Lucas was anxious. And frustrated at the same time. Two years of developing the bionic chip led to this moment. He was going to have to explain everything to the four subjects that should've arrived days earlier. The scouts were pretty poorly trained. They could have just been given a map and sent out instead of wasting two days "training" when all they were really doing is getting some drinks and talking about their escortees. Lucas was so eager to test the chips, even going as far as to want to test it on himself first. But the Head Scientist said that if the operation killed him, there would be no one to convincingly explain the motives of the organization to the four arriving subjects. In short, Lucas was the only one in the building (or tent, if you wanted to be more technical) who wasn't an<span style="font-style: italic">entire</span>monotonous douchebag.<br/><br/>Exiting the main lab in his white lab coat, t-shirt and dress pants, Lucas headed down the cramped hallways of the tent, pushing past some people who glared at him for a few seconds but then continued on with their business. He finally reached the exit of the lab tent and shielded his eyes from the Sun. For a mere tent, it sure did block the sunlight well. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted and he walked a few steps to the living quarters tent, where his family shared a nice space, larger than most guests. The Amatos were treated well in the organization. After all, their son was one of the lead technicians on technology that could revolutionize the Borderlands. They must've been so proud.<br/><br/>Entering the tent, Lucas headed down the hallway and made a left, lifting up a blanket and entering the average living room of the household. There were small chairs and blankets used as rugs as well as a table in the middle of the chairs. It functioned as a dining room as well. Right in front of the tables were two separate blankets. The one to the left of the table was his bedroom, and the one to the left was his parents. The beds were low, and they only had double beds if needed, so Lucas had a single bed. They weren't very furnished either. You couldn't hang paintings or anything on a tent, and there was barely enough room for a side table and a lamp.<br/><br/>He entered his room and laid down on the soft, squishy material of his mattress. Only two seconds after he closed his eyes, he heard an intercom (which miraculously worked when they tried to install it across the tents) placed in every room, every hallway call out,<span style="font-style: italic">Lucas Amato. Please report to the drawing room as soon as possible.</span><br/><br/>Sighing, Lucas reluctantly sat back up and exited his family's quarters. Leaving the tent, he walked back to the main tent and all the way down the hallway to the last set of blankets. The drawing room. He'd only been there a couple of times, and all those times they were discussing serious matters. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood. He was tired, anxious and frustrated with everyone, and he wanted to rest. He pushed past the blankets and saw many of his co-workers and what he presumed was an important figure of the organization sitting around tables placed next to each other. Each and every one of them was staring at him.<br/><br/>"Dr. Amato. Have a seat," the figure at the end of the table gestured to the seat closest to Lucas. The black-haired scientist sat down slowly, sitting up straight and clasping his hands together. He was never called Dr. Amato. In the lab, even his co-workers called him Lucas. It wasn't condescending, really. They all had the same respect for him as they had for one another. Dr. Amato made him feel much more respected, as well as more awkward and embarrassed. "We have called you here because we must inform you that three of the bionic subjects have entered the premises. We would like you to greet them, make them feel welcome. Perhaps getting to know you would increase the chances of them agreeing to our terms and the operation. And make them feel more comfortable when you're explaining the operation to them, of course," the man at the end of the table continued. "We will have them meet you in the cafeteria. Is that fine with you?"<br/><br/>Lucas felt a sigh of relief when the man said that two of the subjects had arrived. Finally. People his age. He had been the only person under the age of twenty for the past few years, with a few newborns here and there. Lucas had dazed out a bit, but he snapped back into reality when the man asked him if he was fine with meeting the subjects in the cafeteria. "Oh, um, yessir. I'll be ready," he replied hastily.<br/><br/>"Very well," the man nodded and held a microphone up to his mouth. "Simian Morton, Zackary Tanner, Crayton Holloway, please guide your escortees to the cafeteria as soon as possible," he recited in the same monotonous tone which he used to speak in person. The message echoed throughout the tent. "You may go, Lucas."<br/><br/>Lucas stood up from his chair and headed out of the drawing room. Once again, he walked down the hallway of the tent. A few hundred paces away from the drawing room, two blankets blocked the cafeteria. He pushed right through both of them. The cafeteria was the largest room in the entire headquarters. Everyone ate there, no matter what. If you wanted to bring some food back to your quarters, you could, but that was a rare sight. People wanted to socialize after a long day of work, so they ate and spoke with others at the cafeteria. Lucas and his family were one of the only groups of people that took food back to their quarters. For family time. He only entered the cafeteria to get food to bring back to his quarters or to get a snack before heading back to the lab.<br/><br/>Sitting down at a seat that had him facing the door, Lucas clasped his hands and put them on the table. He sat upright, and he waited.