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@botanyandmanipulation-blog
“She was catapulted through the static wall, into cluttered vastness, the notional void of cyberspace, the bright grid of the matrix ranged around her like an infinite cage.” ― William Gibson
...i keep having this dream...
...that i am in a metal greenhouse...
....and my plants are brains in jars...
...but i do not mind...and i take care of them...
...and then a man comes in...and shoots at the jars...
...and i shield them with my body...
...and i die...
...but the strangest thing of all is...
...though i dream...
...i do not wake up...
...why can’t...i wake up...?
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“There is a difference from moving with the time and getting swept up in it.” He smiled. “But for the most part I agree.”
Chloe smiled back.
“…We’ve not been introduced.” She extended a hand. “…Doctor Chloe Mason. I only really know you as Mr. Wesley…we have a mutual acquaintance.”
He rose a brow, wondering how she knew. “Yes, Wesley, James.” He shook her hand, raising a brow.
“Mr. Rance. He was a former client of mine….” she replied. “…Interesting man. Quite ‘imaginative’.” she said tactfully. “…But, yes. Its so refreshing to meet someone with the same music tastes. Next you’ll be saying you’re a fan of Japanese cuisine and enjoy reading…”
He quickly ran through his mind, trying to remember that name. Nothing came to mind, so it must not have been important. “It’s not the best, but it’s passable. As for reading, if I have time I do enjoy a good book.”
“Sometimes it’s enjoyable to simply escape into a fantasy world after spending the day in this one.” she replied. “...New York has lost it’s shine, Mr. Wesley...”
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“There is a difference from moving with the time and getting swept up in it.” He smiled. “But for the most part I agree.”
Chloe smiled back.
“…We’ve not been introduced.” She extended a hand. “…Doctor Chloe Mason. I only really know you as Mr. Wesley…we have a mutual acquaintance.”
He rose a brow, wondering how she knew. “Yes, Wesley, James.” He shook her hand, raising a brow.
“Mr. Rance. He was a former client of mine....” she replied. “...Interesting man. Quite ‘imaginative’.” she said tactfully. “...But, yes. Its so refreshing to meet someone with the same music tastes. Next you’ll be saying you’re a fan of Japanese cuisine and enjoy reading...”
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“There is a difference from moving with the time and getting swept up in it.” He smiled. “But for the most part I agree.”
Chloe smiled back.
“...We’ve not been introduced.” She extended a hand. “...Doctor Chloe Mason. I only really know you as Mr. Wesley...we have a mutual acquaintance.”
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“You carry around one of those music players?”
“I use the subway. It’s something of a necessity unless I wish to go insane.”
“Besides, sometimes one just has to move with the times. even if you lose quality with it.”
Announcement: Zola-verse
In the Zola Verse, Chloe is currently brain dead. she died protecting Zola’s main servers.
But, Zola has kept her body alive to incubate the twins she successfully conceived.
“No…” He felt an explosion of desperation and pain, emotions he had to immediately put a halt to. He did not have time for all of this chaos inside. Emotions were nothing more than chemical processes of the mind anyway. He took a breath, then began barking orders at his techs. She would have to be placed on a ventilator. Her heart would have to be forced to beat. She would need lines put in for hydration and nourishment. He needed time to decide what to do regarding his offspring. Her body was their life support. Once she was stabilized, he needed to walk away. His emotions kept trying to bleed through.
Chloe’s all but dead body lay on the cold slab, her lungs being forced to breathe, her heart taking uncomfortably alien beats. Her skin was cold, waxy and white.
Her mind had expired as the blood filled up her brain, pouring out of her orafices.
The techs cleaned her up. Wiping the blood from her face and ears, combing it out of her hair before dressing her in a simple white medical gown.
But the embryos were surviving. They were living within her.
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“…coincidentally my own favourite.” She smiled warmly, flicking her eyes over him. “Though there will always be a soft spot in my heart for Debussy. His heady, dreamy, mystical melodies simply inspire…”
“Ah, yes, the impressionist.” Wesley smiled, his mind wandering to his music. “His work is wonderful, however, I prefer Stravinsky over Debussy. Even if Debussy got his inspiration from him.”
