More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Nykteus on 16-05-2013, 00:46:14</h2>
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				Title: <strong>More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>16-05-2013, 00:46:14</strong>
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				For a place that did not exist, the Foundry was always a bustling hive of activity. The eight sections covered everything from R&amp;D to Operations, always working to extend the agency's influence further and farther than before. For many that worked there it was a profitable career with ample opportunity for advancement, for others it was life, the place where they'd been bred and built into something new. For the most part, the Foundry seemed precious little different from the rest of the world's intelligence agencies, distinguished more by competence and resources than aught else. While it often took things a step beyond the amoral pragmatism one saw in the CIA and their ilk, few were aware of the full extent of the evils lurking beneath the surface. Classification was high, and those who might have taken issue with experimentation on living, sapient organisms rarely saw more than the end results of such efforts, the Prototypes.<br><br>For much of the time, the Prototypes were occupied with training and studying, there was no concept of time off or play for them, they weren't people, machines and chattel at best. While they weren't treated with cruelty, anyone attempting to do unnecessary harm to the priceless youths would have been promptly executed, they were worked to the very limits of their endurance. Anything less would have been wasteful. Fraternising, among themselves or with others, was strictly discouraged, and much of their free time was spent in their own quarters, which were essentially comfortable cells, with ready access to gym and study materials but without much freedom to roam. It was a necessity, of course, they were dangerous individuals, giving them too much time to communicate with one another was far too risky to be countenanced. After all, the Foundry had ample evidence of what they could do when functioning as a team.<br><br>The name was fanciful, as so many of the Foundry's codenames were, Zhayedan squad. The Immortals. A name that they had lived up to rather well, giving their extremely high success rate, and kill count, compared to a casualty rating of zero. Once more their reputation was to be put to the test, as the briefing room beckoned. A small room, it had sturdy benches on the far side of a long table, facing towards the wall of high definition screens upon which the relevant data was displayed. Commander Montgomery, the lean, sallow skinned old soldier, dressed in his drab brown coveralls, stood like a statue of himself in the room, waiting for the squad to gather so the briefing could begin.
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Branwen</strong> on <strong>16-05-2013, 04:37:56</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/aaad5c32a1cc5158823b021e3fd7c3f4/tumblr_mmppuna0xf1rlxy60o1_500.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Maybelline (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8210032#msg8210032)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad / Human Interface Specialist <br><strong>Location:</strong> Training Room 4 / Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Genetic Material Detection and Assimilation Trial 130515-a / Reporting to Briefing Room<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> None<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br><hr><strong>Training Room 4 - Genetic Material Detection and Assimilation Trial 130515-a</strong><br><br>"This was recovered four hours ago."&nbsp; A hand with a transparent biohazard labeled bag entered Maybelline's field of vision from the left, followed by an arm in a white lab coat.&nbsp; It was all she could see with her head strapped into the examination chair.&nbsp; Dense foam pads on either side prevented Maybelline from twisting her head, all the better to keep the dead, unwinking black glass eyes of the retinal scanner precisely focused on her own.&nbsp; Likewise her left hand was strapped down to the arm of the chair, optical scanners originally developed for the AFIS - Automated Fingerprint Identification System - attached to four fingers and a thumb.&nbsp; The right was left free for Maybelline to open the bag and remove the sample.<br><br>A tube of lipstick, the cap missing and dirt or dust sticking to the cosmetic itself, as if it had been carelessly dropped.&nbsp; As her finger touched the black plastic base, Maybelline heard the labcoat's owner, a man, announce "Commence timing."<br><br>Sitting behind a bank of monitors off to the side, hidden from her view but not her hearing, Maybelline heard two other voices, both women, talking.&nbsp; Stupid.&nbsp; Baseline humans were so ignorant sometimes.&nbsp; They equated line of sight with range of hearing and often forgot how superior Maybelline's was.&nbsp; "Ugly color."<br><br>"Violet Frenzy.&nbsp; Sounds like a lesbian catfight."&nbsp; The two female researchers shared a short laugh.<br><br>"Okay," the first one said.&nbsp; "Nothing so far in the retinal pattern."<br><br>Why would there be?&nbsp; Maybelline hadn't found any genetic material yet.&nbsp; Plastic.&nbsp; Black, shiny plastic, like some of the shoes the researchers wore.&nbsp; The tube, like a disassembled pistol's barrel, was shiny gold colored and had a different specific heat.&nbsp; Maybelline knew because it felt incrementally cooler than the plastic, showing it was a better conductor, stealing heat out of her fingertips-<br><br>"Negative telemetry on left index.&nbsp; Adjust the sensor," the second one said.&nbsp; <br><br>-and making them feel cold.&nbsp; Ignored, his presence as normal as breathing, the male technician who'd delivered the sample repositioned the sensor over Maybelline's finger.<br><br>"That's good."<br><br>Waxy, smooth, slippery smooth not sleek smooth.&nbsp; As she moved her fingers along the lipstick itself, specialized receptors in micropores on Maybelline's skin searched for the sugar, phosphate and nitrogen sequences of genetic material; DNA.&nbsp; Drawing it in, the DNA was subjected to a series of genetically engineered restriction enzymes that sought out and slashed apart any that wasn't human.&nbsp; They were so precisely made that even bonobo DNA, so very similar to human, was torn apart.&nbsp; <br><br>"Endonuclease activity ramping up.&nbsp; She's found something."<br><br>"What's she doing?"<br><br>Heedless of the dirt stuck to it, Maybelline was brushing the lipstick on.&nbsp; Having never used it before, never playing with it as a little girl or experimenting with it to Teen Vogue How Tos or Youtube videos with her girlfriends then giggling over the results, Maybelline applied it carelessly like lip balm.&nbsp; A moment later her lips were a smeary mess.&nbsp; Atop them her tongue slid, exploring the feeling, the texture, the taste of the lipstick.&nbsp; Below, her lips drank in hundreds of thousands of base pairs per pore per second, flooding Maybelline's physiology with the target's DNA.<br><br>"Whoa.&nbsp; Look at that.&nbsp; Her assimilation levels are way above optimum.&nbsp; What's going on?&nbsp; Is it the sensors?"<br><br>"She's fixating."<br><br>"Code word her?"<br><br>"N...no.&nbsp; Not yet.&nbsp; It's, it's like she's heterodyning because of it.&nbsp; This may be of interest.&nbsp; Watch your instruments."<br><br>Fixation.&nbsp; A simple word for a complex phenomenon.&nbsp; To Maybelline it was as if nothing else in the world existed but the lipstick.&nbsp; It was the most amazing thing in the world, ever, ever!&nbsp; It tasted like sunshine and sin and smelled like long chain hydrocarbons looked and the feel of it, the feel was steel ice skate blades sliding over ice and she brought in a big flake of it to smear on her teeth and-<br><br>"Retinal adoption complete.&nbsp; 100% match.&nbsp; How are the fingerprints?"<br><br>"AFIS picked her out as the target.&nbsp; 48 point match.&nbsp; Better than the card itself."<br><br>"Damn.&nbsp; This is very interesting.&nbsp; This could be..."<br><br>"Not now.&nbsp; Code word her."<br><br>Maybelline hadn't heard any of it, lost in the wonder of lipstick.&nbsp; She reached to lift the tube up to her eye to really look at the color and bumped into the arm of the retinal scanner.&nbsp; Carelessly she grabbed it and bent it backwards like a goosenecked lamp.&nbsp; Aluminum tubing bent then tore under her strength and $40,000 worth of instrument dropped to the floor.<br><br>"Dammit!&nbsp; Code her now!"<br><br>She never heard the words, never remembered them.&nbsp; To Maybelline the behavioral routine activated by her code words caused her brain to dump neurochemical inhibitors.&nbsp; It was as if a heavy crystal shield slid between her and the object of her fixation, freezing it, locking it away and making it interesting but no longer obsessive.&nbsp; Blue eyes blinked, and again, as she came back.&nbsp; <br><br>"End test," the man's voice announced just a bit wryly.&nbsp; "And we're going to need a tech in here to replace the retinal scanner."<br><br><hr><strong>Briefing Room</strong><br><br>Maybelline's mouth still bore faint traces of the lipstick, though the techs had cleaned it off her cheeks before releasing Maybelline from the chair.&nbsp; She was the first one to arrive in the briefing room since the test room was nearby.&nbsp; Montgomery was there, so technically Maybelline wasn't the first, but she ignored him and sat down near the middle of the table, so other Prototypes would have no choice but to crowd in on either side.&nbsp; Physical contact was something she craved, really craved from her fellow Prototypes and Maybelline made use of every opportunity to get it.&nbsp; It wasn't unusual for her to try and hold hands with the other Prototypes during briefings, under the table, or rest her fingertips on the back of their wrists, their clothed thighs, around their waists.&nbsp; She was like one of Harlow's monkeys desperate for a mother's touch.<br><br>Even if the mother was sometimes shaped like Wicked and a huge slab of astonishingly dense muscle and barely held in check violence.
