way, "Although you could argue she's the one handing out perspective. My neurochemistry is above average thanks to her, lets me consider scenarios in variety based on evidence. I think I'd be a much more biased person if it weren't. Most of the time we're mutual in thought and decision. If we don't agree on something, we would let each other know," she shook her head after finishing, "It mostly gets in the way of relationships. The frou-frou inside me is a picky one, let me tell ya. Like some overprotective sister."“Ever think of a pair of contact lenses?” Aya shrugged, "Used to have'em when I was young for a short while. Removed the intimidating impression I left over. It's not so unusual now days though, with everything else going on it's easy for it to fly right under everyone's radar..." she trailed off as one of the knuckles snagged; operating in a bit of a heavy machinery mode Aya was tempted to just give it a harsh tug before remembering how delicate the operation at hand was, "But it's who I am. Represent, I suppose. The blue hair was a bit bullsh*t while growing up though. Glad Progenitor got that out of her system and picked something a little more normal.""But I hear the odds of that are rare. I don’t have that kind of luck. Is there any way to check a person’s compatibility?” "Yeah," she half laughed in irony, "Here I was, walking around thinking I'm the only one of my kind. It's not the sort of lotto odds you'd want to pick, granted I can only think of one person who took them voluntarily..." a pair of thick black shades came to mind, "The chances with Tri-Base, the Progenitor I have inside me, are three times that of the T-Virus' 1 in 10 million. The benefit however is with some months of research you could determine whether a host contains compatible genetic makeup for it, rather than just making the shot and seeing whether the subject's performance improves or if they're reduced to an over aggressive husk.""Easiest subjects to monitor are unborn children," the last knuckled screwed in place, Aya pulled her mask down while looking up, "You've got your test subject ready for injection right at birth. However the amount of hours of labor required makes things impractical,"
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Post by Mikey on Dec 1, 2010 3:48:35 GMT -5
"It mostly gets in the way of relationships. The frou-frou inside me is a picky one, let me tell ya. Like some overprotective sister."
“That’d be creepy.” Tyson said offhandedly. An overbearing, overprotective sister looking over your shoulder at every moment of ever day. “I’d probably take a power drill to my ear to try and shut her up.” He said with a smirk. He couldn’t imagine how annoying it would be.
“Represent, I suppose. The blue hair was a bit bulls*** while growing up though.” She said, and Tyson let out an audible laugh.
“Blue hair? Really?” He said, laughing some more. “I’d pay to see that.” He said with a laugh. “Personally, I was rockin’ the cornrows when I was a kid.” He said. He was sure she’d get as much of a laugh at that thought as he had of hers. An older ‘sister’ he’d had where he grew up, she loved to practice on the younger kids. An aspiring hair dresser, she needed all the practice she could get. At least that’s what she said when she almost kidnapped and strapped to a chair the kids of the place. Tyson used to call her a mad scientist, the way some of the unluckier kids came out. He’d never let her use the scissors on him.
She let out the odds of the chance of success with the particular virus combination she had, and he let out a whistle. He hadn’t known the odds for success with the T Virus, only knew they were bats*** high.
“One in ten million. What’s that, two hundred or so people in the world? With today’s population? Never know, could be a lot more in the world.” He said. The people who went through all of this trouble to make her, they wouldn’t stop at one or two. She went on to tell how the subjects were monitored from birth, and he looked at her for a moment.
“Yeesh. So wait… Did you ever know your parents?” He asked. A sore subject, most likely. He knew how that went, better than a lot of people. Maybe as well as she did, if she had the kind of story he was thinking. At least, in a twisted kind of way, she was born with a purpose. He’d just been an inconvenience
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Dec 1, 2010 10:10:07 GMT -5
"Strangely enough, I could imagine you with cornrows." Aya nodded her head while smiling, crouching down at the diamond cutter to retrieve the assembled implants, "It'd probably still suit you now. Lotta mercs I've met chose to stylize their hair. Mohawk seems most common, a little less subtle than I'd prefer but aggressive none the less," she pushed her nose up, "Now female mercs, that's when things get weird. I swear they spend more time working out a freaky hairdo than being active in the field," she carried the implants over on another tray setting them besides Matthew's head, "Were the 'rows your preference or a peer thing?" Aya asked before peeling her old gloves off from the wrist with her teeth and pulling on a fresh pair, "Read in your file you had a bit of street life when you were a kid. Cornrows seems like a typical gang thing," pulling her mask back up.
