Inception: Brave New World

[Undead]

 

 

The Story So Far...

 

Time has a funny way of changing things.

 

As the world spins, the sun sets and the moon rises, day after day. Year after year. And yet, the one thing that never changes is time itself. The world is always spinning. Whether or not we can all keep up depends on us. Some of us run to achieve our lifelong goals. Some of us run to make the world a better place. Some of us run because we strive to better our own lives.  Some of us just have to run a little bit faster than everyone else and hope we're running in the right direction. Then some of us aren't even sure if the world is spinning at all anymore...

 

The struggle between freedom of imprisonment, torture and experimentation and our inner selves was constant. Fighting for our lives not only meant defending ourselves, but for something normal; Freedom. Peace. Jumping between time and space seemed to be the only escape in each life-threatening situation, but yet each jump seemed to throw us in a time of chaos and destruction, or a realm of post-apocalyptic destruction where only the undead roam the scorched remains of Earth. Some fought to the death, some disappeared without a trace. And some kept fighting for redemption.

 

How long has it been? Days, Months, Years... No one really knows for sure. But between the things we've seen, the things we've been through, I'm not so sure time even truly exists. Each world, each fate, each existence differs tremendously from the last. Are we to parish in a burning wave of fire that swallows the earth? Or is this a chance to choose our own fate?

 

The choice is ours.

 

The Cast:

 

Undad: 

 

 

Character Name: Kasady Rhoads

 

Age: 26

 

Generation: 1940's

 

Appearance: Kasady (in front)

 

Abilities: Telekinesis

 

Bio: 

Kasady was born and raised by her grandparents after her mother passed away and her father and older brother joined the Marines at a young age. She spent most of her childhood assisting her grandparents with their old antique collectors shop during open hours. During a snowy October evening as the store was closing, young Kasady and her Grandfather were suddenly greeted by Nazi officers. Before they entered the store, Kasady was given a small tin container with strict instructions to never open it as her grandfather hurried her out the back door. Kasady distraught, held the small container closely with curiousity as commotion between her grandfather and the officers grew louder. 

 

Kasady curiosity got the better of her, she couldn't resist. Opening the small container revealed a glowing rock, flowing and vibrating with energy. It was no bigger than a marble. Kasady's heart immediately stopped as she heard gunfire followed by a slamming door. Rushing back in only to find her grandfather lying cold and lifeless on the floor of his own store. Kasady, blanketed in grief mourned over her grandfather's body, clenching a fist round the small rock, unaware of how it burned its way through her palm and into her hand. 

 

Kasady dedicated her life to find out what the Nazi's were after and what exactly her grandfather gave to her that was so important. She joined the marines as soon as she was able, following in her families footsteps. Kasady enlisted on several classified Black Ops missions that had anything related to her research. During a search for the origin of the mysterious glowing rock, she had vivid dreams and visions, which eventually led to some unusual phenomenon within herself. In desperate attempt to find out some answers, Kasady and her squad were either KIA, or captured by a top-secret Nazi force. It was only then did Kasady's real answer manifested from herself.

 

Rissole25: 

Character Name: Tia Rydia

 

Age: 22

 

Generation: 1940's

 

 

Appearance: Tia (in back)

Tia has long wavy blue hair, and blue eyes. She wears flat pink shoes, and sports a pink dress/frock.

 

 

Abilities: Life Siphon

Tia is mainly a Healer, who can heal people on contact, or at a small distance in certain circumstances. She can heal non-lethal injuries normally, as well as near life-threatening injuries, although this takes up a huge amount of her energy.

Tia can also inflict Pain. It is rare when she does, only when her emotions are heightened. Tia does not like to use it often, as it inflicts pain on her too. Only in the most difficult situations will she use it.

 

Bio: 

Tia was your average Australian young woman. She was timid and an introvert, but she always tried to please others. She had run a small pawn shop her father, who disappeared when she was young, had owned. After randomly discovering she had the power of healing, she was suddenly transported across the world, where she met other individuals who had powers like herself. They escaped in the chaos of the Der Riese incident, and traveled across time. She discovered along the way, a rather terrible power of inflicting pain, which contradicted her entire personality.

 

After her and Kasady were separated from their friends, she discovered that her father had worked for Walter Emmerich, a sinister German psychopath with powers himself, who wanted more. Emmerich had sneaked a 115 stone into the locket Tia's father had given her, which in turn resulted in Tia's powers and hazy memories of her childhood. After a standoff with Emmerich in a closed down theater, she was teleported across time and space.

 

Now in 2025, Tia faces a brand new world unlike anything she has ever seen or experienced before.

 

Faust:

 

Character Name: Benny “The Blowfish” Barefield

Age: 26 years-of-age at the time of exposure to element 115.

Generation: 1890s*

*Can be encountered at any time after due to an extremely long lifespan, but with his sanity less and less intact. I recommend hiring him sooner rather than later if you want to make any use of him.

Abliity: Can breathe underwater, above average strength, and can operate most firearms with light training.

Appearance:

Standard six-and-a-half foot tall “Deep One” of Lovecraftian mythos. Benny goes to great (almost comical) lengths to deny the fact that he no longer retains any human characteristics. Known to dress himself up in the nicest set of human clothing he can find and proudly wears a badge that reads “Pinkerton National Detective Agency” on his left breast pocket. Carries a silver pocket watch which he will wind compulsively when under stress.

See below picture for general reference.

http://i490.photobuc...ll-Martinez.jpg

 

Bio:

 

While Benny may appear to be creature of ancient decent, one might be surprised to learn that he was once as dreadfully “normal” as any other mundane bloke. Born in London’s East End, he grew up as a penniless street urchin with little joy in his life save for the thrill of swiping anything of value from the occasional unsuspecting passersby. This continued well into his adult years, until 1888 came ‘round and gave rise to the advent of the serial killer known colloquially as “Jack the Ripper.” Well, some say Benny got a bit Tom-and-Dick of getting plastered every night only to stagger home knowing the Jack could be just around the bend. Gathering what little money he had saved, Barefield took one last tug on his bottle of brandy and boarded a ship set for Ellis Island.

Hoping to make it big in the Colorado gold rush of 1890, Benny boarded a train west immediately after setting foot in America. He never reached Cripple Creek, only making it as far as Pennsylvania before being tossed from the caboose for trying to cop a feel on some poor bloke’s wife. (He always did figure himself a ladies’ man before the incident.)

Abandoned with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small knapsack brimming with bottles of various alcoholic substances, Benny ditched his dream of fame and riches and set about beginning his new life right there in Philadelphia. In time he managed to land a job working for the Pinkertons, earning himself a rather distinguished reputation for preemptively assaulting groups of union employees. On more than one occasion, Benny would single handedly shake down labor rallies in full view of law enforcement. Any who refused were immediately clubbed into submission.

When the Homestead Steel Strike erupted, Benny was one of the first men off the docks as the corporate mercenaries made landfall. Even after the Pinkertons’ formally surrendered and Hugh O'Donnell called for all security forces to relinquish their arms, a misguided Barefield continued to fight on as he pushed forward into the factory itself. He quickly found himself detached from his comrades and surrounded on all sides. Rather than negotiate, he drove further into the heart of the factory. There in the hellish, charred darkness of the sweatshops Benny discovered the true source of the riot.

Carnegie, it seemed, was hording an ancient evil within Homestead Steel Works. Before Benny stood a massive lump of unprocessed ore that seemed to radiate at primordial energy and cast large arches of electricity into the air around the aforementioned. Around the stone shadowy figures seemed to dart from post to pillar, never remaining visible for more than a few seconds at a time. Figuring them all deranged workers, Benny dispatched every single one of them without remorse before rushing further into the darkness. He wandered the facility all night long, defending himself as more and more fiends descended upon him. Once the sun rose he was able to find an exit, mere moments before the state militia stormed the grounds.

He did not escape unscathed though. Not long after making contact with that stone, Benny fell ill with a highly peculiar skin condition that eventually twisted him into the being you see today. Though he denies it, he secretly knows that he has become a nightmarish abomination. Still, he goes to incredible lengths to attempt to live a normal life in seclusion. Eventually he came to settle in a long abandoned home just west of Arkham, Massachusetts. Occasionally whispers of “Blowfish Benny” will crop up in nearby taverns, coupled with rumors of a vulgar ex-Pinkerton willing to act as hired muscle… For a price.

 

 

[perfectlemonade:

 

Character Name: Christian Cobden

 

Age: 26

 

Generation: 2020's

 

Abliity: 

Undetectable by undead, does not tire, sleep, hunger (except sometimes for human flesh), or thirst, and possesses a connection to the undead hive mind

 

Appearance: 

He's actually a zombie. About 5'9 though, thin, weak, kind of emaciated. Brown hair, muddy eyes, kind of awkward, but a very emotionally mature guy with a great sense of right and wrong.

 

Bio:

 In 2014, at the age of 15, Christian Cobden was shot in the head in a school shooting. He barely survived and was paralyzed from the eyes down, a condition otherwise known as 'locked-in syndrome'. Now he's 26. Between hundreds of hours of physical therapy and a decade of his life to heal, Christian slowly began to overcome his condition.

 

He's regained limited speaking ability and some movement of his arms, but he's still dependent on the care of his mother and the company of his two best friends Elijah and Madeline. Christian is, unfortunately, infected with the element when his zombified mother bites him during his sleep. Christian is able to fend her off with his one good hand, and it only takes a minute for him to become a zombie. But, curiously, even with the process complete, Christian is still, somehow, in control of his body. He looks at himself in the mirror—he is clearly dead, his heart is not beating, he is not breathing, but he has control of his movements. In fact, he can now walk and run and move even better than he could before the accident.

 

It occurs to him that perhaps the very condition that plagued him for 10 years is what prevented 115 from completely taking over his body. Christian finds that the undead, which have taken over his entire hometown of DeWitt, Michigan and presumably the rest of the world, pay no attention to him, and he hears and feels the pull of something inside his head, which he realizes is the undead hive mind. But then the harsh reality of the situation hits Christian: his mother is dead, and Elijah and Madeline, who live together in an apartment on the other side of town, may be in serious trouble. With that thought, Christian races to find his best friends, and thus begins the RP.

 

MegaAfroMan:

 

Character Name: Marshall Meier

Age: 27

Generation: 2020's

Abliity:

Manipulation of, temporary storage of, and minor generation of electrical energy.

Also, trained electrical engineer, with a strong understanding of circuitry and operation of most electronics.

Appearance:

Paler than your average white guy, skin turns a slight bluish color while supernatural abilities are active. Effect is nearly unnoticeable with small currents or short durations, can become quite severe in extreme situations.

About 5'7", average build. Could be healthier, but certainly not unhealthy in any major way. 

Wiry copper colored hair, about 2 inches in length (yes I'm aware this makes me a ginger, and therefore without a soul.)

Often wears a brown duster, black rubber gloves (to avoid accidentally arcing if generating or storing electrical energy) custom brown leather hiking boots with small circular copper plates replacing small patches of the rubber insoles to force excess current to ground instead of discharge.

Black heavy duty cargo pants, lined with pockets full of spare bits of wire or circuit boards or whatever goodies can be found (slight hording complex), and plain black t-shirt under the duster.

Bio:

Born in 1998, Marshall Meier was the son of scientists. His family had always been scientists as far back as he could look, always interested in research and experiments. If you went back far enough you'd find that his family was involved in top secret projects for the Third Reich in World War 2, but those days are long past and something that is rarely acknowledged, with heirlooms from that generation missing from the otherwise unbroken line of mementos. Instead they were hidden away in storage.

Marshall was smart, always breaking things to look at how they worked. After taking enough things apart, he was eventually able to put things back together. As he grew he began finding ways to make new things out of the broken parts of multiple old things, and it always seemed to be much more appealing than writing down observations, solving algebraic equations, and conducting controlled experiments. 