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheHangedOne</strong> on <strong>20-05-2013, 00:50:45</strong>
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				<strong>Name:</strong> Edgar 'Tech' Crowley<br><strong>Occupation/Status: </strong> Mutant/Human Computer<br><strong>Location: </strong> Tech's Office<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Being OCD<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> none<br><strong>Open to Others?:</strong> Any<br><br>"Mm... nope, nope..."He murmured to himself as he stared at something. He was in the room where he did most of his work; where he could jack himself into the computer network, and control things with his mind. And currently, because he didn't have anything important to be doing at this moment, he was organizing things.<br><br>Dusting, cleaning, rearranging; he didn't like it when things were 'out of sorts', although any normal person would wonder how he could possibly be upset. There wasn't really anything wrong at all; a bit of dust there, something not perfectly lined up. It's not a big deal, unless you happen to share 'Tech's obsessive-compulsive need to keep things highly organized.<br><br>But, that wasn't all he was doing, either. With his love of numbers, and an IQ that could qualify him for MENSA, he liked to 'build' things in his head. New guns, new computer parts, new code, new ways of creating calorie dense, good-tasting, nutritionally balanced rations... pretty much anything. Most of his thoughts, he kept to himself, and probably could never be actualized; it was just his brain going a hundred miles an hour because, much like a certain crazy actor, Tech has only one speed: <strong>GO!</strong><br><br>"No..." He adjusted the level of the office chair he usually sat in when plugged in. It could be raised or lowered, and had wheels, which he occasionally found to be bothersome. "Yes." He finally says, speaking only to himself, when he gets the chair to be at just the perfect height. Well, perfect wouldn't be the right word; but close enough. He was OCD about efficiency and the like, but at some point, his OCD cuts off; because eventually, you get to the point where optimizing requires increasing effort for decreasing returns, and that wasn't very efficient. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>bubby</strong> on <strong>20-05-2013, 02:11:04</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SIq1F9BPXHM/Ttx_TV9EcYI/AAAAAAAAAQM/McB-n_IAISM/s1600/Aeryn-Sun-farscape.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Erin Bannon (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8215231#msg8215231)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Elite Soldier/Bodyguard<br><strong>Location:</strong> Officers Gym/ Tech's Office<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Needling the nerd<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Edgar 'Tech' Crowley<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Any<br><br><br><hr>Her sparring partner gave as good as he got, that was for damn sure. Erins head snapped back and to the side as Rick's rabbit punches got passed her defenses, teeth clamping down on her mouth guard harder with each grunt she released. Yet with each punch connected, her smile got wider.<br><br>Erin was dripping in sweat, several strands of raven hair that had escaped the ponytail clinging to her neck. Her work out outfit (http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M8llWDZ_2FM/UDQ3tlqM8NI/AAAAAAAAAmM/EjUe7d7_QLg/s1600/Yoga+in+Heels+MPG+Outfit+Workout+Fitness+Fashion+Women.png) clung even more so to muscled curves. Those muscles were currently on fire, and in a good way. She'd been working out for hours, which was nothing new really. Bouncing around her opponant, her head would roll, and with a subtle wink being her only tell, she would launch herself at Rick. Faking low to his kidney, his reaction left an opening to his neck, where she delivered a pair of punches to his throat. As he ducked his head and tried to deliver a body shot of his own, she was spinning, and her foot met his dome in a harsh spin kick, sending Rick sprawling. Gasping out a barked laugh, he would raise his hands in surrender, causing Erin to grasp one to yank him back up again, playfully nudging his head with a fist. “ Damn good this time. Made me work for it. Tomorrow?”<br><br>Hands placed on knees as he panted, Rick would wave a hand in acquiescence to her request. Blowing her partner a kiss, Erin would turn, making her way through the gym to grab her bag and towel, wiping her face free of moisture and making her way out of the training room used mainly by Officers. With her mind on getting a good stiff drink, she made her way towards her private rooms; on the way there passing by the large room Edgar generally called 'home'. Erin had been ordered to keep an eye upon him, and she was finding the task easy, for now. He was <em>always</em> here. The kid was obsessive. So much so Erin enjoyed finding new and improved ways to fuck with him. Moving to stand within the open doorway, her shoulder would meet the jamb, watching in silence as “Tech” went about spending way too much time adjusting his chair. Had he determined yet that someone kept changing his adjustments? That he had to fix it <em>every</em> time he returned to his office?<br><br>With a smirk Erin would stroll into the room, idly grabbing things, checking them out, and replacing them in odd and different spots. Gesturing with her chin towards the myriad of computer screens, adjusting her bag upon a shoulder and grabbing the towel about her neck to hang onto it, narrowing blue eyes she would inquire at Edgar. “ Shouldn't you be working, and not cleaning? I've heard that the Cucullain needs more tweaking. The Director doesn't like having her Toys injured when trying to use it.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheHangedOne</strong> on <strong>20-05-2013, 02:45:21</strong>
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				<strong>Name:</strong> Edgar 'Tech' Crowley<br><strong>Occupation/Status: </strong> Mutant/Human Computer<br><strong>Location: </strong> Tech's Office<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Being antagonized/making vague threats<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Erin Bannon<br><strong>Open to Others?:</strong> Any<br><br>The moment he felt eyes on him, his right hand rose into the air, and he acted as if he was typing something; the organizing might be his obsession, but the compulsion aspect of his diagnosis was to make these typing gestures whenever he's either A) crunching a lot--by his standards-- of numbers, or B) upset.&nbsp; It's just a few moments that he does it, though. Sadly, the drug cocktail they gave him couldn't completely erase some of his issues, but they were fairly trivial now. He used to be far, far worse; not that Erin would know about that, about the time before he was taken into the Foundry.<br><br>And yes, he had reasoned that there was a 99% chance that the disorganization was being caused by another person, whose most likely motivation was a sort of sadistic&nbsp; tendency. "You're upsetting the array." He comments, idly, but with that expression on his face that indicates he's clearly bothered. "I might have to mention&nbsp; that to the Director, next time." <br><br>He would follow right after her, though, instantly going back to right what she had wronged. "I'm tech support, not R&amp;D. They haven't asked me to crunch numbers, so I don't." he stares at her for a moment; then, he does it again, the 'typing'&nbsp; thing. Just for a second. "You enjoy upsetting me. And here, I thought, you had matured beyond highschool antics. But I suppose there's a lot you just can't do." Wow, Tech has teeth today. He's usually not this assertive or snappy; in fact, this was a change of his earlier passive actions, because he realized that being passive about things was not capable of getting the results he wanted. Therefore, he had to try something new. <br><br>Since she was a soldier, and given what loves and predispositions he's noted with her, it seemed logical to attempt to use verbal force and aggression. Maybe she would better understand, or respect that.&nbsp; Possibly it could result in minor injury and/or property damage, but he kind of liked his chances, and couldn't will himself to do anything otherwise; passivity didn't work. It was no longer possible for him to make himself act passive, in this manner.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>21-05-2013, 00:26:44</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/5/51/Wicked.jpg/399px-Wicked.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Wicked (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8209926#msg8209926)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad/ Deathbeast<br><strong>Location:</strong> Test Laboratory G4/ Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Losing his temper<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> May<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Anyone<br><br><br><hr><br>It certainly wasn't that Wicked was intractable or rebellious, of all the Prototypes, he took most naturally to the soldier mentality. That was the entire point of him, to see if they couldn't refine the pack and pride mentality into the military mindset, to create something that could be a predator and a soldier at the same time. To his credit, Wicked had never really proven to be all that difficult, given the traits they had purposely built into him. He respected authority, even if he did leave many of those with whom he worked the feeling that their lives would be forfeit if they showed any weakness.