#0e ic

[maddeningscience-blog]

This Is No Place For Science

Dark eyes cracked open, only to narrow in a wince in an attempt to get rid of the pain from the sudden bright light that flooded the owner’s vision. He realized that his head hurt... more than that, it also felt a little strange.

A moment or two found the professor sitting up, every passing second clearing his mind and body of the dizzying haze that seemed to envelope them. A quick scan of the room told him that this was no familiar place. Although it did feel somewhat similar to the holding cells in the Shinra Headquarters, it was nowhere near the same.

Hojo paused when his gaze fell onto a bed opposite his---or, more accurately, the being lying in that bed.

Whenever he was sure that he could stand without his legs giving out, he did so, making his way slowly over to the other bed to examine the creature.

His gait was nothing more than a slow, shuffling walk, the sound of boots scuffing the floor filling the room as he traveled, stopping as he reached the edge of the bed, a little too close for any normal person’s comfort. The man knew no boundaries, or... rather, did not care about them.

For what would seem to be the longest time had the subject of study been awake, the scientist simply stared silently from behind rounded glasses.

There seemed to be nothing unusual about the other until he discovered the bracelet it wore, and, out of curiosity, checked his own wrist for a similar device. As he did indeed have one, he simply said “ah, yes,” and then proceeded to check his pockets for anything else that may have been planted on him.

A note was produced, but he didn’t quite understand the meaning of it, yet. The room would once more be filled with the scuffing sounds of his shuffling as he went about searching it.

[homicidewithlove-blog]

Visit Original Link

[redheadedpest]

Waking the Monster

Reno just watched in silence as Vincent walked away, not putting up a fight for some reason. Being contrary was something he excelled at, so it was a little odd whenever he didn't open his mouth and instead just allowed the other to leave.

It was no surprise that he was left to his own devices, though, probably one reason he wasn't putting up a fight. It was no secret that he was extremely skilled, and so was Vincent, in the art of self-defense, so it wasn't as though he needed to be protected. Julian, on the other hand... well, he didn't seem to be a very combative guy, at least.

After the pair disappeared behind the double doors, Reno noticed a brown door that nobody had mentioned. Maybe they didn't see it? It would have been a little hard to see at the angle that Vincent had been standing at.

A few twists of the knob revealed that it was locked. Useless. Splitting up was the better idea, even to him, so he did just as he was ordered and rather than follow Vincent and the horse, he made his way into and through the blue door to the right of the R.P.D.'s entrance.

The first thing he noticed... the smell of death. It wasn't just ordinary death, though. It was the smell of rotting corpses that had probably been in such a state for at least a good little while. It made him want to gag, but he swallowed the feeling and pressed on.

Squish. Squish. Squish.

The sound of footsteps in blood was never a pleasant one, but this was... it seemed much worse than usual. It sounded... odd, to say the least, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint why.

All thoughts of the bloody, smelly room all but vanished when the redhead saw a few humanoid figures lying on the floor. A short sprint soon found him in the midst of what appeared to have been a violent massacre, bodies strewn out all over the place.

There was plenty of blood, and plenty of bullet holes in some of the bodies, but that barely phased him. He'd seen much worse, and while it was somewhat disconcerting, if only for the fact that there had been a slaughter in a place unfamiliar to him, the thing he was more concerned about for the time being was what appeared to be the glinting, shiny metal of a gun under the hand of the largest body.

The Turk wasted no time in kneeling next to the 'body' and not-so-gingerly removing the hand that was about twice the size of his own from the weapon in order to take it for himself.

"Jackpot," he said, simply, but not quietly.

[homicidewithlove-blog]

SECOND WIND

Krieg recovers from the brink of death for the nth time, this time sprawled out over a bed that is much too small for him.

(Where are we now?) says his inner voice

"RGH" Krieg is reminded of the equally-tiny stretcher that once had a hand in turning him into to the beast that he has become. "RRRRRAAAGH"

The thought makes him angry. So angry that he forgets what he was angry about.

(Calm down, you might hurt someone!)

Looking around the nearly-bare room he spots the only other being in the room in a bed across from his. 

(Could it be her?) 

A dumb question, but he could only hope. The girl laying there had bright green hair and impossible body proportions compared to any other human he had seen. Maybe she was mutated as well? He clumbered over to the bed where she lay. "HEEAAAAAAYAY! WAKE UP! WE'VE GOT PEOPLE TO HURT!"

[datprosthetic]

http://datprosthetic.tumblr.com/post/112098500442/it-just-keeps-getting-better

The silence was almost.. nice, actually. One could almost get away from all thoughts of responsibilities and chores and honey-do lists; after all, they no longer mattered when one was not sure where they even-- The sudden start was more than enough to cause White himself to jerk from his thoughts. "Ga-ah-d damnit!" he snapped, "What the fucking fuck is with you!" The bastard had awoken as if something had just.. breathed life into him, rather than rousing from a slumber. Paired with his almost risen-from-the-fucking-grave look, he appeared terrified, mortified, horrified- and his eyes! They wouldn't leave White's face. Somehow the wide-eyed stranger's unending gaze was unnerving.. unsettling. And that was the nicest way to put it. It didn't take long for the sickly boy to grow perturbed; he shifted uncomfortably on his bed, gazing right back. "Stop it. Stop staring."