After studying in university on a path to a PhD in Micro-circuitry he abruptly quit in the middle of his graduate research and began traveling and tinkering, determined to make his life more interesting than the procedural and careful lives of his parents and ancestors.

During his travels, he came across some startling realizations of who he was. He had discovered that his body naturally produced a low level current of electricity. Usually it flowed into the ground beneath him, and during contact with other people, it at most manifested in raised arm hair in the affected individual. But it was still completely unusual. 

He began to experiment with what he could do and found that he could absorb electrical energy from chemical batteries, or through certain cords adapters. The energy then could be released immediately as soon as it flowed in, or he could redirect some of it into his own body for temporary storage. 

Not finding any massive practical uses out of this, and afraid of being outcast even further than he already was he kept this mostly to himself and took precautions to not lose control and let on that something was not normal about him.

 

xAvengedLullabyx:

 

Character Name: Sasha, unknown last name

 

Age: 22, each year is carved as a tally mark in her arm

 

Generation: 2000's

 

Appearance:

Her hair is dark red, like her fathers, and her eyes are a bright turquoise color, like her mothers.  She has pale skin due to being kept inside all her life.  There is a scar on the back of her neck that forms a strange pattern, but no one knows how she got it.

 

Abilities:

She can control the souls of the deceased that remain on earth; is easily frightened which stops the flow of energy; when she is angered the energy from the souls turn her into a hulking beast that only lasts a short duration as it drains her life and renders her unconscious, making her incredibly vulnerable

 

Bio:

Sasha had always been an interesting girl.  When she was young, her father passed away due to a mysterious illness that had plagued him all his life, leaving her with her mother and brother.  At the age of five, her mother became concerned when she would catch Sasha talking with an unseen visitor, or would see faint projections of someone playing with her.  She was immediately pulled out of school and banned from ever leaving the house.  Over the years Sasha grew lonely, her ghostly companions the only friends she had, other than her family.  Her naivety surrounding the outside world caused her to act dangerously, unaware of what might happen if her power was ever discovered by someone.

 

MyLittleHellhound:

 

Character Name: Isis

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Country of Origin- Egyptian/Chinese

 

Generation: 2000's

Appearance-

Slightly bronzed skin,

Long, silky black hair

5"6

Slim figure

Abilities- 

Able to use light and shadow energies to sear, vaporize, compress, and otherwise injure her enemies. Effectiveness of the power is determined by how much light or shadow there is in the current situation.

 

Bio-

Isis was born to two extraordinary cartographers. Named after the Egyptian goddess of magic,Isis grew up under the influence of both her mother and father's firm belief in the gods and the supernatural. 

As soon as Isis could be trusted not to run off on her own, her parents took her to the Great Pyramid. They entered, with a team, and as Isis walked through the tight and undisturbed corridors she couldn't help but feel the power. It was radiating from the age-old stones and the smooth floors. They eventually came to a long dark tunnel. Her parents went first, lighting the way ahead with a powerful torch. She was next. As she walked, the heavy thrum of power grew stronger. She couldn't see the torch or the people behind her, even though they should have just been feet away. The shadows closed in around her, and when they touched her, she saw the Egyptian gods. An man with the head of an eagle bathed in pure light parted the shadows, his chestpiece inlaid with a single glowing amber rock. It was Ra, she knew that much. 

"Where there is the brightest lights, there are also the deepest shadows child." 

He smiled at her, his eyes two blazing suns. And then she was back in the present, lying in a hospital bed.

She felt the change as much as she discovered it. At the edges of her vision, she could see the balance of shadows and lights. She could even manipulate them if she wished. Isis knew she shouldn't be able to do this, but she kept honing her manipulation until she could even open holes that lead to nowhere. She could create the brightest light with a snap of her fingers.

She knew the rock had given her powers. She didn't know it would shatter her life.

 

-----------------

 

How to Join:

 

Wanna join in on the action? Well register fast! To keep a steady pace and avoid overwhelming numbers, I'm limiting the number of participants to 8 players/writers. There's also no guarentee you'll be accept either, all participants submit a character sheet to me via PM and will be evaluated for approval. If you wish to apply, complete and send this exact form:

 

 

Character Name:

 

Age:

 

Generation:

 

Abliity:

 

Appearance:

 

Bio:

 

Rules

 

Yes, there are rules. But just a couple basic ones everyone needs to keep in mind for entries.

 

1. Dialog in entries will use certain colors to distinquish what type of Dialog is being used. Grey will before your characters thoughts. Yellow for any kind of mind reading or inner 3rd party voice. Cyan for flashbacks or events of the past.

 

2. No "God-Modding". Your character is not invincible, some demon creature who turns into Satan and controls the Aether. This also means don't take control of another players character and do something major without some kind of consensus as well. Any sub-plots among characters can be discussed via discussion PM.

 

3. Inception is BASED off zombies. That means references to Zombie locations or other elements may be used, but should not be a direct focus. No one will have a tussle with Richtofen or drink a Juggernog for extra power. This isn't zombies, we're just using the foundation of the storyline to make our own spin-off story.

 

News & Info

 

 

July 23, 2014 - Inception LIVES!

 

Welcome CoDz to the latest edition of a CoDz original Role Playing story, Inception!

 

After talking with the old cast of the original Inception RP and writing my own personal spin-off titled "Inception: Kasady Disclassifed", we decided to give this whole thing another go! Believe it or not, the original Inception started 2 years ago, flippin' crazy, but loads of good times. So, for any readers of my story or of the original Inception, we hope you enjoy this new RP and follow along with us!

 

For those who haven't been keeping updated on Inception or are unfamiliar with it, allow me to give a very basic overview of what the hell this is all even about: 

 

"Inception" is a Role Playing story where everyone adds bits and pieces of their own with their own characters to make one massive story. This RP in particular is obviously based off of Zombies. Here is the overview:

 

"Inception" tells a story developed by CoDz very own members of gifted individuals, all of different origins and backgrounds yet all share one thing in common; Element 115. Whether they are victims of crude human experiments with unexpected outcomes, or stumbled upon the mysterious element themselves, each of these individuals began to see supernatural phenomenons manifest within themselves. Some considered it a gift. Some a curse. Some kept these abilities reserved to themselves, Others strived to make the most of it in every way possible. Some used these abilites to aid those close to them. And some, desired only to crush those around them. Will you fight to make things right again? Or will you eliminate those that oppose you? The choice is yours.

 

Previous Inception Chapters:

 

Inception: Kasady Disclassifed

 

Inception Season 1

 

Inception Season 2: Separation

 

Inception Season 3: Genesis

 

Inception: Twen-Tia Five

[Undead]

Kasady Rhoads

Unknown Facility, New York Island

Year 2025

 

.....

 

"T-Tia?" 

 

The young doctor with exotic wavy hair cautiously entered the room seeing her uncanny friend looking back at her for the first time in what felt like forever, it was a miracle. A giant grin stretched across Tia's face as Kasady spoke in recognition. 

 

"Leave us."  Tia spoke eagerly.

 

The guards and her assistant nodded, filing out of the plain white cell, closing the steel door behind them. Tia immediately wrapped her arms around her; Kasady jumped upon her reaction, still feeling lost and confused. But it was good to see a friendly face again. Kasady slowly eased her tension, hugging Tia back.

 

"I'm so glad to see you're alright, you have no idea how worried I've been. I thought I lost you!" Tia spoke excitedly, taking a deep breath as she calmed herself;

 

"Uh, sorry... This all is probably really strange to you right now. How are you feeling?" 

 

Kasady held her head, feeling like she just risen from the dead in slumber;

 

"I'm... I'm fine. Just a little shaken up I guess..." Kasady began, rubbing the back of her neck as she scanned the room randomly.

 

"Wh-where exactly are we anyways?" 

 

Tia put on a smile to cover up her concern as she watched Kasady intensely, hoping she really was stable at this point.

 

"We're in one of the best medical centers here on an island in New York, we have been keeping a close eye on you ever since you- we, landed here..." Tia replied, really unsure what to say at this point;

 

"So, you're with these guys?" Kasady asked;

 

"Y-yes... I am. I knew I could help. But something must have happened to you when we jumped again... You were unconsious and-" 

 

Kasady looked at Tia completely puzzled, still with hazyness in her eye;

 

"Jumped?" she questioned;

 

"You... you mean you don't remember escaping that theater place?" Tia question hesitantly;

 

Kasady broke eye contact, looking at the floor, blinking as she thought hard;

 

"N-no... I... I don't..." 

 

"What can you remember, Kasady?" Tia questioned as she pulled out a small notepad.

 

(Entry by Undad)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[MyLittleHellhound]

Isis Kuang

Lincoln Medical Center, New York City

Year 2025

 

She hated hospitals.

 

They were always decorated with these bright fluorescent lights, intended to give the place a warm and clean feeling. Instead, they just hurt her eyes. The balance of light and shadow was off; and by a long shot. The false brightness touched everything and anything.The chemical smell filled her nose as she walked by dozens of rooms, all decorated with recolored, cheap paintings of flowers and fruits and other "happy" things. Doctors, students, and visitors all walked past her. She could sense it in all of them. They're lights and their shadows. Some people were nearly full of bright light, while others had a good balance. Some of the people she passed were deep in shadow, however. They were the ones with heaps of regrets, worries, and bad memories. They also had done many things wrong, without necessarily regretting it. These were the ones she usually watched closely. Never interfered with, but watched closely. 

 

She was now standing in front of a slightly ajar door. There was a tarnished brass plaque on the stainless steel. "Room 5115". She pushed it open and stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer lights. There were two beds in this room, separated by maybe two feet.. There was the barely audible beep of monitors and somewhere outside, a child laughed. 

 

And then the whisper.

 

"Isis..."

 

She walked over to the beds quietly and took two old, but calloused hands.

 

"Mom. Dad."

 

"I told you she'd visit us." her mother wheezed.

 

"Guess I owe you a dollar then." her father coughed.

 

They're sicker than I last remembered.

 

"How are you guys doing?" she asked.

 

"We're just...fine here," her mother said, "Though I'd rather be in Egypt."

 

"I know you would. You can't leave here though, at least not yet. The doctors-"

 

"The doctors get paid to say whatever they want, Isis. The gods have a plan for us, and I do not intend to resist it."

 

She opened her mouth to say something, but then there was a knock on the door. It was sharp and short, like the report of a machine gun. She turned around, staring at the doctor. He wasn't familiar, not at all. She was fairly certain she had never seen him before. And he, she noticed, was filled to the brim with shadow.  

 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you are the daughter correct? We must speak." he beckoned to her, "Just outside here, if that's alright?"

 

Isis followed him outside, where he shut the door to her parent's hospital room.

 

"I'm Doctor Vahlmer. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand. 

 

She shook it. It was the hand of a highly educated man.

 

"I do not wish to intrude on your time with your parents, but there is something I must tell you." he glanced at her and then flipped to a chart on his electronic tablet. 

 

Isis had known this was coming, from the moment her parents had suddenly "retired" from an archaeological dig in the Middle East.

 

"Their tumors are growing, despite everything we have done. It simply won't stop. Putting it that way..." he sighed, "there's not much we can do and I'm not sure they have a lot of time left."

 

Isis stayed calm on the outside, but inside, she seethed. The man was evil, she was sure of it. The shadows curled around him like moths to a lamp.

 

"I'm so sorry." he took her smooth, slender hand in his.

 

She wasn't listening to him though. As he held her hand, his sleeve slid back to reveal his wrist. 

 

There was a black tattoo of a bird etched on his skin. She knew it was a hieroglyphic. And it stood for evil.

 

She drew back her hand quickly, mentally bringing together the lights coming from the fluorescent bulbs. Dozens of motes gathered at her fingertips. invisible to all but her.

 

"Thank you doctor...keep trying to save them. Please. They mean a lot to me." Isis nodded to him, her hand twitching. She withdrew quickly and strode back the way she came, feeling the doctor's eyes bore into the back of her skull.