<br><br>None of that really mattered to the man who was currently squirming and struggling in Wicked's grip. Dr. Maisen was turning a rather vivid shade of purple-red as the huge paw clamped down upon his throat allowed only the slightest trickle of air and blood to move beyond the constriction. Beating upon the solidly muscled arm proved ineffective, he might as well have been hammering feebly on marble, only serving to use up what little oxygen remained in his bloodstream by his struggles. If the good doctor had ever seen a cat play with its prey, he might have understood something of the look in the glittering viridescent eyes as he studied the struggling creature.<br><br>It was not entirely Dr. Maisen's fault. The man had only transferred from another division a few weeks ago, and had not adapted to his situation so well as others. Most of the staff knew better than to mistreat the Prototypes, for, while no value could be placed on human life, each of the youths was worth billions. Besides that, Dr. Hart only had seven fingers and one eye because he had attempted to educate Wicked with the shock-prod a decade ago. One quickly learned that the paragon soldier simply did not take abuse from anyone.<br><br>The man had pissed himself, even if he could not hear the droplets hitting the floor, the rank smell flowed over Wicked like a wave, making him scrunch up his nose. The scent was unpleasant, acrid and sharp, but the fear was exhilarating, he could taste it on the air, in the rank urine and the cold sweat beading on his prey's flesh. The slash mark on his hand had already ceased to seep blood, it was a little scratch left by the metal ruler, nothing at all to one like him, but certainly an excuse. He hadn't liked the doctor, and he knew that there was one cardinal rule, he was a warrior, anyone attacking him was ready for war.<br><br>The remainder of the staff had quietly withdrawn, such episodes weren't rare but no one felt like being maimed because Maisen had acted like a nun from the 1960s. The security guards were similarly quiet, hands on their holstered guns but not yet willing to draw them, realising that they were faced with the dilemma of possibly killing a priceless specimen or, worse, failing to do so before said monster pounced on them. Maisen's nails had scraped faint red lines along the taut pillar of Wicked's arm, but there hardly seemed to be any saving the man, it was only the instinct to watch the prey suffering that kept him alive even then.<br><br>A soft voice flickered across Wicked's mind, soothing and quiet, and he turned to look at the petite young woman that approached. Dr. Franziska was someone he liked, which was why she was permitted to lay a hand on his arm without setting off his defensive reflexes. <strong>"Wicked, I would really prefer if you would let Dr. Maisen down. I am sure that he is very sorry for what he's done. He'd be happy to tell you that if you stopped choking him."</strong> She was terrified, he could tell, but that was something he was used to. They wanted people to be afraid of him, They would have worked hard to teach him to be intimidating if it hadn't come so naturally to him. Despite his instincts, he relented, his fingers gradually unclenching to allow his opponent to slump to the floor.<br><br>Wicked was quite ignorant of the man that crawled hastily away from him, rewarded for his acquiescence by the scratching of light fingers beneath his chin, drawing out a lazy purr from the hulking youth. It was rather easy for Dr. Franziska to lead him away from her colleages, she had him nuzzling into her hand by the time he found himself in the hallway, being summoned elsewhere. Without another thought, he went towards the briefing room, the rest of the incident effectively forgotten.<br><br>He entered the room in silence, moving with the same quietness to take a seat beside Maybelline. Long fingers were entwined on the tabletop, keen eyes fixed upon the human, it was all he could do but to wait to hear what might be said.
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RampantDesires</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 07:50:36</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/05/Shade1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Shade (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8226720#msg8226720)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad/ Infiltration Specialist<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong> Med Lab 7/Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Taking her medicine/Reporting as ordered<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Maybelline, Wicked<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Absolutely<br><br><hr>“Shade? Can you hear me?” Slowly her head turned to face Dr Ellis her frown almost matching his.&nbsp; Could she hear him? He was standing next to her of course she could hear him.&nbsp; Why was he asking stupid questions? Then her gaze flicked up to the slowly ticking clock mounted on the wall across the room.&nbsp; Five and a half minutes. Not a terribly long time to be unconscious, especially when one was being carefully monitored by a series of machines and trained medical staff.&nbsp; She still didn’t care for the whole process.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Slowly her head turned her dry tongue flicking out to run against her even drier lower lip.&nbsp; “Yes.” Her terse response was enough to reassure him because all he did was nod and make another notation on the chart he was holding.&nbsp; Not a man easily ruffled, not surprising really they’d certainly done this often enough.&nbsp; <br><br>“Excellent.&nbsp; Your blood work looks good, the treatment was successful.&nbsp; We will do a follow up panel after your meeting.” Oh right, the briefing room.&nbsp; Shade tried to sit up on the hospital bed only to be brought up short by the restraints which strapped over chest and shoulders.&nbsp; A necessary precaution for her safety as well as theirs, sometimes her reaction to the drug could be rather violent.&nbsp; <br><br>They all received it, carefully calculated does of AMRITA, and for the others it was a simple injection given at routine intervals.&nbsp; Ironic really that a compound designed to keep her healthy and functioning should cause so much trouble, but Shade’s body had never produced nor processed chemicals quite the way it was supposed to.&nbsp; Apparently because her body chemistry was always changing there could be unforseen reactions and because her system occasionally identified the designer drug as a toxin to be attacked or purged the dosing, times, and absorption rate had to be carefully monitored.They weren't sure why her body could not synthesize the drug itself when she had mastered so many others, but with continued research and testing they hoped to find out.&nbsp; It was hard if not impossible to predict the outcome of each injection.&nbsp; Hence the straps.<br><br>“Lay back for a few more minutes to make sure any dizziness or nausea has passed.” A small nod met his words and she lay back on the bed staring quietly at the ceiling.&nbsp; There was no argument at his pronouncement, not even a sullen pout.&nbsp; Shade did not question orders and had no doubt that he had her best interests at heart with the suggestion.&nbsp; Who in the facility was dumb enough to risk the wellbeing of one of the prototypes needlessly?&nbsp; Besides she had a good half an hour until she was scheduled to be in the briefing room.<br><br>Fifty eight tiles, one slightly cracked on the edge. She’d finished slowly counting them for the twenty seventh time when one of the nurses finished removing the monitoring equipment and finally reached out to undo the elaborate strap system. When finally everything was removed she took a deep breath slowly sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.&nbsp; The room swam only slightly around the edges of her vision.&nbsp; Waiting had been a good idea, if she was still feeling the effects even with her increased metabolism and her body’s natural tendency to try to right itself she’d probably have face planted trying to stand just after waking.&nbsp; It hadn’t been this bad in awhile, she should have known there was going to be a difficult one coming.&nbsp; The reactions were by no means cyclical; however Dr. Ellis was becoming much better at predicting the outcome of her injections.&nbsp; Progress.&nbsp; She reminded herself of that fact as she stood and her knees threatened to buckle. <br><br><hr><br>Though she wanted nothing more than to return to her room and sleep off the lingering effects of this most recent AMRITA dosing Shade arrived at the briefing room ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin.&nbsp; Though she had washed her hands and face before leaving the lab her skin still felt a little clammy; a full shower and change of clothing would have made her late though and that was unacceptable.<br><br>The faintest of smiles curved at her mouth as she saw the two already seated at the wide conference table though that disappeared as she nodded to Montgomery moving around to take the chair on the end to the other side of Wicked.