“Stravinsky…?” she remarked, impressed tones lifting her voice. “…I take it you’re a strings fan then. I’ll admit…I have a soft spot for Cello’s. There is something very wholesome about taking the large instrument, and feeling the music hum through the wood, through the strings, into yourself…”
“I suppose I am…strings have such power to them. They can captivate so much emotion. I’ve always loved the violin and piano. I learned to play a bit in my time actually. Nothing outstanding, but I can play whatever I chose to.”
“My Cello teacher often said that strings were the lips of the heart and soul. I rather agree with him. Of course, there is still something transcendent about the way that the keys softly hit with piano. Hearing a Clair de Lune can still move my spirit in ways that other pieces cannot…”
“What a wonderful way to look at strings. Music nowadays is just disgraceful.”
“Oh...don’t, please. How can they consider it music? It’s just...well, it’s hardly qualifying as music it all. I suppose my tastes stayed in the 40′s. I don’t really have anything more recent than 1955 on my I-pod. With the exception of neo-classical music bands.”
He gritted his teeth and rose with her in his arms. “I can save you. I can put you in a new body. Like mine.” True, he couldn’t give her the powers she currently possessed, but he could give her all new ones. And more, there was the matter of the recently implanted zygotes. They were still in the period of time waiting to see if the embryos would take. Her test day had been scheduled for the next day.
He carried her past his guards and drones, hurrying to the lab.
“Hold on, Chloe. Just hold on.”
The jostling motion did nothing to help her and she made a soft squeak of pain that would have been a cry if she had breath in her lungs to make it.
She was running out of time. She could feel the warmth leaving her, she could feel it all running away like water down a drain…
“…Ar…Arnim…” she whispered now, urgency in her voice and she coughed, blood spraying over her lips. Her vision was fading now and she did not want her final sight on earth to be the man she loved losing.
“…Stop…” She insisted.
He was as gentle as he could be. “Chloe… Don’t say stop! Why stop? Don’t you want to live?” No matter what her answer was or if she even answered, he still started the life support process. Perhaps her mind was too far gone, but he needed her body to keep going, at least until the blood analysis. He quickly did a draw to test for the hormones of pregnancy.
Chloe looked up at the handsome face, the young features lined with the concern of too many years. He’d seen so much death already…
She knew that one day death would part her from him, and perhaps she did love him a little more than he liked her, but this way…this way was easy…
She’d vowed to give her life for him, and here she was, her life ebbing away while his continued, his data safe in the servers…
She found the strength to lift her hand, her slender fingers grazing his face.
“…I love you, Doctor…Zola…” she murmured, staining the pale flesh red with blood.
“I’m not letting go of you, foolish girl.” He continued triage, sending his little bots in to cauterize wounds and record what data was left to map her mind. The results of the blood test came in, flashing in his mind like an idea. She was pregnant.
“Chloe, you can’t go. You are going to have my babies. Do you understand? You’re a mother."
In spite of his entreaties he still made preparations in case of the worst. He could keep her body alive without her mind if he was forced to. He could even carefully harvest his offspring to be placed in a techno-womb. That wasn’t what he wanted however.
The words only barely permeated her dwindling consciousness, her lips parted slightly in surprise and she made a soft: ‘Oh...’, her eyes now bloody and the pupils blowing wide as the damage spread to her vision centre, taking her vision.
“Arnim...You’re...going to be...a...father...” She smiled sweetly, the blood staining her teeth, her cold thumb pressing into his cheek fondly.
She was gazing blindly into his eyes, and suddenly, it was as if the lights inside her had been switched off.
Her hand fell from his face and her breathing just stopped.
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“…coincidentally my own favourite.” She smiled warmly, flicking her eyes over him. “Though there will always be a soft spot in my heart for Debussy. His heady, dreamy, mystical melodies simply inspire…”
“Ah, yes, the impressionist.” Wesley smiled, his mind wandering to his music. “His work is wonderful, however, I prefer Stravinsky over Debussy. Even if Debussy got his inspiration from him.”