 

I know what you are, and what you can be.

[Rissole25]

Tia Rydia
The HASTE Facility, New York Island
Year 2025

 

Kasady Rhoads looked down at the bed, shuffling her feet. Tia could see in her eyes that she was trying, very hard to remember. As she was about to say something, the door opened.

"Ah, Ms Rhoads, so good to see you are doing well".

"Mr Garrison!", piped Tia, "What are you doing here?". Kasady looked at the man, sizing him up. He was at least in his 50's as evident by the grey comb over and thick mustache on his upper lip. He had crows feet on his eyes and some wrinkles, but his face was still fairly solid. The man wore a black suit, that seemed to be tailored to him perfectly. She looked to his eyes, and was surprised that they were devoid of colour. Just a steel grey colour. Kasady had never seen anyone with grey eyes before.

"Just here to check up on the patient Dr. Rydia", Garrison replied, looking at Tia. "How is she?"

"Her vitals and readings are stabilized now, they appear very normal now. She does have memory loss though", Tia sadly said.

"Shame...", Garrison said, looking down at the floor. "Well Ms. Rhoads, we're here to help. We have some of the best medical and rehabilitation facilities, as well as some of the brightest doctors", he looked at Tia before turning back to Kasady. "Once you're feeling up to it, feel free to explore the facility. And just ask for help if you need it".

Kasady stared at the man and said nothing. She managed a weak smile.

"Well I best be on my way. Dr. Rydia, you're scheduled to assist Dr. Vahlmer at the Lincoln Medical Center"

"Of course sir", she said. He walked out the door, leaving the two women. She turned to Kasady. "That was Arthur Garrison, CEO of HASTE".

"Haste?", replied Kasady.

"It's a privately owned business. I'm not exactly sure what it stands for...or what they do", said Tia discontented. "But I've been helping the medical staff here. I wanted to make sure you were safe". She smiled and hugged her friend. "I'm so glad you're awake".

"Heh, me too", said Kasady, trying to chuckle about it.

"I have to go, but I promise I will be back soon", explained Tia. "Please...try to remember. I'll explain as best as I can when I return". She smiled, before she walked out, leaving Kasady alone in the room.

[Faust]

Six miles outside of Arkham, Massachusetts

1927

 

Not far beyond the crumbling relics of New England’s gables stood a single, isolated manor. While the decaying husk of what was once some colonist’s treasured fortress had slowly given way to the woods that surrounded it, the household seemed to retain a certain degree of dignity and grace. In that moment it was both a bygone of a past age and a monolith to the present. For that bastion was just as solitary and aging as Massachusetts itself, fleeting before the coming of a new generation eager to overtake the old. The forest that encircled it was not lush, green woodland but a grey, thorny bramble that seemed to snake its way over the surrounding hillsides. Wooden tendrils sporting endless columns of spines crept their way over the iron gates of the grounds and pushed on ever further into the property before at last reaching their way to the edifice were they were left to claw rabidly up the walls, endeavoring to completely overtake what arrogant settlers had sought to make their own. There before the monument of timeless strife he stood, taking care to adjust his coat as he eyed the door for anything resembling a latch.

 

“Damn damn damn!” he huffed several times as he gently plucked at a chestnut shell that had snagged itself on his wool pea coat, “It isn’t enough that the man is a recluse! And here I was assuming that a hermit would be even marginally interested in tending to his lawn.”  

 

The minor breach in composure only distracted him for a instant or two before he was able to recollect his thoughts and directive. Exhaling hastily he struck a commanding stance, hurled his chest into the air, and pounded persistently at the enormous oak doors. There was a minor echo in the woods around him, and then silence. The Man at the Door glanced around nervously, dearly wishing that the home’s occupant might greet him soon. The light was quickly fading and he had no intention of remaining there through a long autumn’s night. He ran his fingers through his matted, dark hair and over his sunken eyes before checking his pocket watch impatiently. There were several more moments of stillness, then several heavy thumps on the opposite side of the door. They grew closer and closer as the host approached, each footstep resonating more and more with the Man at the Door.

 

“Well now!” he spoke aloud to no one in particular, “It seems the man is still sociable after all!”

 

 Three tumbles and clangs followed as the door unlatched. The Man at the Door could barely contain his smile as the host stepped forwards to great him.

 

“Well?” Benny roared in a cockney grumble that could only be described as ‘wet’, “The hell are you ‘ere for ‘en? Y’ just gonna fakin’ stand there grinning like the God damn Cheshire cat or you got somethin’t say?”

 

The Man couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin, and the more he looked his smile grew wider and wider. He laughed (just twice) as he eyed Benny from head to toe before at last making eye contact.

 

“You are Mister Benny Barefield, correct?”

 

“Who wants to know?” Benny retorted, withdrawing slightly back into his home, “Blokes come ‘round here every now and again asking for Mister Barefield all the time. Makes no difference to me if they leave satisfied or not.”

 

The Man at the Door felt his smile grow ever wider, threatening to split his face asunder if he didn’t find some way to contain his thrill as he stood before his objective. He was far grander than he had anticipated, easily towering above six feet high and filling the entirety of the threshold. Though adorned in a dapper suit and tucked beneath a well fit bowler hat, there was no mistaking the hideous abomination that stood before him. The photos in his dossier were one thing, but there was nothing on hell or earth that could prepare a man to stand face to face with Barefield himself. His face, rounded and hideously contorted, was all that was needed to tell that if he ever was a man those days had long since passed. While still damnably human in nature, it resembled more a coelacanth or some other debased sea creature of the Triassic era.  Barefield slowly lowered himself until the two were at eye level, revealing an iris pattern that must have surely predated any Paleolithic creature. As he hunched over he lowered himself onto his forearms into a gargoyle-like stance that appeared oddly more comfortable to him than simply standing on two legs. His jaw—Oh God, his jaw. Try as he might to force his jaw as far back as he could, it still sat forward just enough to display seemingly endless teeth that protruded from his lips.

 

It was the most beautiful thing the Man at the Door had ever seen.

 

“So is this it then… Is this why you’ve come ‘ere?”

 

Benny leaned in closer, his temper and patience wearing thin. The Man before him remained silent.

 

“Is this all you fucking wanted? You’ve come to gawk at The Blowfish, ‘ave you? Those damn yanks over in their towns and villages thinking they are so beautiful and superior to anyone who doesn’t have their good fortune… To peg the man beset by a minor skin condition as ‘The Blowfish’ and condemn him to a life of shame and seclusion! I’d kill every last one of them if given good reason, and that’s how most find their way to me! To give me good reason!”

The Man at the Door continued to smile.

 

“Yeaaaaah, that’s right mate. That’s what I do, savvy? You think a guy what looks like me can just march into town and get a normal job to pay for a home like this. No. No no no no no no no… Lot’sa blokes out there lookin’ for an ex-Pinkerton to do their dirty work. But you ain’t come for that, ‘ave ya? ‘Ave yeah? Because with you just sitting there smiling at me, I’m thinking I might not even need much of a reason to go grab my Webley and pop a cap in your pathetic guts!”

 

Benny eyed The Man as well, his throat resonating a deep oscillating tone that seemed eerily similar to…

 

A growl? No. Maybe a hiss? Yes, a hiss… But if a hiss were underwater. Or would that just be the sound a whale makes? Certainly not a dolphin by any means!

 

The Man fancied all these thoughts for a brief while before blinking the wonder from his eyes and nodding politely.

 

“Mister Benny,” The Man at the Door finally spoke with a polite charm, “Blowfish Benny that is... I am with Research Group 935. My organization would like very much— So very, very much… To hire your services for a… very special assignment! We bring currency in good faith!”

 

The Man at the Door lifted a deer skin suitcase and unbuckled its straps to unveil endless stacks of deutschmarks all bound together in tight paper seals.

“Oh wonderful!” Benny spat fantastically, “Deutschmarks! I fancy I could use those should I need something to wipe my ass with or plaster my walls! I might not get out lad, but I know enough to know that those scraps ain’t worth a damn!”

 

The Man at the Door adjusted his stance, slightly offended as he withdrew his satchel.

 

“Mister Barefield, I can assure you that the reward my associates offer for completion of this contract is something far greater than any monetary value. I merely ask that I use this to buy your time, sort of speak. That you might invite me in so we can discuss the whos, wheres, whats, and whens. But… Preferably not the hows. I know your kind tend to shy away from those particulars anyway! Part of the business as I understand it, no? I truly do admire that work ethic by the way!”

 

Several awkward seconds passed as Benny peeled back his horrible lips to convey the closest thing to a smile he could. He extended a scaled grey claw forward, revealing a set of slimy, wet fingers that dangled in the air between them. The Man at the Door lunged forward and shook it without any hesitation, his smile growing even wider in awe of the texture of Benny’s skin. Perfectly jubilant to make each other’s’ acquaintance, the two merrily disappeared into the shadows of the mansion. Even after the door slammed shut one might have even been able to hear the beginning of a delightful conversation about which kind of tea should be placed on the kettle for their meeting that evening. 

[perfectlemonade]

Christian Cobden

3317 Mistletoe Lane. DeWitt, Michigan. 27408.

Year 2025

 

Of all the fates that I have replayed over and over and over in the prison that is my head, between when this first began with David shooting me all those years ago to now, as a bloody moaning sunrise ascends into the cool Michigan morning, death by zombification was not even considered. I always figured it would be complications, like an infection, or choking on my own vomit, or maybe eventually my body would just quit like I've been hoping it would for a long ass time, but a zombie bite from my own mother? Come on.

I'll take it though.

I'm in my wheelchair right now, and Mom is dead on the floor with a broken vodka bottle in her skull which is something I did, and I'm sad about it but I'm actually not that torn up, because she's dead and now I am too once this zombie virus officially takes my life in a couple minutes and I'm looking out my bedroom window, to the apocalypse below. It's funny how fast things can go downhill. There have been few gunshots—thanks, of course, to the Christian Cobden Firearm Buyback Bill of 2018—but there have been plenty of explosions and screams and basically everything you'd expect from a zombie outbreak in a formerly-quiet, middle-class neighborhood. Small packs of undead prowl Mistletoe Lane while others still emerge from the forest, but they are all freshly killed, probably since I've been asleep, with all their guts hanging out of their disemboweled stomach cavities and their bones broken and mangled and poking through their bloody skin.
 
I reach almost instinctively from my bottle of Smirnoff, but I remember that it's in my mom's skull. I sigh, but luckily I have a backup supply of some really good shit under my bed, my favorite shit, Grey Goose, the first alcohol I ever had, so I roll over, careful to avoid the corpse in my bedroom, and reach beneath my bed and yank off the cap, downing a solid three gulps before having to pull away. I make my way back to the window, where Mr. Yancey is running for his life with a dozen zombies in hot pursuit. Mr. Curtis Yancey is the neighborhood pedophile, as in every couple years he has to go from door to door with a sheet acknowledging that he's a registered sex offender that everyone in the neighborhood has to sign. And Mr. Yancey is not just some "oops-I-had-sex-with-a-fifteen-year-old-once" sex offender, no, I've seen his page. In the 90s he was busted with child porn. I used to think he was capable of changing because I used to think all people were capable of changing, but ten years of being paralyzed has taught me better. I like to think I'm much more realistic than I was then.

 

So maybe zombies actually aren't that bad of a thing. I mean pedophiles and Christian Cobden are made out of the same stuff and at least now the world, or at least Mistletoe Lane, will be rid of a pedophile.

 

The booze hits me then, head spinning, and I wonder how Madeline and Elijah are doing. I hope they're okay. Maybe these zombies haven't hit their apartment yet on the other side of DeWitt, but I can only dream. They're probably dead like I'm about to me. I love them both. I love them more than I love anyone or anything else.

