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@ephemeralkryonics

Subject: LK-520 Current Class: Euclid Security Clearance Level: 5 (Level 6)

Special Containment Procedure: LK-520 is to be kept in a cryo containment chamber at -600F (-351C) at all times in order to keep it in a constant stasis state. By no means will the subject’s cryo temperature be lowered unless specified by Doctor Hanzo Hasashi and Doctor Harumi Hasashi or Level 6 personnel. In the event of a power failure, a generator has been set in place specifically for the cryo containment chamber of LK-520, with a battery life of 600 hours. In absolutely no circumstances will the battery be unplugged from the chamber unless proven to possess a leak and must be repaired, in which case proper specialists will be called on site by Ilaria to fix the problem.

—— The Ilaria Corporation.

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Please provide protocol code. |

❝Doctor Hanzo Hasashi. Code 39866-09265…. Override Harumi Hasashi’s protocol permanently. Code 87654-00986 — Password: 1501. Osaka.❞

Override successful. Please advise. |

❝Bring temperature of LK-520’s containment chamber to -30 degrees throughout a period of forty-eight hours. Do not awaken subject until I say so.❞

Acknowledged. |

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❝I want extra security on this level at all times, but never inside the room. He must never come in contact with security personnel. Understood?❞ Doctor Hasashi. ❝Even when you’re inside the room?❞ Daniel.

❝Especially when I’m inside the room. And that applies to you as well.❞

❝But — ❞, worry etches across the large man’s features, his gaze falling onto the monitor showing a panorama of the large room maintained cold at all times. ❝— what if the same thing happens as last time? Sub Zero could have caused serious damage not just to the base, but to you and — ❞

❝ — I am aware, Daniel❞,Doctor Hanzo Hasashi cuts off his adopted sun briskly, but not unkindly. He knows the risks. He knows what must be done. The sacrifices necessary. Long fingers travel across the colorless screen the color of cloud covered skies, lets them caress where the chamber rests at its center like a coffin with the subject his next experiments rests. ❝But there will be no repeat of last time. Tundra is much more — malleable — than his brother was. The danger is substantial if not nil. I need you and your team to make sure there are no unnecessary ins and outs. And shut down the cameras. There is no need for them. Are we clear?❞

Resolved and resolute, the chief of security nods, pulling his eyes away from the screen and his father’s reaching hand. ❝….Yes, sir.❞

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Forty-eight hours have passed, and now Doctor Hasashi, dressed in thick wool, stands next to the cryo containment chamber, thawed to a proper temperature. The machine next to it beeps with each calm heartbeats — the man inside serene, almost child like in the way he is oblivious to the world around him. Last they saw one another, Harumi was still among them — although LK-520 had been drugged and seldom aware of much, but he had captured Hanzo and his wife’s curiosity, had become their personal pet project. Now Harumi is no more, but the feelings associated with the palid face behind the thick glass has remained, he finds. Something in his gut stirs, makes him shudder despite the his warm attire. Licks his lips and strolls to the nearest console, sliding his hand across the scanner.

❝Doctor Hasashi. Code 39866-09265. Password: 1501. Osaka.❞

Please advise. |

❝Replace stasis agent with waking agent.❞

Acknowledged. Awaking patient. |

It takes several minutes where he watches the body of the subject twitches, little spasms as brain and body become aware of one another once more. Eyes rolling beneath closed eyelids.… Is he dreaming? Or is he in a dark void? Soon Hanzo takes a step back as the thick glass slides downward, icy plumes swirling into the air of the cold room.

Awakening complete. |

❝—— Welcome back, Kuai Liang.❞

#ephemeralkryonics #╰ *:･ﾟthread ──❝ hanzo ❞#╰ *:･ﾟverse ──❝ of silver eyes ❞ ❪ hanzo. ❫#[ oof I hope this works! Lemme know if you'd like me to edit anything! ]#[ also: me? taking inspiration from SCP Foundation? MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK ]

@ephemeralkryonics

Kat hopped off the helicopter and waved to the pilot as they left. She tugged her coat closer to her as she approached the Lin Kuei temple. As soon as she stepped foot on the grounds she could feel eyes watching her as she walked through until she spotted the man she was looking for.

"Grandmaster Sub-Zero?" She asked, trying not to flinch as a sharp breeze blew across her face.

#ephemeralkryonics

@ephemeralkryonics

*:･ﾟ❤️┇ ❝Shit. Shit, shit, shit!❞ Tucked into Cassandra’s hand, the inter dimension device fizzles and dies, its last breath in the form of lights quelled and going dark. She’d hoped the device had survived the attack but as per her luck these days, the stupid thing had gone off-line — would not be recovered. Least — not yet.

What had been meant as a reconnaissance mission had turned bloody so rapidly Cassie can’t recall how it even began beyond the fact a rebel faction had attacked them from the dark corners of the city, forcing the Earthrealm troops out and into the desert, scattering for survival. She’d lost Jacqui in the fray, and her comlink too had sustained too much damage — all the while Frost had followed Cassie out into the wastelands, running as fast as they could away from a fight they were too outnumbered for.