&nbsp; Habit would have had her sitting next to Maybelline enjoying the seemingly effortless and genuine affection that the other girl handed out so generously, but today Shade wasn't quite feeling herself.&nbsp; Putting the nearly four hundred pound frame of their male team mate between her and the rest of the world seemed like a good idea. Both legs drew upward against her chest arms wrapping loosely around them allowing her to rest her cheek against her knees her bare toes curling against the edge of the seat.&nbsp; If anyone was going to break the silence it certainly wasn't going to be her. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Branwen</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 22:27:18</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/aaad5c32a1cc5158823b021e3fd7c3f4/tumblr_mmppuna0xf1rlxy60o1_500.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Maybelline (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8210032#msg8210032)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad / Human Interface Specialist <br><strong>Location:[/b Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Touching &amp; Talking<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Wicked, Shade<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br></strong><hr><br>Even with enhanced senses, the first hint Maybelline had of Wicked's presence was when he allowed his arm to brush in the merest hint of a touch across Maybelline's back.&nbsp; A moment later her towering brother of the artificial womb was seated beside Maybelline, settling lightly and quietly into the seat for all his mass.&nbsp; "Wicked!"&nbsp; Maybelline cried happily and her hair mirrored the girl's delight in his presence.&nbsp; Where it had been braided from big, loose coils twined haphazardly around each other, Maybelline's blonde hair unwound and billowed out across her the back of her shoulders and the chair, almost touching the floor it was so long.&nbsp; Just like a plant orienting towards the sun, the mass of her hair shifted, using her head as a swing point, and stroked over and across to fan out on Wicked's broad, muscled back.&nbsp; Still ignoring Montgomery, Maybelline focused all of her attention on the most physically dangerous of all the prototypes.&nbsp; "Oh my gosh, you won't believe what they let me do!"&nbsp; Enthusiasm drove the girl's voice and a desperate need for contact drove both of her hands, one settling on the back of Wicked's neck where it joined her hair in lightly stroking and the other reaching for and finding the bare skin of his wrist, fingers tapping at the pulse point and thumb making pointless little circles.<br><br>"Lipstick!&nbsp; Can you imagine!&nbsp; It tasted like long chain hydrocarbons and coconuts and smelled like, well, I don't know.&nbsp; I've never smelled it before.&nbsp; Dirt a little bit.&nbsp; From the city I think, not the countryside.&nbsp; It had the smell of gasoline and oil and too many people in the dirt and ozone and newsprint.&nbsp; So, yeah, from the city.&nbsp; Later today, when I finish assimilating it, I'll have a new person to look at.&nbsp; I can't wait to see what she looks like.&nbsp; Oh, and I broke a retinal scanner," Maybelline laughed and leaned her head on Wicked's upper arm, his shoulder being too high above her head to rest there.&nbsp; Now her hand moved to his abdomen, trying to find a way inside his clothing to lay skin on skin.&nbsp; "It tastes like bees too," she added then sighed happily.<br><br>Blue eyes watched Shade enter and her hand stopped moving.&nbsp; Shade looked tired, maybe even exhausted and Maybelline hadn't seen the ephemeral smile that she'd worn seconds ago.&nbsp; As she watched the other girl sit and withdraw physically behind the fortress of her legs, Maybelline frowned.&nbsp; Sympathetically her hair snaked off Wicked's back, strands moving quickly and sinuously to form themselves into a tight, scalp hugging bun that padded the back of her head and extended into a thick mass wrapped around the back of Maybelline's neck and upper spine.&nbsp; It pulled in very tightly, giving a hard, polished look as the strands packed together in precise and dense alignment. <br><br>"Shade?" Maybelline called out quietly, so that Montgomery would have to strain to hear.&nbsp; "What did they do to you?"&nbsp; The 'they' was vocalized with an underlying tone of disdain, or even hatred.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>26-05-2013, 18:06:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/f/fb/Tumblr_mn889nVhds1rtiyedo1_500.jpg/447px-Tumblr_mn889nVhds1rtiyedo1_500.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Dr. Malachi O'Rourke (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8287122#msg8287122)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Head Scientist<br><strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Heading to the Mission Briefing<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Wicked, Maybelline, Shade<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br><hr><br>It was a rare thing for an hour to pass without at least one report being submitted to Dr. O'Rourke for review, he had the task of overseeing all the R&amp;D undertaken in the Foundry headquarters, as well as providing oversight for other facilities. He never delegated that responsibility, but took his time in reviewing each and every submission, he had even instigated stricter reporting guidelines after taking the post. Those who worked to his exacting standards were rewarded and those who failed were not spared the slightest iota of his anger and disgust. He had a standing threat to schedule for vivisection anyone caught manipulating experimental data or failing to report their experiments, which, while unverified, did work remarkably well to protect the interests of scientific objectivity in his domain.<br><br>Where he was the most strict was in reviewing the experiments and exercises involving the Prototypes. They were incalculably valuable, utterly unique specimens, his duty was to ensure that they were not unnecessarily damaged or destroyed, yet there was also a paternal feeling towards the young inhumans. Though he was proud of how well they had developed, as his creations and as individuals, considerate, even occasionally affectionate, he had no reservations about pushing them to their limits. He wanted to make them stronger, to help them explore their own potential and rise higher. Yet it was obvious that the experiments were growing more aggressive, less concerned for the welfare of the Prototypes. Project OLYMPIAN was due to begin full production schedules within a year. The advances made in the near two decades since the first batch had been born would allow the Foundry to be far more prodigal with their supersoldiers. The next batch would grow to full physical and mental maturity within three years, personalities and training could be made redundant with cybernetic implants into which information, expertise and behaviour could be programmed. The Foundry was trying to harvest as much data as possible from the Prototypes for the benefit of the next generation.<br><br>He wasn't in the best of moods when he shut down his laptop, making one last scribbled note in his pocket notepad before it was shut and pushed into the pocket of his jeans as he rose. While he did own a labcoat, it was rare that he wore it, and usually he simply left a few spares in his size around the facility. He wore a rumpled blue dress shirt, untucked and with the collar worn open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he hadn't shaved in two days, casting a dark shade of stubble across his face. He looked more like a carpenter than an academic, even at the best of times.<br><br>There were some things to look into, he sent a text message over the internal system to make sure that the others were being released from their current activities for the briefing. A few minor incidents on days reports looked negligible, but he saw the pattern behind that behaviour and knew what was coming. He walked into the Briefing Room as though he owned the place, unselfconscious and utterly at ease, smiling warmly at his young charges on his way past. "Heya. We're just waiting on the rest of the squad and a few others and then we'll get started." The Commander was greeted with a slight nod, the gesture returned, and then Mal took a chair. "It seems like everyone's running tests today."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Subtle Trouble</strong> on <strong>01-06-2013, 13:35:04</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/0hxURMj.jpg?1)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Valkyrie (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8319473#msg8319473)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong>&nbsp; Prototype Marksmanship Specialist<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outdoor Firearms Range/Briefing room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Completing marksmanship exercise/Heading to the Mission Briefing<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Wicked, Maybelline, Shade, Dr. O'Rourke<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>Thud (two...three...four...five...six...seven) Thump. Valkyrie could hear the slow thud of her heart forcing blood through her circulatory system, slowing as she settled into her position. The pose was not entirely comfortable, she was spread two uneven stones, one foot on each, crouching close to the taller rock's side, torso nearly flat against the uppermost surface. Elbows braced against the rock, she waited, as she had before, and most likely would again. Her breathing slowed, becoming shallow enough that her back only rose one millimeter from it's 'deflated' breadth every minute. She waited, watching as polarized light splashed across the mountainside, creeping across the rocks and shadows, ignoring the fantastic array of shades and hues only she could see.