 

I swig down some more vodka. I can feel the virus, or whatever it is, now, and Mr. Yancey trips and the zombies swarm him. I chuckle. Serves you right, Curt. Fuckin' Curt.

 

It's in my chest now. The process, I mean. It doesn't hurt, at least it doesn't hurt when I'm drunk, so I guess that's good. The poison, the disease, I feel it in my heart, I feel it hugging me, tighter, and my pulse is slowing down, and I'm tired, and this is actually not unpleasant. It's not pleasant, like being zombified isn't something I'd suggest experimenting with, but there are certainly worse ways to go out.

 

I'm losing control now, and it's everywhere, I feel it, I feel it everywhere, it's all over me. The darkness tugs at the corners of my eyes, and then it's all black. Everything. And that should be the end of my pathetic life of bullet-holes and catheters and alcoholism. But something funny happens.

 

It's not the end.

 

In one single instant I snap out of the dark. The lights are turned on, so to speak, and I can see. It's bright now, probably due to the sun that's shining directly into my freaking face. As what anyone else would do to get away from blinding light, I move out of the sunlight. But I don't roll out of the luminescence on my wheelchair. Instead I do something else

 

I stand up.

 

Yes. I stand. And get this: I haven't stood up in over a decade. For real. Over a decade. So needless to say I'm a bit overjoyed feel my feet supporting me for the first time in a long, long time.

 

And then it all comes back to me. I'm dead. I'm a zombie. But zombies, they aren't in control of themselves, right? But I look down. My thigh is missing a large chunk of flesh—a chunk of flesh that is now in my mother's stomach—but it's still supporting me, and even better, I don't feel any pain and I'm not even bleeding. And yes, there is a silence in my chest, surely from my heart not beating either. I shake out my arms, my legs, everything. Yep. Yep. Holy shit yes. I'm doing jumping jacks now. Yes. YES. This is happening.

 

I'm a zombie.

 

And I'm in control.

 

I'm not thirsty or hungry for blood or flesh, and hell I'm not even drunk anymore. This is real. This is it. This is it. This is how I get out of my prison that is my cranial cavity. With zombies. Wow. I'm done. I'm so done.

 

I'm still doing jumping jacks because why not, and I'm not even tired. So I guess zombies don't get tired. Which is great. And I'm laughing now, because this is all crazy, this is so weird, I'm laughing and I'm crying, I'm crying too, I'm crying, this is so, so crazy. I can't believe that this happening. I'm a zombie. I'm a fucking zombie. And what about Mom—

 

Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit. I whip around, and I look at my mother, facedown in her own blood, and now that euphoria is gone. I look at her. I've seen it before—I've seen this before. I've lived it before. I've lived the gore, the blood, the death, and I've seen it all and worse, even worse than this. I saw a body so mangled by bullets that you couldn't even tell where the kid's face began.

 

But this. This is my mother.

 

My stomach growls then. Yes, it growls. I glance to my stomach, bloody shirt, and back to my mother, and I want to... to take a bite out of her. I'm not hungry, not really, but I kind of want to eat her flesh. I just want to. And then I realize just how fucked up that is, and suddenly I don't want flesh anymore. I am a zombie. And this all just hits me. She's dead. She's dead and I'm still here I guess and there's nothing you can really do about it.

 

I love her. And I killed her. I was the one who dug a busted whiskey bottle through her eye.</p>

 

I look back outside, and I really want to cry but nothing's happening, and the zombies are still there, perhaps a little thicker than before, and there is no sign of old Mr. Yancey save for a small puddle of blood, and I think of Madeline and Elijah. They're out there. Dead or alive, they're out there, and I'm good, hell I'm much better than I was, even before the shooting. I have to know.

 

I have to know.

 

Mom deserves better than this, though. She deserves better than decomposition via flies and maggots.

 

So I go out to the garage, grab the jug of kerosene, empty it out all over the house, and with a trail of the liquid tailing behind me and a box of matches in my hand, I cautiously step outside. The zombies, they all see me, glance up, look at me, but they pay no attention to me. I'm one of them. I'm invisible. Just like I've always been.

 

I pour out the rest of the kerosene and hold the match to the striker. Fuck. She's going to burn. And so is my entire house. Everything.

 

And here I am. I'm... well, shit, look. I'm better. But—

 

No, Christian, shut up. This is over. You have no time to waste. Madeline and Elijah aren't getting any safer as you sit here and contemplate your feelings.

 

So I light the match, toss it on the fuel, and begin running towards Madeline and Elijah's apartment as my mother and my house are consumed in flames.

[Undead]

Continued...

 

The room was quiet once again as Tia left the room; the sound of fluorescent lights humming with energy filled the silent room. Kasady sat slouched on the edge of her bed, trying to collect her thoughts on everything. Nothing made sense, and she still had no idea where or even when she was. She let out a heavy sigh, filled with uncertainty and exhaustion as she closed her eyes, her head hung low as she ran her fingers through her hair. She paused, her hands still holding the back of her head as she noticed the plain white baggy gown she was wearing and her worn military clothing folded and draped on the dresser next to her.

 

"Ugh..." She moaned, dropping her hands beside her. 

 

Kasady stood, taking a quick glance around the room as she began to remove the gown. She paused again, standing bare as her eyes caught a glimpse of her hand. Her right palm was an odd dark purple color, almost as if it here freshly bruised with dark veins streaming around it. She stared in shock as she slowly examined her entire hand, back to front. A sharp pain surged through Kasady's head as voices, images - one after the other - rapidly flashed before her;

 

"Take this Kasady, quickly!  And you mustn't open it no matter what!"

 

"You'll find the answers you're looking for Kasady, don't worry."

 

"James?! JAMES!"

 

"hahahahaha!"

 

Kasady clenched her head, staggering into the dresser. A piece of paper swiftly swooped up from the pile of clothing, landing in front of her; Kasady stood dazed, then the pain, the voices, were gone. She immediately went for the paper;

 

"Kasady,

 

I know this all seems strange right now but I had no where else to go, bringing you to this place seemed like the right thing to do. I hope I was right. I don't think I can do this on my own. The other doctors say you have a concussion. Some even declared you brain dead. I've done what I can in secret without revealing my powers to these guys. I don't trust these facility and with good reason. You and I both know what they can be like to people like us. The other doctors were also going to dispose of your old clothes, but knowing you, you're probably not one for just hanging around with revealing hospital gowns all day. So I requested to hold on to them for you. They're pretty beat up though, remind me to take you shopping for some new clothes whenever we're not being attacked by Nazi's... Dead or alive! 

 

Anyways, I hope you're feeling better. I left something in your pocket. I hope it will helps more than it hurts. I worry about you.

 

Take care, I'll see you soon.

 

Tia"

 

Kasady quickly put her old tank top and military pants back on, shifting through her pockets, she felt a chain and pulled it out; it was a heart-shaped locket.

[Lizizadolphin]

Sasha

New York

Year 2025

 

Everything in Sasha's world seemed to be crashing down.  Moments before, she watch as her brother, Bolek, dashed around their small home, gathering what seemed to be essential items if you were going... camping?  She didn't know.  She had never been camping before, only saw her brother pack for trips and tell amazing stories when he returned.  Her mother was standing by the window, every now and then peering out of the curtains.

 

Sasha now sat behind a trap door at the back of their pantry.  She thought of how her mama had said it was too late, how she forced Sasha to hide here.  She remembered the look on her face, the tears in her eyes as she kissed her forehead and told her she loved her very much.  No one had told her anything, except that she needed to stay quiet and by no means leave the pantry.  With no idea of what was going on, Sasha was startled by the sudden, heavy knocking on their front door.  She heard Bolek slowly unlock the door and open it, then the sound of footsteps flood into the living space.

 

There were muffled voices talking back and forth.  Sasha tried to distinguishing what the voices were saying, and if they were voices she knew.

 

"I'm sorry, my daughter is not here."  That was mama.  Her voice was calm now, as it always was.  "She hasn't been here in a very long while."

 

"Then would you mind if we looked around?"  This was a voice unfamiliar to Sasha.  It sounded like a woman's voice, stern yet sweet.  It didn't sound like the voice of someone mama would need to hide her from.

 

More muffled chatter filtered through the walls, then there was the sound of things being moved around.  Heavy footsteps rattled the stairs above her head.  She desperately wanted to know what was going on, what these mysterious people were looking for.

 

The air around her began to glow and fizzle.  Her eyes faded from bright turquoise to an almost white color.  Sasha found a soul, bound temporarily to earth, and fabricated it in another room.  She manipulated it, forcing it to move itself at her will.  Now she could see everything that was happening.  The soul crept slowly around the living space, observing everything that was happening.  There were men with weapons walking throughout the house, checking every nook and cranny.  A woman in a neat suit stood in the middle of the room near mama.  

 

Suddenly, one of the armed men pointed where the soul was and yelled.  Everyone in the room turned to look, but merely saw was seemed like a cloud of dust dissipating.  The cloud of dust swirled at the floor, then made its way towards the pantry, slipping through a crack at the bottom of the wall.

 

Sasha felt as if everyone's eyes were still focused on the soul, on her.  She heard mama and her brother protest and yell, as well as someone walking into the pantry.  The hidden door began to open, flooding the small space with light.   The neatly dressed woman stood in the pantry, smiling down at Sasha.  

 

"Please stand up and come with me."

 

Slowly, she stood up and walked toward the woman.  Looking past her, Sasha could see Bolek holding their mother, stroking her head and whispering to her.  She didn't understand why mama would be so sad, no one had died or fallen deathly ill.  There was no reason for her to be crying like she was.

 

The woman strode over to the front door, reaching her hand out to Sasha, signaling for her to follow.  Mama broke free of Bolek's grasp and nodded to him.  He jumped up and ran to a nearby table, grabbing something off of it.

 

"Wait!"  Everyone in the house stopped and glared at him.  "Can my sister bring something with her?  A momento to remind her of her family?"

 

The men looked to the woman, who shook her head in approval.  Bolek held something out towards Sasha, urging her to take it.  Upon looking at it, she saw it was a photo in a simple wooden frame.  It was a picture she had never seen before, with three unfamiliar faces staring back at her.

 

"The older couple are our grandparents, and the young boy is papa.  Mama planned to give this to you eventually, but now is the only time we can give it to you."

 

Sasha threw her arms out and hugged her brother tightly, not wanting to let go of him.  He was her closest friend, as well as her only sibling.  She looked up to him for help, and now even he couldn't explain what was happening to her.

 

One of the armed men grabbed her arm and pulled her away from her brother and out the door.  He led Sasha to the back of a small truck and helped her up.  She saw another man motion to the seat next to him.  Without hesitating she plopped down in the seat.  The woman in the suit stepped up into the truck and sat in a seat on the other side.  She yelled to the driver, and the truck began moving.

 

"Everything is fine, dear."  The woman's voice was soothing.  She pulled a thin phone from her pocket and began gliding her finger over the screen hastily.  "We'll be arriving at the HASTE Facility shortly."

 

Sasha had no idea of what the HASTE Facility was, or what was even going on.  She stared down at the picture her brother had given her, clasped tightly in her hands.  All she knew was that she had never left the world that existed inside her home, a world she had grown tired of.

 

The woman leaned forward a bit, smiling as she observed Sasha.

 

"What you did back there was... pretty interesting.  Just how did you get those powers of yours?"

 

Glancing up for a moment, Sasha blinked silently then the corners of her lips turned up slightly.

 

The woman leaned back in her seat again, returning her attention to her phone.

 

Sasha's eyes stayed glued to the photograph for the rest of the ride.  She ignored the imagery of the city that she had always begged mama to see, the city she longed to go to.  She didn't know how long the ride was, or how long it would be.  Right now she only wanted to know why she was never given this picture before, or why she was never told more about her papa and grandparents.