After a while they’d found an opening into a hill, a cave once used by a wild animal Cassie prayed had abandoned or would not return to anytime soon. Outworld animals were generally quite unfriendly and not at all afraid of other creatures.

The commander leans against the wall, her breath still catching in her lungs as she slides down along bedrock until she’s sitting on the cool ground away from suffocating suns — dog day suns which could so easily fry eggs on metal. How Cassie longs for the comfort of her home already, a margarita, some reality television, anything to escape this hell she knows they’ll be surrounded by for god knows how long.

She groans and sighs, holds back from throwing the device somewhere into the dark with frustration. Get a grip, she thinks, this is no time to act out. ❝We’ll be here a while❞, she announces, slouched, ❝better get comfortable. I dunno how long it’ll be before they manage to get everyone back home. Scattering might not have been the smartest thing.❞ A pause. “Should’ve known not everyone was happy with Kitana’s coronation as Kahn.❞

#ephemeralkryonics #╰ *:･ﾟthread ──❝ cassie cage ❞#[ boom here we go! ]

@ephemeralkryonics gets a plotted starter.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥|| Hanzo Hasashi remains submerged in the touch of fog; counting the time passed in inhalations and exhalations, as the sensation of pond water hugging his legs continue as if he’s softly kicking them in the water with every step he takes. His heart beats slowly, his thoughts submerged in the rustling of the familiar leaves, the universe’s intake of breath, the gentle rain landing on the sodden ground. The Shirai Ryu Grandmaster is in the water, as the susurrations of descending rain contours on and through him. How the breeze of triumphant victory as the breeze runs its cherishing hands across every dip and curve of his exhausted body. He closes his eyes briefly, encased in the touch of fog as the night’s lull settles into the effulgent colors of the Fire Gardens, sighing, mouth shaping into a lazy smile as he exhales a little puff of hot air into the caring cold.

Every sensation seems to be amplified, except pain. It’s not pain anymore; it’s not the abysmal emptiness in where his heart used to hurt. Hanzo thinks it has all burned to ashes now. Hollow and light, there’s no one to miss anymore no longer. The pain of forgetting and moving on has taken a lot out of him, yet paradoxically, he had always feared for this very day. The very day when he was finally going to drown in the depths of his love, overbrimming and saturating the depths of his heart, Smiles abound, his eyes lock as renewed vigor incites his heart and cheeks. How it races and they flush. The carnal conversation flowing as if his body and soul wanted to reach towards Kuai Liang’s like flowers seeking the sun. How everything would spill from his lips like pristine waters from a celestial fountain.

Sparked on by the ash of the long battle and fire that begin its delicate dance around his swelling heartstrings, the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster’s form dances amidst the moonbeams’ pattern saturating the conglomerated warriors standing erect in victory. Even in the clustered universe where so many remain gathered in groups, Hanzo witnesses the Lin Kuei secluded amidst the grounds, with his eyes distant, well past the boundary of the steep bridge connecting the Compounds and the village. Perhaps settled on a particular strand of memory, the plunging depths of his psyche as he too, was prone to remain distant with the reality unfurled out for him.

“It’s exquisite finally listening to the embellished notes on the sweet sounds of the quenching rain that washes away all the trials and tribulations we have faced all these years,” heightened percussions of his heart flows through the slopes of his musculature, and he sighs, his gaze too, somewhere locked past the compacted forest above the clear lake, as pitter-patter of the drops disturb the once deathly still surface. “I have been waiting for the most opportune time to tell you this, considering, we have been occupied with circumstances unavoidable and grave. Please, follow me to my quarters if you would.” The furnace in wrapping, the resonance of his aureate warmth dances in rhythm as bare skin brushes against the shimmer of his lover’s shoulder, before letting his fingers clasp around Kuai’s palm. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii)#ephemeralkryonics

@ephemeralkryonics

:･ﾟ 💉┇ Slick and almost sensual, the Tesla has come and gone around the many turns of the mountainous roads, its wheels signing like frying steaks on broken asphalt. Spectacular view, first as they crossed the mountain, and then as they entered deeper into the wilderness and the road became a two way with little to no indication of anyone else on said trek. Radio plays Bach, very low, almost inaudible, before a deep but soothing voice makes conversation with the auditor, jazz smooth, hedonistic — Hanzo impatient, waiting for the next song to relax him as he crosses the edge of the mountain and then downward, closer to ground, until finally he can see the lake peering from the trees.

Gazes to the side and finds Kuai Liang in the passenger seat, eyes closed and his rhythmic breathing slowed, beautiful lips slightly parted. Asleep, somewhere in a dream from which he cannot reach him or touch him, and he hopes his dreams are good ones — maybe even — he is a part of it. Peaceful and soft, his lover like a flower about to close itself as the sun dips the horizon, clinging to the light yet relaxed and serene all at once.

Soon asphalt gives way to a dirt road, but Kuai does not awaken, only stirs and turns his head away toward the open window. Vegetation denser — green and lush in stark contrast with the Arctic. More twists and turns, scent of pine and cool water as they cross the bridge onto the island, small but secluded from Annapolis Royal, into further wilderness until the cabin comes into view: wooden logged, one floor but large in their peripheral.