<br><br>Approximately after thirty minutes, she sometimes counted whilst she was waiting for her quarry to come into view, she saw a shift, perhaps three-quarters of a mile across the slope. Guard was stiff. <em>I could easily relieve you of that particular hardship</em>. No, the Foundry frowned upon it when she shot things she had not been assigned. Eyes never leaving their focus, the muzzle of her long-ranged rifle never shifting a hairsbreadth, Valkyrie pulled her thoughts back to herself. A small animal, at least one mile away, preferably two. She had been promised a reward in return for completing the task. And penalization if she failed, of course. <br><br>It was how they controlled her. As they'd chemically removed all but the deepest emotions, they could not use them to control her as they did the others. Pride was the most common, she surmised. To be a good soldier. To perform better than required, to outdo themselves and each other. Thankfully, Valkyrie felt no need to compete. She knew her capabilities, They knew them, and they wanted to push every limit they could. If she succeeded, she would be allowed something, perhaps a book, or something new to examine. If she failed, they would deny her a meal cooked for at least relative enjoyment, and provide her with tasteless nutrient substitutes. They would leave her to take it or leave it. She could wait until the next meal. She had once waited two weeks before giving in and choking down the nutrient substitute. From that she had learned that it was easier to eat it, the next meal would be the same fare the others got, or to play to one of the Foundry employees, begging, wheedling, perhaps crying.<br><br>Only the new ones, though. The ones who had never met her before. <br><br>Finally, her quarry came into view. A mile and three-eights away, approximately, a ground squirrel scurried into her field of vision. Instantly, her rifle's barrel, and her eyes focused on the small mammal. It paused on its way to a small shrub, head popping up to scan for danger. Her finger squeezed as she waited for her heart to again beat, her chest to rise and fall, before she added the extra pascal of force on the trigger.<br><br>She tracked the round from the rifle's muzzle all the way to the head, and into the ground behind the now lifeless corpse of the small animal she had been charged with collecting. Its blood, fir, and grey-matter stained the dirt and she paused, studying the beauty of the moment clinically, before with a deep breath, and a blink, she snapped back into her normal metabolic rate. She shifted, placing her foot down on the lower rock and straightening. Her finger clicked the safety in place as she gathered her weapon, and began to stride toward her kill. Her minders would not find it. They rarely could find them. Perhaps an hour had elapsed, it had been quick today. After three strides she began to sprint, feet finding their landings easily on the uneven area. <br><br>She kept her pace moderate, she had learned not to run too far or fast outdoors as well. It had taken three tranquilizers to stop her, and she had not relished their side effects. It took her perhaps five minutes to reach the rodent, , and she grasped it by the scrawny tail, before turning and raising it. They had been watching her, and there would be at least six sights trained on her, six fingers on triggers, six loaded darts ready to perforate her skin. <br><br>It took her seven minutes to reach the entrance, and, reaching the rally point, she felt her face relax into a smile, her eyes widen slightly, and her steps loosen into a light jog instead of the tight run she had previously kept.<br><br>"I got it! Did you SEE that?" She squealed, giggling. The handlers didn't react to her giggles. Instead, one held his hand out for the chipmunk. <br><br>She placed it in his gloved hand, still grinning. "Do I get dessert tonight? Can I have hot cocoa?" She guessed. She did enjoy sweets, especially after she slowed her metabolism. "Ooh! Can I have spaghetti tonight for supper?" Wordlessly, the handlers turned toward a seemingly innocuous gap between two rocks, and closed rank around her. They proceeded into the labyrinth of passage ways, and through the standard security checks.<br><br>"Briefing room B, in ten minutes." It was the minder who had been twitching earlier. <br><br>"Oh, okay!" She grinned, and offered him her rifle. As his hands settled on the firearm, she released, giggling as he nearly dropped the eighty-pound, two-meter long weapon. "Careful!" She cautioned, before turning and beginning to trot away. "Bye!"<br><br>When she reached the briefing room, she was walking briskly, face returned to its' stoic state. She stepped through the door, and slipped into the seat beside Maybelline, briefly meeting the Doctor's eyes before turning to the other prototypes. <br><br>"Have I missed anything?" She asked, voice low enough to make the humans strain, but not low enough to incite accusations of secrecy. Her eyes panned across the other three. She saw the colour stuck against Maybelline's mouth and cheeks. "What did they give you?" The way the light hit the pigments, and how the material clung to the microscopic hairs around her mouth, and between the lines in her lips, it was some sort of viscous colourant, meant to adhere to some surface. Although the most common pigment was not an unpleasant purple, the others within the material ranged from complimentary to contradictory, although she knew the humans would not see how very ugly the colour-range was. Valkyrie assumed it was meant to come in contact with a person's face, as as far as she was aware Maybelline was not in the habit of putting things in her mouth. Logically, she decided it had to be some kind of cosmetic, likely what she, on very few occasions, had seen on the female Foundry employee's lips.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>02-06-2013, 00:28:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/5/51/Wicked.jpg/399px-Wicked.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Wicked (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8209926#msg8209926)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad/ Deathbeast<br><strong>Location:</strong> Test Laboratory Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Waiting<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Anyone<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Anyone<br><br><br><hr><br>There were times when Wicked knew it best to be quiet. He basked in the momentary affection Maybelline shared, enduring her prattering for the sakes of being stroked, though his thoughts were elsewhere. All of the Prototypes were of remarkably high intellect, but the young man was often mistaken for a hulking imbecile. Not that he minded, there was precious little that truly troubled Wicked. His stoicism was no mere affectation, he was utterly without narcissism or self doubt. He had learned to keep himself to himself, even when he was permitted free speach he usually chose not to exercise the privilege. For one thing, most of those with whom he associated were in stark terror of him.<br><br>Even besides his rather remarkable ability to render living, breathing, thinking people into lifeless muck, the young man had many other unnerving traits. None of the technicians and scientists assigned to Wicked had seen him quite the same since he had diagnosed Dr. Vicks with a brain tumour. To humans, with their rather dull olfaction, the notion that one could divine more of the individual human's condition from a mere whiff than a combination of the finest diagnostic technology interpreted by the finest medical minds was rather troubling. Of course, the realisation that one could not lie to the young man who could rip dismember and eviscerate combat soldiers as easily as a man might debone a roast chicken went a long way towards cementing Wicked's reputation as someone best left to his own devices.<br><br>He tasted whiskey on the air, the Laphroaig that Commander Montgomery had received from his son for Christmas still tinted every one of the man's breaths. A long lingering scent, he could tell that the man's bloodstream was purged of the drink, though the fear remained. The man preferred natural soldiers, boys who could be broken down and remade into fighting men. Creatures like Wicked and his brethren weren't natural, they came to warfare as though it was mother's milk. Wicked did what came most naturally, propping his head up on a fearsome fist, fixing his emerald gaze on the Commander.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RampantDesires</strong> on <strong>03-06-2013, 05:43:12</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/05/Shade1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Shade (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8226720#msg8226720)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad/ Infiltration Specialist<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Being social<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> <em>Maybelline</em>, Wicked, Val, Dr.