“Stravinsky…?” she remarked, impressed tones lifting her voice. “…I take it you’re a strings fan then. I’ll admit…I have a soft spot for Cello’s. There is something very wholesome about taking the large instrument, and feeling the music hum through the wood, through the strings, into yourself…”
“I suppose I am…strings have such power to them. They can captivate so much emotion. I’ve always loved the violin and piano. I learned to play a bit in my time actually. Nothing outstanding, but I can play whatever I chose to.”
“My Cello teacher often said that strings were the lips of the heart and soul. I rather agree with him. Of course, there is still something transcendent about the way that the keys softly hit with piano. Hearing a Clair de Lune can still move my spirit in ways that other pieces cannot...”
Chloe decided to clear her diary for the rest of the day and take an early lunch followed by retiring to her apartment so that she could shake of the paranoia that being out of the field for so long had left her with.
The woman, was unsettling. The whole situation was.
But she had done all she could. She had handed the information over to the relevant channels and although it somewhat pained her to imagine what Merlin would do when he found the intelligence coming from a highly encrypted source, or how his forehead would furrow behind those impressive glasses he wore–she had done all she needed to.
Though tonight…she may sleep with her mace under her pillow.
Pumping a shot of gel into her hands she worked it in vigorously, before heading to grab her things.
Gazelle followed Valentine around during the rest of the day. The chores weren’t difficult, just boring. But he was the face of the company and the reason it hadn’t been discovered yet.
She laid back in her bed that night, thinking over the plan and everything that would need to be done. Dr Mason might end up being a problem if she contacted that group; Gazelle wasn’t worried. She’d taken out the man in the snow cabin. What more could they bring?
Merlin had received Chloe’s encrypted message and had dispatched Galahad and Mordred to investigate. Within hours, they were scanning security footage of the woman.
Meanwhile, Chloe ensured her home security was up to scratch and that her security knew not to admit anyone to her apartment building who hadn’t been carefully checked first.
"I heard you like Chopin, Mr. Wesley...What is your favourite piece?"
“Has a fellow Chopin fan graced me with their presence? That’s a very difficult question. All his work is wonderful, so passionate and dark, yet it’s delicate and refined. At the moment my favorite is Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2. I know it’s one of his most famous pieces and most likely could be called over rated, however, it’s still a magnificent piece. Last week my favorite was Nocturne in B major, Op. 32, No. 1.”
“…coincidentally my own favourite.” She smiled warmly, flicking her eyes over him. “Though there will always be a soft spot in my heart for Debussy. His heady, dreamy, mystical melodies simply inspire…”
“Ah, yes, the impressionist.” Wesley smiled, his mind wandering to his music. “His work is wonderful, however, I prefer Stravinsky over Debussy. Even if Debussy got his inspiration from him.”
“Stravinsky...?” she remarked, impressed tones lifting her voice. “...I take it you’re a strings fan then. I’ll admit...I have a soft spot for Cello’s. There is something very wholesome about taking the large instrument, and feeling the music hum through the wood, through the strings, into yourself...”
He gritted his teeth and rose with her in his arms. “I can save you. I can put you in a new body. Like mine.” True, he couldn’t give her the powers she currently possessed, but he could give her all new ones. And more, there was the matter of the recently implanted zygotes. They were still in the period of time waiting to see if the embryos would take. Her test day had been scheduled for the next day.
He carried her past his guards and drones, hurrying to the lab.
“Hold on, Chloe. Just hold on.”
The jostling motion did nothing to help her and she made a soft squeak of pain that would have been a cry if she had breath in her lungs to make it.
She was running out of time. She could feel the warmth leaving her, she could feel it all running away like water down a drain…
“…Ar…Arnim…” she whispered now, urgency in her voice and she coughed, blood spraying over her lips. Her vision was fading now and she did not want her final sight on earth to be the man she loved losing.
“…Stop…” She insisted.
He was as gentle as he could be. “Chloe… Don’t say stop! Why stop? Don’t you want to live?” No matter what her answer was or if she even answered, he still started the life support process. Perhaps her mind was too far gone, but he needed her body to keep going, at least until the blood analysis. He quickly did a draw to test for the hormones of pregnancy.
Chloe looked up at the handsome face, the young features lined with the concern of too many years. He’d seen so much death already...
She knew that one day death would part her from him, and perhaps she did love him a little more than he liked her, but this way...this way was easy...