"Had foster parents," Aya started while checking the cases of each of the ear implants, "Didn't know that 'til I was much older. It's your usual controlled experiment. Instead of just dropping me in a cell the moderators emulated a perfect childhood the same as every other new born in the Raccoon City lab. It meant I grew up with a sister and a brother as well," her iris' went out of focus, looking past the implant as she recounted scenarios, "Made meeting my real dad pointless. Nothing could replace the people who raised me. We parted when we realized we couldn't relate to each other..." snapping back, she swapped implants now checking the fragile connection between the sound processor and cochlea case, "Never met my true mom. In the end I like to think of Progenitor as my proper mother. It's just a bit more of a happier ending that way."
Aya readied the scalpel over the upper base of Matthew's ear, "If this doesn't make your stomach queasy then it'll definitely give you a headache," commenting while making the incision, feeling as if she were operating on her own ear. Aya clamped the ear open as she tied the implant around fragile parts of Matt's inner ear; the distinct lack of noise was a little grinding, "I usually have a television or radio going on to keep my mind in two places at once," she mentioned out loud, talking would help her work, "Tell me about your time in Brooklyn. You were pretty much forced into the army. Did you prefer life at all back in New York?" the girl's yellow hues looked up at the man for a moment. She couldn't see the younger Tyson amongst all the soldier; did he disagree with the type of person he was back then?
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Post by Mikey on Dec 2, 2010 4:20:56 GMT -5
"Were the 'rows your preference or a peer thing? Read in your file you had a bit of street life when you were a kid. Cornrows seems like a typical gang thing." She said. He smirked.
“This was back in the seventies, the whole braid thing hadn’t caught on. It was pretty radical back then.” He said. “And, no, I didn’t have much of a choice. One of the older girls in the building, she used to snatch kids from the hallway and fix em up with wild ass haircuts. I didn’t let her near me with a pair of scissors, so she tried out the braids. At sixteen, I’d never had a haircut in my life. It was the braids or a mullet, so I went with the braids.” He said with a smile. “When I started working for my first company, I shaved my head because the damn mask kept yanking it out. I didn’t wanna wear a balaclava in hundred plus degree weather.” He said.
“Merc’s, ya… We’re a group of strange folks, f**k. Remember Mary, from Dragonfly? She had that Mohawk colored six different colors? Wasn’t even a Mohawk, she just spiked all her hair up the middle, remember her? Catch her coming from the showers, she looked like her last job was blowing up a paint factory.” He said with a laugh. “To top it off, she was a total b*tch.” He added. He looked up at Aya for a moment and grinned behind his surgical mask.
“I bet you could pull off a Mohawk.” He said.
She came out with her childhood story, and he went quiet. Guess their stories were pretty different. She’d been given an illusion of a happy life, lied to and kept content with what was in front of her all her life.
“I always knew from the start how s***ty my life was. Don’t know if I would have preferred a lie or not.” He said. “I never met my real mom. Never wanted to, the b*tch. She was reformed, supposable, but you can’t take back some things.” He said. He didn’t know if Aya knew the circumstances of his birth or not. It wasn’t something he liked remembering himself, but the f**king private eye who tracked him down when he was still in the Army for her, he’d laid out the details.
“I really wanted to meet the woman who brought me to the hospital when she found me in that back alley, but she died when I was twelve. Never got the chance to thank her.” He said. Sometimes, he thought he could almost remember what she looked like. Blonde, thin, gentle hands. But the face was always a blank, right on the edge of his mind. He knew of course he couldn’t remember that far back, to being just an hour old or so, but he thought about her to this day.
She asked about Tyson’s life in New York, and he thought back.
“Hey hey, f**kin’ New York, greatest lil big town in the f**kin’ world, ya hear?” He said in a flawless stereotypical Brooklyn accent. He laughed aloud. “I never get tired of that.“ He then spoke normally, a deep voice that, by contrast, was void of an accent. It was usually when he spoke quickly, or when he was rather upset, that the old accent came out. He’d always done his best to hide it just to keep an heir on animosity.
“It was an ok life. I was out on the streets when I was a kid, and this guy brought me home after I nicked his wallet right from his pocket. He didn’t notice the actual theft, saw me looking threw it when he turned around. Apparently I impressed him. So he took me in, blood in blood out, and it was like an instant family. Mother and father, thirty or forty bothers and sisters. Whole apartment building of people you could count on.” He said, remembering the faces that stood out over the span of thirty years.