<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Absolutely<br><br><br><hr> <br>The sound of her name caused her head to lift again craning a little to study Maybelline around Wicked’s bulk.&nbsp; Only then did she note the small smears of color around the other woman’s hairline that ghost of a smile returning.&nbsp; “Nothing.&nbsp; <em>They</em> are fixing me.. I guess.” She shrugged slightly uncoiling a little her shoulders straightening back in an effort to reassure her teammate that she was in fact fine.&nbsp; A lie that none of them would accept, but at least she was trying.<br><br>She was saved from having to try and give further explanation by the arrival of others.&nbsp; Dr O’Rourke first.&nbsp; Malachi was perhaps her favorite among Foundry staff.&nbsp; Maybe it was because when he looked at her he actually saw HER and not just a body of data and potential.&nbsp; It wasn't that the doctor was warm or particularly affectionate, but he had absolutely set himself apart from the other scientists. His offhand observation that it was a test laden day earned him an odd almost bemused look.&nbsp; Every day while not on a mission was a test day for the prototypes, he of all people should know that, but it was not worth correcting him over.&nbsp; If the doctor wished to engage in social pleasantries who was she to stop him? <br><br>Val came next and she nodded to the girl.&nbsp; Of all the prototypes they were the closest in size yet Shade found her second only to Wicked in terms of a challenge when it came to sparring.&nbsp; She had ruthlessness even toward her own teammates at times which the others lacked.&nbsp; Only then did the doctor’s words fully register.<br><br>Others? Rest of the group and a few others.&nbsp; These meetings were usually small affairs,&nbsp; just the whole squad being pulled together was fairly rare, that multiple others should be required meant that something large was happening.&nbsp; &nbsp;She knew then why her injection had to be done today.&nbsp; They were going out.&nbsp; Together.&nbsp; Weariness and nausea faded replaced by anticipation. Today was looking up. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Adrianna Paige</strong> on <strong>04-06-2013, 16:55:11</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i-moc.com/wallpaper/2013/02/blondes-women-jeans-avril-lavigne-blue-eyes-long-hair-belts-celebrity-singers-standing-canadian-tight-clothing-1366x768-hd-wallpaper.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Seer (http://link to your profile)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayeden Squad/Reconnaissance Specialist<br><strong>Location:</strong> Sonar testing lab 6/ Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Relating certain sounds to their respective frequencies<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> None<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br>Sonar Test Laboratory 6 was made just for Seer it would seem. Sound proof walls that had layers upon layers of absorbent material used to soak up vibrations. Nanomolecular plates to react and create destructive interference. The white walls were decorated with bar charts and frequency diagrams and sonar read outs of previous frequency recordings that she learned to recognize.&nbsp; <br><br>MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface)diagrams showed the conversion from note to frequency for all octaves 1-10. Descriptions of pitch, intensity, parameters such as volume, vibrato, and panning were sticky noted all throughout the diagram as she had been learning to recognize frequencies and replicate them herself. Through MIDI, Seer got to “see” what musical notes looked like as a way to help her familiarize herself with the relationship between sound and frequency. This was simply a treat for her as a reward for her meeting their demands for the past week. Learning how the radio frequency spectrum is allocated to different users in the United States wasn't so bad on its own but they also wanted her to know the breakdown of wavelengths, for each frequency, at the 1/4th, 1/20th and 1/100th of a whole wavelength. It would seem that they were stressing the point that text book knowledge was just as important as being able to identify sound with the appropriate frequency and then replicating it. <br><br>Another chart had acronyms used in the frequency band designations and it was rather thorough and useful as it had everything from ELF (Extremely Low Frequency),which was 3-30 HZ, to IHF (Insanely High Frequency), which was 300-3000 GHz. She used this chart to understand the ranges in frequency&nbsp; for things such as AM radio, short wave radio, Cbs, and FM radio, cell phones, air traffic control radar, global positioning systems, WiFi, bluetooth, gamma rays, and then her favorite...the microwave oven. That beloved machine had a frequency of 2.45 Ghz..and it was responsible for making the BEST buttered popcorn. Well, when she was allowed to have it of course. Which, sadly, wasn't very often.&nbsp; <br><br>She took a step back and took her time stepping to the side as electric blue eyes skimmed another chart and slowly she smiled, revealing a hint of her white teeth, as she ran the index finger slowly, appreciatively down the glossy covering that protected the chart. Animals. She never had one but she always childishly hoped that she would one day. Her smile slowly faded away and her hand plopped down to her side as she sadly let out a breath. Who was she kidding? She would always be here and it would be the same routine day in and day out. Follow orders. Complete missions in a flawless fashion. Perform well. Pushed to our limits and sometimes beyond them just to see how much we could take. Push. Push. Push. Push. Push! She knew there was more out there to learn and explore simply by what they have been having her study and she wanted all of it. Yet, she would be out of her mind to try and escape from this place. She winced slightly and folded her arms as she could only imagine what sort of punitive consequence she would have to endure for attempting such a feat.<br>&nbsp;<br>Seer shook her head and cleared her mind of such horrible thoughts and focused on the chart in front of her. Species. Each species has their own range, measured in Hz, that they could hear. One of the things that she found interesting was that dogs had slightly greater sound sensitivity than humans and cats had greater sound sensitivity than dogs. She couldn't help but smile because she knew that none of this applied to her, in respect to the humans sound sensitivity, as her range was almost off the charts compared to normal humans and even the others that were on the team. <br>Human hearing was originally thought to be the range of 50Hz-15 Khz and still may be the case depending on age. However, the range, over time, had been expanded to 20Hz -20KHz. Hearing sensitivity in humans is not uniformly sensitive to sound across the frequency spectrum. The most sensitivity is from approximately 300Hz to 5KHz with a particularly sensitive spot between 2-4 Khz. If she wanted to hurt someone all that is needed is an increase in sound intensity at these frequencies for the threshold of pain to be readily reached. The acoustic effects on the body are rather complex. The use of low frequency sound in the region of 50-100 Hz at levels of 150dB or more cause intolerable sensations in the chest and thoracic region even with the ears protected. Mild nausea can be caused at these levels as well. Respiration-related effects including subcostal discomfort, coughing, severs substernal pressure, choking respiration, and hypopharyngeal discomfort could be achieved simply by increasing the intensity of the frequency by a mere 5 decibels. <br><br>Seer slowly smirked at such information as she silently wondered if she would injure herself if she tried to set loose such frequencies and such intensities on those here at Foundry. There were a lot of reasons that kept her from seriously entertaining such thoughts but the primary reason was her “siblings” as she liked to think of them. She honestly didn't know if it would injure them in some form or fashion. A huge part of her thought it wouldn't but she wasn't willing to gamble with their lives. However, if she ever got Dr. Hart alone...she just may have to find out. She owed him one for the stunt with the shock-prod that he pulled on Wicked. Slowly, her brows furrowed just slightly. First things first, she needed to know what these specific frequencies sounded like. Once she was able to relate certain sounds to their appropriate frequency she would be all set. After that, if she wanted to emit 100 Hz at 150dB she could do it all day belong because she would know what that one was. Was she feeling disgusted about such thoughts? It was hard to tell as the source of whatever emotion she was feeling was so faint that she could barely tap into it much less identify it.