She’d vowed to give her life for him, and here she was, her life ebbing away while his continued, his data safe in the servers...
She found the strength to lift her hand, her slender fingers grazing his face.
“...I love you, Doctor...Zola...” she murmured, staining the pale flesh red with blood.
He gritted his teeth and rose with her in his arms. “I can save you. I can put you in a new body. Like mine.” True, he couldn’t give her the powers she currently possessed, but he could give her all new ones. And more, there was the matter of the recently implanted zygotes. They were still in the period of time waiting to see if the embryos would take. Her test day had been scheduled for the next day.
He carried her past his guards and drones, hurrying to the lab.
“Hold on, Chloe. Just hold on.”
The jostling motion did nothing to help her and she made a soft squeak of pain that would have been a cry if she had breath in her lungs to make it.
She was running out of time. She could feel the warmth leaving her, she could feel it all running away like water down a drain...
“...Ar...Arnim...” she whispered now, urgency in her voice and she coughed, blood spraying over her lips. Her vision was fading now and she did not want her final sight on earth to be the man she loved losing.
“...Stop...” She insisted.
Zola repressed the urge to retch, pulling out a hanky to cover his mouth and nose. It seemed like a paradox but the truth was that blood shed in violence made him feel ill. Blood shed for a medical purpose was fine, but such slaughter? He fought the nausea. Then he saw her.
“Chloe? CHLOE!"
He bounded to her side, his revulsion forgotten. He quickly scanned her, and the results were grim. She was suffering catastrophic brain damage and was fading fast. There was nothing he could do. Not even his nanite technology was enough. Her brain had always been tricky. He pulled her into his arms, cursing in German.
She collapsed limply against his chest, her cheek pressed against his shirt.
The motion seemed to have been enough to rouse her a little and she opened her eyes vaguely.
Her eyes were a light amber, quickly fading to the deepest green that he had ever seen them.
They swiveled vaguely, as if trying to figure out what was going on, she didn’t seem to be in any pain, though the streams of blood that were still pouring from her ears, nose, and eyes indicated otherwise.
Her internal organs were shutting down, her breathing was coming heavy now as her eyes met his.
She gave a soft gasp, and then a vague smile.
“...Arnim...” she breathed shakily.
There was a sad acceptance in her eyes. She knew she was dying.
There had been alarms going off all over the complex. Security had sealed over several of the sectors of the grounds and had completely locked down the server rooms where Zola kept his data archives.
Several loud explosions and screaming had been heard over the comms before they had short circuited leaving the security team baffled.
Fortunately, Zola had not been present during the attack.
Unfortunately, everyone was accounted for with the exception of six security personnel who had been confirmed as dead, and Zola’s student, and lover, Chloe.
As soon as Zola had arrived back at the grounds, he was greeted by the Captain of his security team who informed him quickly what had happened.
A rogue HYDRA squad that had been hiding within SHIELD before going off the radar entirely had forced their way in and had made a beeline for the server rooms. Security hadn’t been able to stop them and Zola’s protege had been recording in there for most of the day.
Comms were down, and the room had been sealed.
And now they were awaiting orders.
To say Zola was outraged would be putting it mildly. He was angered by the loss of some of his servers alone. There had been minds in those servers. Carefully curated and recorded to go into Zolandia. He was angered at having been attacked. He was angered at having been disturbed at all, but all of that paled and fell to the wayside when he got there and found out that Chloe had been inside as well.
He immediately went to work on the doors, having them opened quickly. His own security forces as well as drones were there to finish off any remaining insurgents. He let them work, searching through the ruins for the young woman. He had chosen as a companion.
After the initial few yards of rubble, sparking circuitry and smoke, there was a perfectly clear area that was littered with bodies.
Headless bodies wearing Tac jackets, armor, carrying guns in their lifeless arms.
Headless bodies and sprays of blood, bone and brain that littered the ground like gory confetti with the main server station completely in tact ahead, still flickering brightly in the half light of the room.
And a woman, laying on the ground a short distance away, her limbs in an awkward position, her long black hair fanned out over the floor as if she had simply decided to lay down, her eyes closed, her skin pale, but for streams of blood that seemed to be coming from her eyes, her nose, her ears, her lips...