 

Finally, the truck came to a halt.  The door at the back of the truck was being unlocked from the outside.  Sasha trembled, clutching the picture close to her as she was lifted by one of the armed guards at her side.  The door swung open, revealing a large window.  Beyond the window, several men and women in strange white coats walked around, carrying papers and strange tools.  Some had stopped and were staring through the glass, watching what was happening.  The woman was helped down from the truck, then glanced back at Sasha and smiled.

 

"Welcome to your new home."

[MegaAfroMan]

Marshall Meier

Citadel Security Agency, New York

Year 2025

 

 

Deep breath, and sell, sell, sell.

It was a day like any other day, for everyone except Marshall Meier. Poor Marshall Meier was entering the Citadel Security Agency, his only remaining potential buyer for his designs. Life without the comfort of family money and college scholarships and government grants was a terrible hassle. 

 

"Hello! Welcome to Citadel Security Agency, New York's finest private security force! How may I help you today?" chimed a sharply dressed secretary.

 

You could tell through the way her eyes dilated that she disliked working with strangers, yet the skillfully retained tone gave a pretty safe sense that she makes a lot of money for faking it, and does not want to risk that paycheck. 

"Yes hello, I have an appointment to speak with Mr. McLaughlin" Marshall replied, unintentionally mimicking the bouncy tone the secretary used.

 

That certainly caught her attention, but not in the best of ways.

"Yes, I see. He is available but not for long. I'll have someone escort you to his office," the secretary pushed a button on the table and a large fellow wearing dark shades stepped over. 

 

"Please see that this gentleman makes it to and from Mr. McLaughlin's office safely," the large fellow gave the slightest hint of a nod, and began walking towards an elevator.

 

If you looked closely enough, you could see that the very edges of his shades were actually mirrored so he could still keep watching someone from ridiculous angles.

"Excellent." Marshall said to no one in particular as he followed the large fellow into the elevator.

 

It was just too silent. No elevator music.

 

"Do you guys escort all your visitors, or..." the large fellow honestly hasn't moved an inch since he pushed the button on the elevator.

 

The statuesque nature of the large fellow was quite remarkable, and intimidating. It's easy to see how these guys became so popular as a place known for quality security guards. 

 

"And here I'm planning to arm this man and his identical brethren with a weapon which will make a tazer seem like an ineffective toy."

 

The elevator reached its destination, and opened without making any sounds. No dings, no whooshing doors, or the hum of gears or motors. The large fellow continued on his journey, seemingly oblivious to the extreme lack of sounds that bothered Marshall so greatly. 

At the end of the hallway stood the large fellow, he opened a door and stood outside, waiting for Marshall to enter. Again, no noise, barely any movement. Marshall entered the room and glanced behind him. Sure enough the door was closed, without any sounds. 

"Hello Mr. Meier! I'm glad to finally meet you!" beamed a confident voice. 

This of course startled the preoccupied Mr. Meier who jumped and spun around to see a man sitting at the previously empty table. At least he made some noise.

"Yes hello, very fine operation you're running here. Very- secure," stammered Marshall.

 

He clumsily pulled out the chair opposite the man and sat down.

"We try our best," smirked the man.

 

His nameplate on the table confirmed that this was Mr. McLaughlin, or someone who really wanted to seem like him. "So I understand you have a 'revolutionary' design for a new pacification device?"

"Pacification device. Alright, whatever gets you to sleep at night."

 

Marshall raised up a briefcase and plopped it on the table with almost as much grace as he had shown thus far. 

"Yes I do. These designs are a complete blueprint for what I affectionately refer to as 'a Phaser'," 

The man blinked. He didn't seem all that impressed yet.

"Y'know, like from Star Trek... Anyways, it is basically a laser pointer, but roughly anywhere from ten-thousand to three-hundred and fifty-thousand times stronger, depending on what settings you use."

The man blinked again. He still didn't seem all that impressed.

"On its lowest setting, it would super heat skin through direct exposure or through light cloth and feel roughly like a first degree burn, if need be it can be increased to cause actual burn damage, or on maximum settings it could essentially burn a hole two inches deep into someone's chest with one 'shot', of course it can be set for a semi-automatic style with short millisecond bursts, or it can be set to generate a continuous beam."

The man blinked once more. He shifted his weight slightly, but no one other than McLaughlin himself could have successfully assigned any meaning to that action.


"Well- uh- I am willing to sell the design and all the rights, and if need be, my own time to oversee the development of the first batch to ensure success. Do you have any comments, offers- anything at all really would be nice to hear," Marshall concluded. He needed this to sell. He had no money. His savings were practically gone, and these schematics were pretty much the only thing of value he had left.

The man took a breath, and smiled a sort of smile which makes you know you won't like what comes next, yet somehow it forces you to smile along.

"Well Mr. Marshall, I'm afraid we aren't exactly looking for such a radical investment at this time. You see, in order to ensure our customers that we are the best service; we can't risk pioneering such unknown methods of pacification. I mean there are practically no laws concerning the use of lasers in such a fashion as you are suggesting. It's just a bomb full of lawyers waiting to go off,"

 

Mr. McLaughlin continued on, somehow managing to retain his mind-controlling smile;

 

"I do appreciate your time, and I am very intrigued by your idea. I would recommend perhaps trying to pitch it to The Pentagon, or maybe the NYPD. If your 'Phaser' gets approved through them and put into use, I would gladly welcome you back if you haven't already sold your rights by that point. Do take care."

 

And with that, it was over. Marshall had already tried The Pentagon. In fact it was one of his first stops when he decided to quit school to pursue a life of travel and invention, to live free of the constraints of a research lab. They turned him down and assured him that his designs just weren't worth funding. NYPD gave him a similar response. As did a few weapons contractors, and a well known website for self-defense tools.

"Thank you for your time Mr. McLaughlin," with that Marshall closed up his briefcase, and walked towards the suddenly open door and proceeded down the hallway.

 

Of course the large fellow from earlier was following him to the elevator, and of course he wasn't making any sounds. The elevator made its trip down to the lobby without any noticeable sounds, and when Marshall stepped out of the elevator and looked back the large fellow was gone. He was quite swift. 

"If I can take any solace out of my failure, it is in knowing that that fellow and others like him will not be able to burn through my chest with as much silence as they seem to be able to move with."

Marshall stepped on to the street and started walking towards the bus stop. He needed to go collapse. The motel room he was staying at was paid up until the end of the week anyways. Then the adventure ends and the begging to resume his old life begins. 

"A few blocks down and across the street is all that remains of my grand adventure. This is such bullshit. Am I really destined to sit behind desks and work on papers and lab reports for the rest of my life? I'm a genius, isn't that supposed to be enough? The good old American dream. Bullshit. I can't believe I thought I had a chance, I shou-"

Something wasn't quite right with this scene. Marshall Meier was crossing the road whilst ranting within his head about the unfairness of life, and a car was approaching in a slow, but still rather forceful manner. The driver happened to be reaching for his cell phone, which had fallen onto the ground of the passenger side, and had no clear opportunity to see Marshall crossing the road.

At the last instant Marshall snapped out of his little world and noticed the large amount of metal and other assorted materials closing in on his position and lunged for the curb. Of course, cars are pretty fast. A thud sounded out as Marshall fell onto the hood of the car and rolled off onto the side of the street. 

"Oh my god! Sir, are you okay? I'm so sorry-" the driver of the vehicle had pulled over and rushed to try to soothe his conscience over what had just happened.
Marshall was quickly losing consciousness at this point and couldn't respond with the "I'm fine, thanks!" that the driver so desperately hoped for.

Luckily for Marshall the driver was really committed to clearing his conscience and decided to call an ambulance. It arrived, picked up the unconscious Mr. Meier, and drove off. The side of the ambulance indicating its probable destination: Lincoln Medical Center.

Edited July 31, 2014 by MegaAfroMan

[MyLittleHellhound]

Isis Kuang

Lincoln Medical Center

Year 2025

 

The "Wow" macaroni and cheese wasn't so wow. Isis idly picked at it with a plastic fork, watching the fork's tips drag through the congealed cheese. She was sitting in the corner of the hospital's bustling cafeteria, watching people go by. The sun was shining brightly still, and her table was brightly lit. Her bronzed skin drank it in. Around her, hospital staff and patients went about their days. 

 

"Ugh."

 

Isis got up from the table and tossed the container of food into the garbage on her way out. She wasn't really hungry to begin with. As Isis walked past the crowds of people, she saw in each of them the shadows and the lights. Many here had less of a shadow. After all, it was a hospital. She stepped to one side as a group of laughing high-schoolers, probably on a field trip, charged past her. Then she saw the doctor again. Isis froze in her tracks, everything and everyone around her forgotten.

 

 

Dr. Vahlmer was greeting a slender girl with wavy blue hair. Isis guessed she was about the same age as herself. But it wasn't her pink dress that had Isis stunned. The newcomer was positively radiating with light, so bright that Isis's head ached. It wasn't like normal, however. The light was interrupted constantly by a pulsing of light red, almost like a heartbeat. It stretched out to Isis, and when she gathered it into her hand it turned as red as blood. She gathered a few motes of light from the shining sun, and a few shadows from the corner of the storeroom just down the hallway. She combined them and the three materials met with the sound of thunder.

 

Isis felt the power surge through her, filling her mind with images of gods and the dead that rose to walk the earth. She saw Dr. Vahlmer, the blue haired girl, and many other faces that she didn't know. Giant pieces of glowing rocks, submerged in murky water or sitting in a tomb of smashed glass, flashed past her at the speed of light. She stumbled against the wall, touching her slender hand to the white plaster. The images, repeating themselves in an endless cycle, overlayed the real world. Through the flashing colours she saw Dr. Vahlmer turn and walk with Tia deeper into the hospital. When it finally ended, Isis was shivering. People walked by, unaware of her malefic visions.

 

Isis recovered herself and tucked her long, silky hair behind her ears.

 

She was going to follow that girl.

[Rissole25]

Tia Rydia
Lincoln Medical Center
Year 2025

 

"I'll be honest Ms. Rydia", said Dr. Vahlmer as they walked, "I'm only doing this because Garrison wants it".

"Oh...", said Tia, a little taken back.

"I'd rather be back at HASTE than here", he muttered. "The medical ward there is top notch compared to here. I can hardly do anything here. But orders are orders", he sighed.

Tia said nothing.

"You may be Garrisons new pet, but don't expect a free ride with all of us. You have the title of doctor, but you still have so much to learn".

"I...I want to learn", Tia said quietly.

They continued walking down the ward, turning a corner. The hospital was busy, waiting rooms were full to the rim. Doctors and nurses all rushed pass, on the way to their next patients. As Tia walked passed the many rooms, she could see patients all in bed. She wondered what the problems were with these people, and whether she could heal them?

"Wait here", said Vahlmer. "I'll need to get you a white jacket". He looked her pink dress up and down, before walking off.

Tia sighed and leaned her back against the wall. She had only encountered John Vahlmer a few times at HASTE, and of those times she noted he was a driven man. He was the one who helped Tia and Kasady when they first got there. He was nice at first, but after that he had always seemed annoyed and pissed off. Tia was not sure why though. Could he be jealous of her?

What is that mans problem. I want don't want to usurp him or anything, I just want to help people. He needs to-..........why is that woman staring at me?

Tia noticed a small dark haired girl peeking at her from around the corner. Her skin was tanned, almost bronze like. The girl was beautiful Tia thought, but she wondered why she was watching her.

Tia gave a small wave and smile, and started to approach her.

"Dr. Rydia!", yelled Vahlmer, jogging up to her as she turned around, "Put this on quickly, we have an E814", handing her a medical coat.

"E814...", said Tia as she put the coat on, trying to remember what the code was. "Motor vehicle collision with pedestrian!", her eyes widened as Vahlmer nodded in confirmation. "Follow me"

She had to admit, he was a great doctor and did care for his patients, even if he didn't care for Tia. She followed him, and turned her head to look for the girl. She was gone.