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;She folded her arms to her body, her slim, petite fingers curving to cup and hold her sides right beneath her breasts. Her blonde hair moved in a slow, smooth motion,with white streaks from the light making some sections seem a shinier gold color, as she turned he head to look at the table behind her. The dark, wooden table was cleaned off save for two machines. One that generated frequencies and one that recorded them. Delicate fingers moved to reach for the equipment but paused over them before swerving to the right to rest upon the clear clip board that had assignments to do today. An index finger slowly going through line after line as her blue eyes read from left to right. There was a post it note and she pulled it off the paper, feeling the glue trying to offer up resistance but being unsuccessful, to read it. Quickly her thin, blonde eyebrows went up. She needed to be in the briefing room in 10 minutes. Quickly she smiled and her mood livened up as she knew she would get to see the others. Nodding slightly she dropped the note on the table and decided to worry about the items on the clipboard another time. Her hand touched the cold, silver steel of the doorknob on the door that led her out of here and quickly she turned it, opened the door and left. Letting the door remain open if it wanted to. No one bothered her stuff in the room anyways. <br><br>She was nowhere near the briefing room when she heard Maybelline talk about lipstick and she smiled at how her younger sister reveled in the experience. Seer shook her head a bit as she was amused by the chipper nature of the girl and it always seemed to rub onto Seer. Anxious to get to them, she flashed a smile and took off running. Her blonde hair swishing and whipping about her as she went. It was nothing to slow down once she got to the doorway and stepped inside, though her hair was wind blown. “So! Lipstick Maybelline? Was it really that awesome? What was the color? Was it vibrant? Rich? Dark? Light? You have to tell me! I bet the color was so rich and looked good on you.” Seer's eyes were fixated on the girl as she approached the table in the briefing room and walked behind them. Her soft fingers made sure to caress the back of Maybelline's neck and shoulders as she walked behind her. It was a simple action. A token of affection, really, but it spoke depths as she knew Maybelline loved the sensations that came with being touched. <br><br>She passed behind Wicked and leaned forward to drape her slender arms over his shoulders, pausing there a moment before she placed a simple kiss on the top of his head before purring low and nuzzling her forehead against his head. Enjoying the feel of his red hair along her skin before letting him go and giving the back of his head a playful push as she made her way to Shade. She sat down beside the girl and looked at her with concern. “I already know that Maybelline asked you if you were alright. I heard it on the way here.” Was all she said as she rested her small hand over top of Shade's. The message in Seer's eyes saying that she was also familiar with how Shade sounds when she's lying. She simply left it at that as her finger brushed along the skin on the back of Shade's hand before releasing it, sitting back in her seat and making herself comfortable.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Branwen</strong> on <strong>05-06-2013, 04:21:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/aaad5c32a1cc5158823b021e3fd7c3f4/tumblr_mmppuna0xf1rlxy60o1_500.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Maybelline (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8210032#msg8210032)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad / Human Interface Specialist <br><strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Showing Off<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Purt near everyone.<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br><hr><br>"Lipstick!" Maybelline announced with a squeal that wouldn't have been out of place in a cheerleader movie.&nbsp; "Isn't it the neatest thing?"&nbsp; Knowing Valkyrie's phenomenally enhanced eyes could clearly see it from where she was, Maybelline didn't bother coming closer or wonder how she managed to pick it out in the briefing room.&nbsp; "It's operational designation is Violet Frenzy.&nbsp; I don't know if it's a combat-specific shade or perhaps a psychotropic?&nbsp; I didn't feel purpler for wearing it and haven't noticed any abnormal psychological manifestations," the girl added.&nbsp; In response to the lowered tension, her hair uncoiled and hung straight down like a plumb bob.<br><br>Shade's response drew it back into motion.&nbsp; Like a cat's tail it bunched together and swished back and forth, showing Maybelline's agitation at how Shade had been treated.&nbsp; Just as Wicked was doing, she fixed her eyes on Montgomery though Maybelline couldn't match his predatory, inhuman calm.&nbsp; "Maybe if they'd stop breaking you they wouldn't need to fix you.&nbsp; Someday, someone's going to break one of them," she declared.&nbsp; <br><br>The moment was spoiled when Seer came in and her touch on the back of Maybelline's neck made Maybelline arch her head back, trying to capture Seer's hand and prolong the contact.&nbsp; She shivered, hair rippling from scalp to end like an ocean wave, and Seer's simple caress drew the anger out of Maybelline's muscles.&nbsp; "I'll tell you later," Maybelline promised.&nbsp; "When we're not being peered at and poked at and something else that starts with a p-ed at."&nbsp; <br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RampantDesires</strong> on <strong>05-06-2013, 06:38:13</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/05/Shade1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Shade (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8226720#msg8226720)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad/ Infiltration Specialist<br>&nbsp;<strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Being social<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> The Crew<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Why the hell not?<br><br><br><hr> <br>“Prodded.” The word broke from her abruptly the slight widening of her eyes indicating that she had startled even herself.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her hand turned her fingers lacing through Seer’s lightly and squeezing a sign that she appreciated the reassuring gesture before allowing the other girl to move into the chair next to hers. <br><br>“Or punctured. Pierced. They are fond of those two.” That brought a frown; she was becoming increasingly tired of not merely injections but the routine drawing of blood. Hardly a day went by that she did not donate to their stores often multiple times.&nbsp; &nbsp;No wonder she felt crappy, being quite literally drained was hard on anyone.<br><br>“Palpitated?” That one might have been stretching things a bit.&nbsp; Kind of went along with prodding, but still applicable.&nbsp; Cassandra could do much better in the generation of P terminology. It was that musing which made Shade realize just how out of character her own behavior was and she cleared her throat lightly raking short dark hair out of her face something suspiciously close to a blush highlighting her tanned skin for a moment. Since when had she indulged in games of alliteration or volunteered more information than was absolutely necessary?<br><br>Amber eyes shifted back toward Dr. O’Rourke hoping that he would fill the silence after what was for her an uncustomary outburst. Perhaps it was just her excitement at being around her labmates again, but she had the sinking suspicion that there was something more to it than that.&nbsp; Shade had never been allowed to drink, and yet this must be something like what being drunk felt like.&nbsp; She did not especially care for it. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RedEve</strong> on <strong>07-06-2013, 18:35:29</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://[url=http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/07/Cassandra.jpg]http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/07/Cassandra.jpg[/url])</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Cassandra (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8213761#msg8213761)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Prototype<br><strong>Location:</strong> Applied Tactical Simulations – Room 001<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> <br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> None<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Yes please<br><br><br><hr> <br>Cassandra alternated between glances at the old book in her left hand and the tactical map with many different neon colors in front of her. It was hard to determine if either of the two sights held more fascination for her, as she gave each an equal amount of attention. The book was a crimson-colored 1st edition of <strong>“The Sign of the Four”</strong>. Each glance she took at the page was preceded by an off-hand flipping of the page. Each glance she took at the tactical map was followed by a dull-toned command. <strong>“Move unit Alpha-13 to grid A-15. Take position in the abandoned structure and scan for enemy activity to the north-west.” </strong>Her eyes went back to the book, as she took in two whole pages of data in one quick glance. <br><br>A pair of observers in white coats were overlooking the action from their higher vantage point. Windows high up in the training room gave them a close view of the action below, as well as the monitors in front of them. <strong>“I think we might have her this time… She’s badly overstretched her troops, the computer estimates that a concentrated assault in the center of her line has an 81% chance of success.” </strong>The older of the two men frowned briefly as if he was considering the right choice to make and then simply nodded.