[datprosthetic]

It just keeps getting better.

Nothing but black. A confusing, frustrating, almost maddening hole where there had once been a memory. Something had happened last night, and he couldn't account for any of it at all. All he had to go off of was the sheer feeling of dread that had translated through the event - and even now his blood felt as if it were laced with ice. The lad rubbed his shoulder worriedly, habitually, where prosthetic met skin.  Someone had been in his house. Fear could only tell him so much, leaving instead more questions than answers: had it been.. him? Had they come to take him back? Had they.. succeeded?  For what felt like the hundredth time, White peered around with a furrowed brow. No, not unless there had been an upgrade from the bloody stone ages. This place was modern, dare he say normal. It looked like any old room, perhaps a hotel room. But.. that was unlikely. Hotel rooms didn't have doors like the one that barred his way now, and they certainly didn't have schmucks dressed like they belonged in a LARP just passed out on another bed.  He'd tried, once or twice, at least, to wake the stranger.. not that he'd given it much effort. Part of him didn't want the guy to wake up, because then they'd both be stuck in this damned room! That was the last thing White needed. Fuck.  White brought a hand to his brow. Okay. Okay. Think, White. Think. Don't panic. How the fuck did you end up here...  And why was he.. afraid?

[bloodiestvalentine-blog]

A Whisper in the Breeze..

The sky was clear, blue as a robin's egg. The grass that formed his bed was warm, lush.. the breeze was just enough to tousle his hair with gentle fingers, and the sun bathed his body in a comfortable warmth. With the breeze danced a melodic tune.

Vincent.. .... .. Vincent, are you sleeping? Here? .. .......  Your eyes.. open your eyes.  That voice.. it was back. The voice of his conscience, of his memories, a sweet, airy breath of wind that rolled through his mind. He would always, always be haunted.

Vincent's eyes slowly opened. The warmth, the sky, the wind and sun, it was all gone. In its stead was an unfamiliar, bland ceiling, a bed lacking in luxury, and the lackluster glare of artificial lighting. Where...  His head tilted to the side. He could see the form of something.. something strange. Something blue, something.. was it a horse? A monster? One of Reeve's new toys, perhaps? They were always somewhat peculiar.. the man had interesting taste.  He made no sound, save the creak of the bed as he sat up, eyes flicking about the room. He recognized nothing - not the walls, the flooring, the peculiar door or the stranger in the bed opposite of him. He had no recollection as to how he came to be here, either.. Curious, his hand reached for his side -- when it found no purchase, it fell to the bed again. Cerberus was gone. Seems it had been opted out for a bracelet of some kind, a dastardly looking piece of technology.  His gaze landed on the stranger. "Reeve?" came the quiet rasp of his voice.

[redheadedpest]

Out of the Frying pan and Into the... Well, Whatever This Is

The smell and feel of.... building wasn't an unfamiliar one to the redhead, so, in his subconscious, there didn't seem to be any reason for alarm. However, to his body, it somehow felt different, perhaps as though he shouldn't be there. It could be due to the drugs, but, of course, his brain couldn't exactly register that at the moment, as he didn't know exactly what was going on in order to put two and two together.

He woke up with a start as soon as his mind was functioning well enough to do so, immediately jerking up into a sitting position. Whether he was used to the feeling of metal and cement or not, something just didn't sit right with him, and he couldn't quite get it to, either, as much as he was trying to ignore it. There was a strange feeling in his gut and the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end.

Taking in a view of the strange room didn't help, either, as one may imagine. It looked similar to the prisoner cells in the building that he mostly called home, yet... not exactly the same. Was he a prisoner? Was he going to be an experiment? Did he mess something up so badly that he was being punished?

First thing's first, he went about checking himself, patting his clothing down and checking his pockets. No items. No stun baton. No gun. Well, that would make sense, if he was being detained for some reason, wouldn't it? The majority of the people in the company he worked for were average humans that he could easily take out, even with none of those things.

What he did find, however, was a piece of paper and a new... bracelet? Watch? What was this thing? it was ugly and not something he would ever agree to wear. Naturally, without reading the note first, he struggled with the bracelet, trying to get it off. The more he tried, the more it seemed to resist, so he decided to finally check the note, which only made the sinking feeling in his gut deepen.

"This someone's idea of a sick joke?" he asked, out loud, to nobody in particular, not expecting a reply, either. Up to this point, he'd failed to notice anything else about the room.

The numbered symbols were lost on him. After staring blankly at the piece of paper for a few moments, he crumpled it up and tossed it in no direction in particular.

It wasn't that he was dumb... if he was, Shinra would have never bothered to hire him. Perhaps it was more like... he wasn't exactly motivated enough to learn what that shit meant.

Surely, if he was being held prisoner, the rest of the Turks would show up and bust him out, right? That was something they were supposed to do for each other.