[MegaAfroMan]

Marshall Meier

Lincoln Medical Center, New York

Year 2025

This certainly was a change from the silent Security Agency. Noise filled the air in Lincoln Medical Center as Marshall was rushed in through the ambulance access doors.

"What do we have here?" rushed a voice.

"E814, life signs seem stable but he hasn't regained consciousness yet. Probably took a nasty blow to the head," responded some other voice.

"How long ago was the incident?"

"Over 11 minutes ago."

"That's not good. We need to-" the voice cut off abruptly.

"Where- briefcase... need sell, sell, sell..." Marshall slurred.

Life can pretty pretty tough to deal with sometimes. Especially after you failed your final attempt at following your dreams. Getting hit by a car and then the ground probably wasn't helping much either.

"Mr. Meier, do you know where you are?" asked the rushed voice.

"I- briefcase. Where?" he retorted in the most eloquent way he could manage.

"Mr. Meier, you were hit by a car in a low speed collision while crossing the road. Do you understand me?" the rushed voice appeared to be coming from this blur of assorted colors. It wasn't very pretty.

"I need my briefcase. My briefcase. Where is it? I have a- a thing. To go to," Marshall insisted.

"Mr. Meier we didn't bring any briefcases back with you, we can deal with that in a minute. I need to know that you can understand me, we think you might have suffered a severe concussion," the rushed sounding blur urged.

"I- yes. Car. Yes. Okay. I'm okay. I need to go. Go look for the- the thing," Marshall had no desire to inconvenience these people, but he really missed his briefcase. They had been through a lot together.

"We'll help you find it, if you help us," said a softer voice. This blur was very colorful. Pinks, whites and blues.

"Okay, I- yes. What do you need?" he stuttered. The colorful blur seemed nice. She was going to help him get his briefcase.

Also he finally started actually feeling like he had been hit by a car. It's remarkable how pain can stifle the desire to get up and run across town.

"We need you to tell us your full name, and what you were doing just before the accident," the rushed blur cut in.

The blurs were gradually coming more into focus, as Marshall tried hard to collect his thoughts. Head trauma was a new experience for him, so of course it took some time.

"I- my name. Marshall. Marshall Meier. I was in a quiet building. Trying to sell some ideas. I'm smart you know. Then I was crossing the road. The bus stop. I was going there. Then- I don't know." he strained.

"That's good. You don't seem to have any long term memory damage. We're going to have to get you into a head CT to assess exactly what the damage is. Then we'll probably keep you in radiology to determine how badly the rest of you is damaged," the rushed voice rattled on.

Radiology was too big of a word for Marshall to get his mind around in this state. He was too busy trying to figure out what his own thoughts were to bother with translating this man's cryptic language. However in order to speed up the process he managed to force a slow nod.

He was in a hospital. That makes a lot of sense. He could begin to see actual imagery, rather than blurs and blobs. He saw standing a distance away a rather well composed man talking with a very- interesting lady. The colorful blur. He could see that she had a coat on over her dress, but it still struck him as odd.

"They must be my doctors. Do doctors usually wear pink...?" Marshall pondered that thought for as long as he could. Which was about four seconds. Things were still a little fuzzy.

Edited August 1, 2014 by MegaAfroMan

[Undead]

Walter Emmerich

HASTE Facility (Restricted Area), New York 

Year 2025

 

3 weeks earlier...

 

The room was dark, very dark. the only light in the room cast a dim beam from the celing in the center of the room and illuminated little else than himself and the floor around him. This was familiar to him, however he was usually doing the interrogating, not the other way around. A rapid beeping suddenly echoed, the red light near the steel door turned green and the door slid open. Walter smirked devilishly. 

 

"Forgive the intrusion" A silohouette figure began as he walked in the room;

 

"But we have some new tech we'd like to test on freaks like you and you're our lucky candidate." 

 

The man spoke with confident arrogance as he nodded. Several armed figures appeared from behind him, approaching the restrained Nazi madman.

 

"I think you'll find these new restraints quite comfortable." 

 

The armed men quickly latched on metallic wristband like shackles around Walter's wrists, removing the original handcuffs, Walter's hands fell from behind his back. Little did the man see that Walter was more satisfied than bothered by his new restraints. 

 

"Those bands censor any detection of hostile actions as well as neutralize any fluctuation of energy or adrenaline. Probably something a little too advanced for someone like you. Enjoy your stay, and do let us know if there's ANYthing you need..." The man spoke with sarcastic emphasis in his arrogance. Then the door slid shut, locking yet again.

 

Walter examined his new restraints as he was now free to move his arms about. He was very facinated by the technology of this place. Facinated indeed. Walter reached into his worn overcoat;

 

"Oh, I think I'll be just fine..." Walter spoke to himself menacingly as he pulled out a small round tin container, tossing it once in the air and catching it firmly.

[MyLittleHellhound]

Isis Kuang

Lincoln Medical Center, New York

Year 2025

 

 

Isis turned away from the corner as soon as the girl had started to approach her. She felt oddly fearful of stranger in the pink dress. Never, in her entire life, had she seen that glow before. She risked another look around the whitewashed corner, keeping her long hair from dangling with one slender hand. The girl and the doctor, both radiating light and darkness, vanished beyond the double swinging doors. Isis carefully walked up to them, intending to follow. Just as she was about to push them open, a young orderly dressed in dark scrubs stepped in front of her.

 

"Excuse me miss, this area is for hospital staff only," he stared at her and cleared his throat.

 

Isis was just a bit shorter than him. She gathered some motes of light from the lights and put them behind her, making it seem like she glowed. She looked up and gave him a bright white smile.

 

"Please? Just...I have to see someone in there. It'll only be just for a moment."

 

The orderly flushed cleared his throat noisily. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

 

"Just one moment, I guess. Just one though." he held the door open for her.

 

Isis walked past him into the restricted area, letting the glow fade. She started searching for the blue haired girl, grabbing a white doctor's coat off of a hook and slinging it on. Passing by a dozen rooms, she saw no radiating lights, only the normal ones. There was a commotion in the next room. Stopping abruptly and grabbing a clipboard off a nearby shelf, she hid her face behind it and peered into the room. There was a man on the operating table looking extremely dazed. Dr. Vahlmer and the blue haired girl were standing next to him, their backs away from the door. They were talking to him, asking him questions. From her limited view, Isis saw that he was bruised and battered. But what really caught her eye was the same pulsating light that emanated from the girl with blue hair. Two of them in the same room, and Dr. Vahlmer? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? It appeared that Vahlmer and the girl were done with the man; it was time to leave. Isis put the clipboard back into place and strode quickly through the hallways, praying to Ra for some goddamn answers. 

[Rissole25]

Tia Rydia
Lincoln Medical Center
Year 2025

 

Tia watched as Mr. Meier went into the CT scan. She looked at his face. He looked calm, and collected, apart from being in pain. But there was a sadness in him that he tried not to show. Tia felt a little sad for him. That's when she really started to look at him, just before his head went in. His facial features. He looked very similar to an old ally of hers and Kasady.

He looks just like-

 

"The scans are ready", said Vahlmer, looking down at a flat white table. She walked over beside him, as Marshall Meier's body appeared as a 3D holographic body. Vahlmer swiped the air, and the holograph body turned into a skeletal figure, along with all his organs and muscle tissue. Large red areas showed where the injuries were, what was affected. Parts of his arms and legs were red, as well as his chest and head. Vahlmer parted his hands by the holographs chest, zooming in.

"What can you see, Ms Rydia", spoke Vahlmer.

"Hmm...", said Tia. She bent down and stared, trying to look for irregularities. "His heartbeat appears to be normal. Ummmm...his lungs don't appear to be punctured or anything. It doesn't look like there are any irregularities with that area", she said, hoping she was right.

Vahlmer zoomed out. "I thought the same", in a dull tone. "Now, we'll check the head trauma", as he zoomed in on the head and brain. Red covered the head, showing that Mr. Meier had hit his head.

"The trauma looks fairly normal", said Tia. "But...it...doesn't look like its damaged his brain or anything. I...think he was very lucky to not permanently damage anything". Vahlmer looked up when Tia had said this. He started to open his mouth to speak, but stopped as the room dimmed and flashed. The holograph went on and off, as power to the hospital surged and flickered. And than it stopped. Everything was back to normal.

"What the hell was that?", said Vahlmer, looking around for an answer.

"Doctor...", said Tia.

"What?", he said annoyed.

"Look!", she said, pointing to the holographic brain. Vahlmer leaned in, wondering what she was pointing at. Than he saw it. The head was still red, but in the brain, was an orange light. Vahlmer zoomed in on the cerebal cortex. The orange light was coming from the Parietal lobe, and it appeared to be pulsating. Vahlmer immediately started scribing down notes hastily.

"What...what does orange stand for?", asked a confused Tia.

Vahlmer ignored her, finishing up his notes. When he was done, he spoke to her.

"We're going to head back to HASTE with Mr. Meier. I can study what this means when we get there".

[Undead]

Andrew Demkowicz

New York City - Manhattan

Year 2025

 

2 weeks earlier...

 

The streets of Manhattan were lit up like a Christmas tree, the night was young. Commotion and traffic echoed through and between each tall building. The further away from the main streets you were, the shorter and older the buildings got, and the number of the homeless gradually increased. It was relatively quieter that the rest of the Big Apple as well. The homeless usually remained isolated from the average civilian, except to try and collect any money in busy parts of the city. Except one homeless man who was considerably more cheerful, especially for a bum;

 

The man whistled joyfully to himself, walking down the back alley towards the quieter side of town as he rummaged through a brown paper bag of his collections for the day.

 

"A can of Spam... heh, really? I'll be sure not to write "anything helps" from now on..." He muttered to himself, chuckling between his words. 

 

*CRASH!*

 

The man stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the sound of garbage cans and bags falling over down a small alley break between the two buildings directly ahead of him. He approached the alley curiously;

 

"Ugh..." 

 

The man saw another man, slowly rolling over, with his hand on his head as he rolled into an exhausted seated position:

 

"Hey! You okay buddy?" 

 

The man quickly looked over towards the opening of the small alley way where the voice came from, everything was blurred and hazy. 

 

"You'll never find anything good in that pile of shit. Believe me." The man shouted.

 

The other man began to slowly make his way to his feet, still holding his head and checking for blood.

 

"Do you usually dive head first when you go dumpster diving?" The man shouted again, lighting up a cigarette from a new pack he pulled out of his brown bag;

 

"What's your name, son?" 

 

The other man looked confused as he stared at the man talking to him at the opening of the alley, he hesitated then spoke:

 

"A-Andrew..."

 

The man let out a puff of smoke in the shape of a donut, then smiled at it proudly; then studied Andrew for a moment; he was dressed with an old brown bomber jacket, pants and leather boots.

 

"Damn you from the 40's or something, son?" 

 

Andrew didn't say anything.

 

The man laughed to himself; taking one more hit and tossing his cigarette aside.

 

"I'm just messin' with ya son, the name's Skip. At your service." 

 

Andrew looked around in awe, clearly this place wasn't blown up. Infact he's never seen anything like it before.

 

"Wh- where am I?" Andrew questioned cautiously.

 

"You must've hit your head harder than I thought. You're in Manhattan, the big apple. Or the "big shithole" if you ask me." 

 

Andrew stumbled, then slowly walked out from the alley way and looked at all the stuctures and streets around him, everything was different. Different and futuristic. Andrew couldn't believe it, he hasn't jumped like that in months. He hoped he'd never have to do it again. There's no telling where he'll end up.

 

"Next you'll probably ask me what year it is or somethin'..." 

 

Andrew looked over at Skip staring at him with curiosity.

 

Skip chuckled.

 

"You're shitting me..."

 

Andrew just let out a faint smirk of guilt.

 

"I stopped counting after 4065..." 

 

Andrew about choked, Skip just starting laughing again:

 

"Nah I'm just messin', it's 2025 son."