Hanzo parks the car before a corded bundle of logs; an ax dipped into the large stump. Turns off the car — radio goes completely silent — for a moment he takes in the melody of nature: rustling leaves, waves of the lake at the pier, occasional bird chirping — before he brings his hand upon Kuai’s shoulder gently, calling his name carefully. ❝We’re here.❞

#ephemeralkryonics #╰ *:･ﾟthread ──❝ hanzo ❞#╰ *:･ﾟverse ──❝ of silver eyes ❞ ❪ hanzo. ❫#[ yasss ]

@ephemeralkryonics

:･ﾟ🔥┇ Perhaps he should have been afraid, although of what, he would not be able to tell. It is an internal worry — something deep caged within his core, ingrained cavernously, into the pit of his belly. Perhaps he is afraid after all: is this the flutter he feels? Harumi had once claimed they were butterfly wings, great big and exotic creatures with powdered wings brushing the lining of his insides. He used to have them often — not so much now. Anger had replaced the pretty creatures with black birds pecking his organs until he could take no more, until he would explode, until his fire would burst in waves of embers and licks of flames.

It is not exactly fear — perhaps a mixture of jovial excitement and worry — worry that Kuai Liang may not feel the same connection he does to the ritual. He strives to offer condolences, not just for his family but Kuai Liang’s as well — most of all the one family Kuai possessed who was stripped away from him years ago by Scorpion’s hand. Hanzo observes the three lanterns resting upon the table next to the hanging traditional yukata’s. One for each important individual in their lives, that which would be sent back to the world of the dead tonight upon the river. The outside of his living quarters have been decorated proper for the few days of the Obon Festival, as have many household in the Shirai Ryu compound — hanging lanterns lit up at night, the few children laughing and playing and dancing — Hanzo had lit bonfires in the mountain ridge near for the evenings of the Festival for each day at night. Tonight some of his disciples would take care of them for he would be busy with important company.

He only just finished pinning three red roses as a small bouquet to one of the lanterns when he is informed his guest has arrived. ❝Very well, bring him in❞, he orders, his voice smooth and running on warm waters as he adds the last pin to the ornament: three roses, one abloom, its petals wide and inviting, one still young and not quite open, and one completely closed.

Hearing the shuffling footsteps he can feel the wings within begin to run their course all over again. Deep breath. Release. Hanzo swivels in place. Offers a gentle but reserved smile as Kuai Liang finds his way within the Grandmaster’s living quarters. It’s almost always strange to see the Lin Kuei Grandmaster without his fighting attire — like seeing another layer, peeled and revealed. With a nod and respectful bow, Hanzo adds: ❝I trust your trek here was a good one, Kuai Liang. It is good to see you.❞

#ephemeralkryonics #╰ *:･ﾟthread ──❝ hanzo ❞#[ hope this works! Lemme know if I should edit or add/remove anything! <3 ]

@ephemeralkryonics

*:･ﾟ❤️┇ Nothing. There’s a great nothingness to her, in her eyes, a void, devoid of light, what makes Cassandra Cage who she is — who she was. Slick with sweat for Outworld’s temperature tends to be almost insufferable during the day, even in the shadows of the dungeons — like lubricants, her legs keep moving with the wetness; dirt stuck to her skin. Laying on her side, curled up into a ball, her head rests on a bundle of cloth she’d found from the last prisoner being taken away — thin, hideous smell like piss and shit, but it’s better than a sharp piece of bedrock sticking into her temple.

She’s not crying, though there is great pain within, inside, outside — almost seems marvelously indifferent to it though it is prominent. What they’ve done to her once taken to Outworld is indescribable — enough to break a sane mind into shattered pieces. Days. Weeks? Time is different from one realm to another. What seems like weeks in Outworld may be a few hours in Earthrealm — or perhaps it is the opposite — she can’t recall, and it does not matter anyway. What lies there, rearranged in the shape of her suffering, wearing a loin cloth and a piece of ripped fabric across her chest, is nothing but a husk, a shadow of what once was, hair untied and messy, full of dirt and knots; eyes reddened, scabs all over. Once in a while, her head lifts, then falls back. On and on amidst psychotic agony, mental and physical.

There is little to no reaction when the footsteps are first heard. Eyes shift, follow the clumping sound, is awarded with the sight of boots, multiple boots, and suddenly a noise, like a dying animal, a pathetic whine, births from her pulsing throat — moist palms push into the dry earth, her feet kicking, as she crawls back and away until her spine is shaped against the wall behind her — chains, heavy, follow her movements with a clink and a clank. Her entire perception skewed, the commander huddles, crumbles and shrivels in hopes of not being seen, in hopes of disappearing. Can’t take much more of this, her mind on the brink, it may well break entirely the next time they take her away and back into this cell, assuming she survives.

Hears her name but it feels so far away: another illusion, another game. It’s not real. None of it is real. Not real. Not real. Not real.