“The feeling you get when you actually belong to something after being on your own all your life, no matter what it is… It’s the greatest thing in the world.” He said.
"Ya, I kind of miss it. We were all criminals of one kind or another, but we were good people. We had values, morals... We were good guys." He said. He wasn't sure if you could call drug dealers and theives good people, but they never hurt anyone who didn't have it coming to them.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Dec 4, 2010 11:48:44 GMT -5
"Funny thing is, I think her second or third assignment with Dee after recruitment landed her in a paint factory," Aya shook her head at her humor, "That sort of thing's probably best suited for her anyway. It's the only type of mission that would give her a guaranteed camouflage counter,"“I bet you could pull off a Mohawk.” Pausing her work to look up at her fringe, picturing herself with a Mo. She almost gave the impression that she was seriously considering it, but shook her head in disagreement and returned to her work, "You'd have to either tie me down or kill me to make that happen,"The talking was good. It made the menial task of stitching Matthew's right ear back in place less gray. Aya pursed her mouth while nodding subtly in sympathy when Tyson spoke of how he wanted to meet the woman who rescued him, and the news which had subsequently followed. Sometimes life just took away what mattered most to you and left behind all the waste, "I'm sorry to hear. About the woman who helped you I mean. The odds of a saint in a cut throat society like Brooklyn in the 60's, you were very lucky,"Cutting the end of the wire, Aya moved to the other side of the table and turned Matt's head the other way. She snickered, pulling the scalpel away before messing up a clean cut when Tyson busted out his local accent; hardly what she'd expect as an answer but definitely summed up his thoughts in a nut shell. She dropped a Southern accent herself "Don't think it's got anythin' on chibi Char-Town, NC, dumb nut," amplifying the comedy of an accent, "Just have a whole argument like that and find out who falls off in hysterics first."Maroon residue coated the old implant as Aya removed it, dropping it on the tray like a dead parasite, "Man. Thirty odd siblings. Who were the folks who looked after you all?" she seemed to understand why Tyson revered such a life of his past; Aya could imagine a tight nit community all looking after themselves, kids going in and out of jail every other week, "I'm guessing Mom was there with TLC for all the kids, made huge bulk dinner while Dad taught the right from wrong. In return you all did what you could for the family," the girl had to admit the juxtaposition was astonishing between her and Tyson's childhood; and here they are with their similarities, both wound up as soldiers. Neither holding much resent about it.
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Post by Mikey on Dec 5, 2010 5:59:17 GMT -5
“Ya…” Tyson said, thinking to his savior. “She has a daughter somewhere. I never tracked her down. Figured she didn’t need some criminal showing up on her doorstep.” He said. That woman still lived in New York, at least she did. A lot had happened in the last twenty years.
“Ma and pa, they were great. Mom was a woman from Guadalajara, five feet tall, a hundred pounds, didn’t speak a word of English. Which is why I can speak Spanish, by the way. She was a Momma Bear in every sense of the word. One time one of my sisters came in, scared out of her mind because this guy had been following her around. She went outside with a frying pan, and we never saw the guy again.” Tyson said, smiling at the memory. He liked to think she killed the f**ker and stuffed him in a trash can.
“Pop, he was a big motherf**ker. Biggest black man you’ve ever seen, seven feet tall. Couple hundred pounds, Vietnam Vet, toughest bastard in the world. Least, that’s what we all thought. But he was a nice guy. He had the old school morals, to a point. Don’t lay your hands on a woman, keep your word, that kind of stuff. You know what they say. A bad guy with good morals is more like a good guy.” He said.
“So ya, it worked a bit like that. When we were older, we worked for our keep. Pop was big on the value of a days work for a dollar in your pocket.” He said. He was idealizing most of it, of course. His father, in addition to being a good man, was also as cold hearted as they came, when he needed to be. Tyson had been witness to two different occasions where he executed two men who begged for their lives. To this day, he didn’t think much of it. Tyson was sure he’d do the same thing today, if he caught the kind of men they were. He had done it himself, in fact. The reason he was sent to prison, and joined the Army. He knew Aya knew all about that. His file detailed it quite well.
“Only thing I resented when I went into the Army. It felt like I was abandoning them all. I couldn’t go back when I left, they’d have never had me. But I don’t think I’d be alive today if I’d have stayed. It’s a mixed bag…” He said.
“And now, here I am. Dick to live for, on the fast track to the Seventh Circle. And not too unhappy about it. Imagine that. I’m just hoping I get a Greyhound of company when I make that trip.” He said.
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