 

Andrew reaction didn't change; he looked around him once more, muttering to himself:

 

"Holy shit..."

[MegaAfroMan]

Marshall Meier

Lincoln Medical Center

Year 2025

 

 

"Why is it so hard to concentrate...?"  Marshall thought. That particular thought happened to be one of the only entirely cogent thoughts he had created since his accident.

 

 Filling his head was, well the closest description was a buzzing feeling. Not a sound, but a feeling. It seemed to be coming from the very walls in the same way that you could see the color of paint, he could feel the buzzing of something in the walls. 

Then they moved him into the scanning room. The sensation there was overwhelming. He could feel it in the walls and definitely in the machines. It was all too much. 

"What- buzzing. Why?" He stretched his mind to the limit to ponder that almost-a-question until a few dots emerged. Normally the dots naturally come to him pre-connected, but right now just figuring out where to start was a massive breakthrough.

"Machines- I- buzzing. Feeling in walls. Power. I can- power. Machines need power. Walls carry power. My cells hold power."

Slowly the answer drifted into focus, it was electricity he was feeling. Somehow. He had discovered a few years prior that he was very resistant to electrical shock, and about a year ago after conducting some personal tests, that he could hold electrical charges in his body and release them at will. Granted the charges were usually comparable to a double-A battery, but it was still highly unusual. 

Electricity. Somehow, that fall screwed up the wiring in his head even further to give him the ability to actually sense electric fields. Boy was it annoying. 

"Maybe I can- maybe... quiet it down. Block it out. Stop. Shut up. Stop. Stop. Stop! Stop!" Marshall fought within his head to try and mentally block out the sensation, not coincidentally, the power began to falter in the room. Lights flickered, the machines shut down. Only for a moment. Long enough to distract Marshall from what he was doing, which allowed the power to resume on its merry way.

"What the hell was that?" said his Doctor. Doctor Valhmer. The rushed voice from oh-so-long ago.

"Doctor..." said the other Doctor. The Pink Doctor. Ms. Rydia. Valhmer called her that. She was the nice voice from earlier.

 

"What?" snapped Valhmer.

"Look!" Ms. Rydia said. Marshall had no idea what exactly she was referring to as his head was in a scanner. Until he remembered his head was in a scanner.

"Oh. I wonder what- what is going to happen." Marshall worried, he spent the last few years trying to secure a future outside of lab research. He didn't exactly want to become the subject of someone else's lab research. 

"What... what does orange stand for?" asked Ms. Rydia in a confused tone.

She never got a response. Doctor Valhmer was scribbling down something on his papers.

"We're going to head back to HASTE with Mr. Meier. I can study what this means when we get there," Doctor Valhmer said a few moments later. 

"Hey- Hey excuse me. Where is that- place. I don't- why are we- I want to stay here." Marshall objected. He hoped if he fussed enough he'd be left alone, and perhaps get out of this. He started to try and sit up.

"Ow." That thought was clear as day. Of course it had to be. He didn't sustain any major injuries but he was severely bruised and battered in general. Everything was sore, stiff, and tired.

"Ms. Rydia, please talk him into cooperating, or sedate him, or something. He is too important, and possibly too dangerous to let walk out the front door. I'm going to arrange transport for us back to the HASTE facility. Once you've controlled the situation, please bring him and yourself to the roof." Doctor Valhmer ordered. He sounded very focused. This was important to him. 

"I- okay. I'll try." Ms. Rydia responded as he was already leaving the room.

 

 

 

Marshall's brain kicked into high-gear as he began to run through scenarios which allowed him to leave here without becoming a lab rat. Even though things were fuzzy, he was still very fast. Inside his head, running on adrenaline, he was able to skip the entire tricky concept of 'words' and just process raw probabilities. 

"Before we go," Marshall said, slowly trying to force out the words in a steady stream as to avoid stuttering or losing track of his sentence, "I'd like to use the restroom, and search the lobby quick. Just to make sure my family isn't looking for me here."

"I felt like that sentence went well. Too bad my family has no idea I'm here. Maybe I can find someone to temporarily 'adopt'..."  Marshall thought. Time to put the plan into action. 

Marshall got up and stumbled into the bathroom attached to his hospital room as Ms. Rydia gathered the essential items to bring along. He tripped and caught himself by latching on to a near by table. He quickly ripped off a piece of paper and balled it in his hand.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Still getting used to moving." He muttered to the concerned Ms. Rydia. 

Continuing forward at a slightly faster pace, he swiped a pen and went into the bathroom.

"I hate- words!" Marshall growled under his breath, trying to come up with something quick, concise, and complete enough to be of any use.  
He scribbled down his mobile phone number. It should be with his things. He scribbled down the word HASTE. Those are important. 

please call telephone number in 24 hours. Try many times for 24 after that. If never receive answer, or first phrase isn't "What's up buttercup" contact police. Report Marshall Meier missing. Last known location: Lincoln Medical Center. Give cell number. They track it. Also HASTE facility. My life may be in your hands.

Marshall read over the quickly scrawled letter, and added in a quick after thought. He scribbled down his motel address and room, and a combination to the safe in his room. 

P.S. please go to motel. In closet is safe. Open it, keep some money, please, take steel case. Do not open. Just get it out. It is very important to me. 

 

"There. I'll be down up to a few hundred dollars. Practically my last few hundred dollars, but alright."

Marshall scanned the letter one more time, and decided that with the designs missing, he didn't want to take the chance that this place trying to study him searches his room and finds the prototype for his "Phaser". The power source still isn't functional, but the main design is, and if he's not going to profit off of it, no one should. Plus he was starting to doubt that the 'nice' voice, Ms. Rydia, was really going to find time to look for his briefcase anymore.

He folded up the note as small as he could, and palmed it. He flushed the toilet. For effect. Turned on the sink. And then left the bathroom. 

"Are we ready to go to the lobby now? Just for a quick look. Please. Sure beats sedating me, doesn't it?" Marshall pleads.

"Alright, but just a quick look, and regardless of who you do or do not find, I'm afraid they cannot come with you, and you shouldn't stay with them." She said softly. It almost seemed like she pitied him.

 

 

 

 

 

The pair walked down the halls, Ms. Rydia carrying a bag which he assumed held his clothes, and phone, and other items, and Marshall stumbling down the hall. Part of it was just for effect, so that his early falls to grab the paper and pen, and any future ones he may need to use wouldn't stand out as odd. Part of it was real, despite the thrill of a puzzle, and the adrenaline of the situation, he was still really stiff.

The lobby was full of people, some waiting to be told where their loved ones were, some waiting to get an appointment themselves, and some waiting to hear news. Some were glowing. No. One person was. Kind of. 

When he looked directly at the girl she looked normal, but out of the corner of his eye, she almost seemed to glow. Her. Might as well be her then. 

Marshall lurched toward the girl putting extra distance between him and Ms. Rydia for a few seconds in this noisy lobby. 

"Please, help." Marshall said, clear as day, staring straight into her eyes. 

He then adjusted his stance as if to recover from the sudden lunge and said loudly:

"Sister! My dearest little sister! How great it is to see you." He pulled her into a quick loose hug. 
"Now I know Mum and Pop must be worried sick, but you can go and tell them that I'm perfectly fine! Mostly. A little banged up, but so far so good." 

Marshall tried his best to express his need for help and for her to not freak out with his eyes whenever he made eye contact. She hadn't screamed or pushed him away yet, so that was a good sign. 

"Listen, I need to go with this nice pink doctor here to a different hospital. They have better equipment I would assume, to make sure there is no permanent brain damage from the concussion I had earlier. Don't worry about me, I should be out and free within a few days I would think!" Marshall continued as he clasped her hand with both of his.

He slid the note from his hand into hers and used his other hand to close her fist around it. He really hoped she'd read it and follow through. At least with the first half. 

"So yeah, I'll see you soon!" He pulled her into a quick hug again, before leaving. 

"Thanks for that, even if it was a bit rushed, I'm just glad I know that she won't be worrying." he said to Ms. Rydia as they left the lobby and entered into the elevator.

My. Rydia looked rather skeptical. Probably because that girl and Marshall looked nothing alike. Luckily Marshall had an answer to that look. A weak one, but the best he could come up with.

"She was adopted, but it doesn't make any difference. Family is family," he said.

"So, do you think you could tell me exactly where it is that we're going?"

He hoped that Ms. Rydia didn't think too much of the girls lack of words, or reactions to his rambling, and just took at as someone with a rattled brain, in a rush, trying to spill out as many words as he can to his worried sister. 

He also hoped that he picked right. Usually he understood his choices, but this one he didn't. The girl simply seemed to draw him in. It must have been the glowing. Yeah. Definitely the glowing. 

 

He hoped that the instructions would work. He wasn't able to think of a way to completely avoid going to the facility, just as well he was a little curious about exactly what they wanted. If they gave him freedom enough he could simply answer the phone when the stranger called and just be short a few hundred dollars for panicking. But the worst case scenario, if they had seen something, has him becoming a lab rat. He wanted to avoid that at all costs. He could only hope HASTE wasn't a secret government division, or illuminati, or whatever, otherwise the police wouldn't do him any help at all.

 

Finally, he hoped that she wouldn't just take his money and ignore the rest of the instructions.

 

[MyLittleHellhound]

Isis Kuang
Lincoln Medical Center, New York
Year 2025

Isis was thoroughly confused after her run in at the hospital. Stuffing the note into her pocket, she went looking for a better meal on the streets. They were always busy and the honking of taxis drowned out almost everything else. Isis found a small cafe, laying out the crumpled note. She hadn't gotten a good look at it but felt it was of at least some significance. The man who had called her "sister" was delirious, she concluded to herself. He had been in an accident, surely that must have knocked his brain loose. But Isis couldn't shake the fact that he had chosen her- her, out of the dozens of people in the lobby. She took a closer look at the messy scrawl. A phone number she should call in 24 hours at first, instructions to call the police depending on the response, a motel address and number and the safe code. She wondered briefly what was in the briefcase. After all, it wasn't every day that something happened like this...

Isis ordered an espresso and danced her fingers across the motes of light that swam in her vision as she waited.


-------------------------

Exactly 24 hours later, she called the phone number from her hotel room. The phone buzzed several times before someone picked up. A voice, unknown to her ears, crackled.

"Hello? Who is this?" the mysterious voice asked her.

Isis quickly hung up and glanced at the sheet of paper.

Call him again in six hours Isis.

Why? I don't even know the guy. This could be a huge prank...

At least go to the motel. Get the briefcase. Maybe you'll get something out of this.

What if it's a trap? What if it doesn't exist?

Neith wouldn't weave you into one of those, would she? And at the very most you'll have not gotten a couple hundred bucks...right?

Come on, I don't even...

Just go.

Isis sighed and grabbed her handbag, taking the slip of paper before she headed out the door. She looked at her knife sitting on the table, then looked down at her hands. Shadows and lights flickered beneath her skin. She could take care of herself. Closing the door behind her with a click, Isis walked down the hallway. A man dressed in the black suit of a lawyer appeared at the other end of the hallway, talking on his phone. His eyes lingered on her for just a second before flicking to some papers he held in his hand. She passed by him, examining the lights within him as she did so. Everything was at normal levels...perhaps a bit on the shadowy end but-

An orange glow flickered within.

She looked at him again, meeting his coal black eyes. He ended the call on his cellphone and pocketed it.

"Excuse me miss, is there a problem?" he frowned. His hand holding the papers strayed to his side.

Isis tensed.

"No sorry. You look like someone I know, that's all," she said with a quick smile.

The man nodded, his eyes still on her. They went their separate ways. Isis stopped at the elevator, waiting for it to chime. It never did. Something whispered in the back of her head, an urgent voice that willed her body to action. She turned to the suited man as he drew a compact pistol and fired on her. The bullets whipped past her face, one grazing her cheek and leaving a red score. They smacked into the dark oak paneling on the far side of the hallway. The man fired again. Isis barely stopped them, hastily throwing up a wall of swirling shadow that swallowed up the projectiles. Her assassin calmly reloaded, loading what she realized was now darts into the gun.

"We're supposed to take you alive you know. He wants you alive," the man chuckled.

Isis put a hand to her cheek. It was bleeding, coating her hand in crimson. She smiled at him.

"You don't think I'm that easy to get, do you?" Isis flipped him the finger. She was terrified.

The man squared up to her and fired a dart at her, just as Isis sucked out all the light on the floor. All of that light coalesced into a miniature sun, a bubble of energy that could explode with terrific force. Isis tossed it from hand to hand as the man fired blindly into the dark.

"Stupid bitch! Vahlmer will get you one way or another! You can't hide!" he roared into the shadows.

Isis sighed and threw the blazing projectile at the man. It burst on contact, disintegrating him from the inside out. His eyes blazed and he collapsed to the floor, a smoking pile of ash. The dart gun thudded to the carpet.

Her hands shook and she leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and trying not to faint. It was hard. She had never sucked the power out of an entire floor before. Maybe a room, but that cost a significant amount of effort. She fished the wrinkled piece of paper out of her pocket, looking at the address.

Time to find that briefcase.

[Undead]

Andrew Demkowicz

New York, 2 Blocks from Lincoln Medical Center

Year 2025

 

24 Hours Earlier...

 

Andrew sat in a booth near the window at an old cafe on the corner of the busy streets of New York, glancing passively out the window as he pondered his life back on the farm in Georgia. It tore him apart. To watch everything disappear in a cloud of smoke and fire, Maggie, the children, everyone. And he couldn't do anything about it. Even if he got to them in time, he couldn't bare the thought of jumping them through time when even he doesn't know where they'll end up. It would be too much for them. Too dangerous. Hell, it nearly got him and his gifted friends before them killed before. 

 

As Andrew beat himself over the loss, he countered it with the good memories as well. He thought of them in his mind:

 

"Dammit boy, you scare me like that one more time with you're freaky magic tricks and I'll beat your ass!"

 

Andrew smiled faintly to himself, then was interrupted by a familiar voice;

 

"Well well, if it ain't garbage boy out for a cup-a-joe, why didn't you tell me you could afford this shit?"

 

Andrew quickly turned to see Skip, dressed in his rugged brown overcoat and fedora approaching his booth.

 

"You never asked" Andrew said jokingly.

 

Skip swung into the booth across from Andrew with an unamused expression;

 

"Well now you can buy me one, smart ass..."

 

Andrew smiled timidly as he took a sip of his coffee, glancing over at the counter as an unusual gal approached the counter; he focused on her for a few seconds;

 

"Yo, earth to Andrew..." Skip spoke annoyed, he looked over towards the counter as well:

 

"Who is that woman?" Andrew asked curiously.

 

"Who the bronze gal at the counter? She ain't from around her I can tell ya that." 

 

Skip paused for a moment, glancing at her again, he was frozen as he stared at her,

 

"What is it?" 

 

Skip shook his head.

 

"Don't worry about it man. She's trouble. So if you got the hots for her, you should just forget it." Skip spoke passively with concern in his voice.

 

"Do you know her?" Andrew asked accusingly.

 

"Do I look like I'd know her? Just trust me, I've dealt with a lot of women in my time."

 

Andrew looked back at her as she twirled her fingers in front of her, she definitely was an odd one. 

[Rissole25]

Tia Rydia
HASTE Facility
Year 2025

"You look better!", exclaimed Tia as she walked into the gym. Kasady was the only one in there, on a treadmill. She was going at a steady, but fast pace on it. She looked at Tia and smiled, turning off the treadmill as she stepped off the treadmill puffing. She grabbed a bottle of water and almost sculled the whole thing down.

"Thanks", Kasady laughed. "Didn't want to just lay around in my room all day", sitting down and wiping her forehead with a towel. Tia sat down next to her.

"Do you...", Tia mumbled, "...remember anything?"

"No...", Kasady replied, taking the last swig of water. "I don't"

"It'll be okay", Tia said, giving a weak smile. Kasady stood up and walked over to the window overlooking New York City. She put her hand to it and looked down.

"Enough of about me, what's going on with you?", she asked, turning around.

"What do you mean?", replied Tia

"Well...how are you a doctor? What were you doing that took a whole day?"

"Well..."said Tia. "They picked us up when you were hurt", she looked around quickly to make sure no one was around, and said in a hushed voice "I lied and said I was a doctor".

"Heh", Kasady said, folding her arms.

"By some miracle, they believed me", Tia continued. "After you were brought here, I volunteered to help some other patients who were here. It was lot harder than I expected, but I managed to do all that stuff secretly. They were amazed at how fast these patients were recovering once I saw them. I've basically just been helping ever since".

"Well what about yesterday?", Kasady asked. "You only just came back. What took you?"

Tia put her hand on her head. "Sorry about that. HASTE does a partnership with a local hospital, they provide support there sometimes. Anyway, we had a patient who had been hit by a car. Scans showed he had an abnormality in his brain, and another doctor wanted to bring him back here".

"That doesn't explain..."

"I know. I know", continued Tia, "I was actually back yesterday, but I had to look after the patient. He was put into sedation and I just had to make sure he was fine over the next 12 hours.

"Couldn't you...", Kasady asked. "You know?"

"Too many other people there. Quite a lot actually", Tia began wondering. "There usually doesn't need to be that many people monitoring a patient.....well anyway, after making sure his vitals were fine I left him with Dr. Vahlmer, and just came to see you!", Tia piped.

[Undead]

Kasady Rhodes

HASTE Facility

Year 2025

 

Tia smiled a grin that was obviously meant to hide concern, there was a brief moment of an awkward pause as Kasady threw her towel around her neck and glanced back out the window, looking over the modern city. Tia walked up beside her without taking her eyes off her, she noticed her necklace hanging off Kasady's neck. She smiled again genuinely. Kasady let out a sigh of exhaustion as she studied the complex layout of the city;

 

"I feel like I should be more concerned about where we're at right now..." Kasady said passively.

 

Tia let out a nervous laugh, glancing out the window as well.

 

"It's a strange place, that's for sure" Tia spoke softly.

 

"I'll bet the stores are just as strange" Kasady muttered jokingly; Tia looked at Kasady

 

"I wouldn't know actually, I've been too busy making sure you were alive" Tia joked back. Kasady's eyes met Tia's as she smirked with amusement.

 

"As long as new clothes are on you, you can say what you want!" Kasady finally jabbed back. Tia chuckled to herself;

 

"I had a feeling I'd regret that bit in my note to you. I'm glad you're doing better!" Tia piped, she looked at the necklace again, touching it gently;

 

"It looks good on you" Tia spoke warmly.

 

Suddenly a voice echoed from the entrance to the gym:

 

"Doctor, could I speak with you for a moment?" 

 

"Duty calls... I'll see you later?" spoke Tia.

 

Kasady watched she Tia met up with the other doctor and disappeared into the hall, curiously feeling the necklace hum and vibrate in her hand.

 

 

[MegaAfroMan]

Marshall Meier

HASTE Facility, New York

Year 2025

 

 

 

Sometimes, life is funny. You're trying to sell designs for a laser weapon to a security company one minute, and then you're hit by a car the next.

"His vitals are holding well. The sedative should wear off sometime soon."

Sometimes, life is funny. You're sensing electricity in the walls one minute, and then causing a power failure in an entire hospital the next.

"Further tests need to be done, the examination of his cells has revealed some very strange things. He has many times more Iron in his blood cells than he should, along with noticeable amounts of Cobalt, Copper, and Neodymium."

Sometimes, life is funny. You're causing a scene in a hospital lobby to try and covertly recruit help from a complete stranger one minute, and then sedated after entering a helicopter the next.

"Wake up." A new voice sounded. This wasn't either of his early doctors.

"Wake up? When did I go to sleep?" Marshall struggled with that thought. 

 

"Did they drug me? Really? I was cooperating!" As his memory began to color in, Marshall started regaining consciousness.

"Wake up." The voice cut through again. He was very insistent.

Marshall found himself in a bed. Again. Another hospital bed. The humming here was even more persistent, however after a few moments of adjustment he was able to tune it down. 

"What?" Marshall groaned. This was the second time he woke up without knowingly going to sleep. It was exhausting.

"Good. We needed to make sure you would still have full control of all your bodily functions. Speech and other mental functions appear to be intact." The new doctor droned on. 

"We need to go through some quick tests, then we will take you to the Recreational Center, to let you recover a little from all these periods of unconsciousness." He continued. 

The room was definitely different from a standard hospital room. Everything was sleeker, cleaner, newer. It was inexplicably off-putting. 

"And do I have a choice there? Or am I a prisoner?" Marshall asked bluntly. 

"Well, you're not a prisoner, but I suggest you cooperate. This place, we are authorized to do anything necessary to ensure our patients do not endanger the general public. You are different, whether you know it or not, and we need to make sure you aren't going to be a danger to anyone." The doctor replied.

After several basic reflex, vision, and nerve tests Marshall was deemed functional as the doctor scribbled results onto a clipboard. 

"Alright. I need to run these results to Doctor Vahlmer. You should dress and head on down to the Recreation Center. You'll find clothing in the closet. The computer here will guide you via LED signs to the Recreational Center when you leave the room." The doctor concluded, nodded, and promptly left the room.

 

Marshall walked over to the closet and browsed the great selection of identical gray pants and shirts. After dressing fully, he walked out the door.

"Follow the arrows on the floor to the Recreation Center." Chimed a corporate standard female voice. 

A trail of bright green arrows lit a path through the halls. Marshall followed them, seeing no good alternative. Besides, recreation didn't sound too bad at this moment. He was sure to keep his eyes open for any intel on his journey. 

Winding through identical hallways, only led by the arrows Marshall wove through the building. The arrows ended at a set of doors. 

"Recreation Center is ahead." The voice chimed again.

"I never really cared for exercise. However it certainly beats more needles and sedatives." Marshall thought as he pushed open the doors and entered into a gym full of various sleek and fancy looking pieces of exercise equipment.



 

[MyLittleHellhound]

Isis Kuang

Outskirts of New York City 

Year 2025

 

The motel was sandwiched between a dirty looking garage and some equally shabby office buildings. Dreary looking clouds had rolled in from the west as Isis had the taxi pull up in front of the "correct" room. She paid the man and shut the door behind her, sparing a glance around her. Most of the motel's occupants were shut up inside their rooms behind doors painted a peeling white. The strange man's motel room was shut tight and the curtains were drawn. She looked around for another second before drawing some light from behind the clouds as she pointed her finger at the scratched-up lock. Light collected around her finger and snapped out, punching through the metal like a hot knife through butter. The door swung inwards and Isis wrinkled her nose at the slight mustiness of the room. She crossed the stained carpet, a knife of shadow forming up into her hand. If this was a trap she wasn't taking any chances. There was no one else in the room with her. Isis ripped open the closet and was presented with a steel gray safe. There was a thick lock on that too, covered in minute scratches. She slid the shadow knife into the lock and it shriveled away from the tip as if the shadows were a disease. The safe swung open, squeaking on un-oiled hinges. The steel briefcase with the keypad locks was sitting unceremoniously on a pile of crumpled papers. Isis took it and looked around once more before closing the motel room door behind her. It gave her the creeps.

 

The HASTE facility...what was that?

 

Time to do some research.Hopefully I can do this without more of those men trying to kill me.

 

Isis called a taxi over and quickly got in.

 

"Lincoln Medical Center please,' she asked him. The driver nodded and began to turn out of the motel, turning the radio to a different station as he did so.

 

"An unexplained power failure in the Messerschmidt Hotel and various events stemming from that has led police to find what are believed to be human ashes scattered around the hallway. These ashes are being identified and more details will be released soon."

 

Shit.