<strong> “Do it, let’s see how she responds. She’s been at it for eight straight hours, perhaps we have found a new efficiency-threshold?”</strong> The younger of the two men pushed his glasses higher up on his nose and entered a short command in the panel in front of him.<br><br>Below the computer carried out it’s suggested tactic. A large group of the virtual soldiers – or rather their representation on the tactical map – moved towards the center of Cassandra’s defensive line. The red enemies breached her flimsy line of the defense in the center and spread out behind her lines in an outward pattern. If the move was supposed to surprise her, it did not register in her behavior nor in her heart rate, which was being closely monitored. Her gaze even lingered for a bit longer on the book before returning to the tactical map.<strong> “Move units Alpha 7, 12, 17 and 19 to grid B-7. Have unit Alpha 7 deploy artillery on grid E-5. Units Alpha 12 and 17 are to put surprising fire on any enemy units that enter grids E-6 through F-9.” </strong>The computer carried out her commands and then processed the encounter in its matrix. The orders Cassandra made drove a wig in between the invading force that had just breached her defensive, effectively cutting them in half. One half was driven towards the North-East, where she had deployed two units to pick off the fleeing troops. The other half moved towards the building she had ordered unit Alpha-13 into. The icon for gun fire erupted all over the digital map, as well as the statistic for decimated units. <br><br><strong>“The little wench tricked us!” </strong>The younger man’s voice was more excited than annoyed, but the older man’s frown was neither. <strong>“Yes… It would appear so. Find out why exactly the computer didn’t pick up on that one.”</strong> Cassandra’s eyes were back with her book, before turning her gaze upwards to the two observers. <strong>“This match is over… I suggest you review the computers tactical matrix, I have been exploiting the same tactical flaw all day long. You programmed it with too much of an emphasis for doubling up on defensive weaknesses.” </strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>09-06-2013, 22:59:50</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1324.photobucket.com/albums/u608/Voikala/montgomery_zps64f81e8b.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Commander Montgomery (http://link to your profile)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Military Training, Zhayedan Squad<br><strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Briefing the squad<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Everyone<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Everyone<br><br><br><hr><br>There surely must have been a very place in Soldier's Heaven for the man who had trained in the Commander, he was so straight and level in his posture that he would have put a pillar to shame, gnarled hands clasped together over the small of his back, dark eyes sweeping the room without his head tipping so much as a millimetre. A soft hum sounded the awakening of the projector, and he took two brisk steps to the left, turning to level the tiny plastic pointer at the screen. The projector, like so many of the devices in the facility, was designed with O'Rourke's haemonculi in mind. He had learned, early on, that most movies simply looked like slideshows to them.<br><br><div align="center">(http://i1324.photobucket.com/albums/u608/Voikala/StrikePoint_zps45e4a387.jpg)</div><br>The screen flickered into life, showing an image in such exquisite detail as his old eyes might never fully see, but he could enjoy the view, at least. No hint of wistfulness escaped his stoic mask, even as he imagined roaming those lush mountain forests. His voice rolled out in a rumbling Appalachian drawl, a touch softened by the world but still strong. "This is your drop zone. The enemy has heavy AA emplacements in the area, so we're goin' with a HALO jump." There was no need for names, of people or places, the coordinates were all that the Squad needed to know. It was damn near impossible to conceal anything from the young soldiers, but it was remarkably easier to simply gloss over such information as though it was unimportant. "Expect some slight scatter, it'll be a drop at speed and meteorology tells us to be expectin' high winds."<br><br>Another click, and another image appeared. "Once you've regrouped, you'll have to make your way down the mountain southeast. All goin' well, you won't be noticed. Primary objective is to infiltrate Compound A." He pointed to the tangled ribbon of buildings nestled at the foot of the mountain. "All enemy scientific and technical personnel are to be liquidised. Any enemy may be considered a justified target, but priority remains on the core research staff. Any specimens discovered are to be called in for further instructions." He pursed his lips for a moment, reaching up to scratch his jaw. "There's no overkill on this one. We want this entire compound razed to the ground before you break for exfiltration to the west. We have an operative on the ground who will provide extraction via air."<br><br><div align="center">(http://i1324.photobucket.com/albums/u608/Voikala/Thaethan-airfield-2012-9-21_zpse10e0b4c.jpg)</div><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Branwen</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 00:04:50</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/aaad5c32a1cc5158823b021e3fd7c3f4/tumblr_mmppuna0xf1rlxy60o1_500.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Maybelline (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8210032#msg8210032)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad / Human Interface Specialist <br><strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Asking Questions<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Commander Montgomery, Wicked<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br><hr><br>"I wish Cassandra was here.&nbsp; She'd be able to tell us just how many times she's had a needle put in her, and extrapolate how many we've had.&nbsp; Be interesting to see if the humans," she looked right at Montgomery, "could handle even a tenth as many sticky owie hurty needles.&nbsp; Real interesting, huh Wicked?"&nbsp; Maybelline stood abruptly, moving behind the lean but still gigantic form of her brother, and rested her hands on his shoulders.&nbsp; Just the fingertips curled over the top of the massive muscles beneath, leaving Wicked free to move if he wanted to.&nbsp; Smiling as sweetly as a teenager who'd just been given a Kewpie doll her boyfriend won at the county fair, Maybelline locked her eyes with the old soldier.&nbsp; The edges of her index fingers stroked the side of Wicked's neck where Maybelline knew he liked it. <br><br>"What is the alternative extraction method and contact when the air route gets shut down?" Maybelline asked.&nbsp; "Just because there's a big runway there doesn't mean it's going to be useable and helicopters or VTOL are too slow to get us far enough away before a response team shows up."&nbsp; Pretty, young, naive but Maybelline had been trained enough and on plenty of operations to know some of the more obvious questions to ask.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Adrianna Paige</strong> on <strong>13-06-2013, 05:43:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://img.myconfinedspace.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/avril-lavigne-low-rise-jeans.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Seer (http://link to your profile)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayeden Squad/Reconnaissance Specialist&nbsp; <br><strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Asking Questions<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Commander Montgomery<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br>Seer turned to look at Maybeline for a moment as she thought about what Commander Montgomery was saying. She couldn't help but laugh at her sister before looking at her. “Of course they couldn't.” Her electric blue eyes turned colder, as her head turned to look at the Commander, and settled on him. Surely he would feel the&nbsp; icy chill of them as she spoke. “They are obsolete in so many ways.” Slowly she smiled but quickly it went away as she watched Maybeline move behind Wicked. Her head remained facing the Commander but her eyes looked to Maybeline and slowly she arched an eyebrow as if wondering if she were fine. <br><br>Seer cleared her throat before sitting up in her chair. Her elbows were propped on the table as she thought about the specimens that were supposed to be a priority. Slowly she stood, as she grew tired of sitting, and walked over to the projection screen to take a closer look at the images. She placed one hand in her back pocket and skimmed her fingers over the image they were looking at. She didn't even look at the Commander as she spoke to him. Something in the image caught her eye but instead of mentioning what it was she instead asked her own questions. “What about the surrounding terrain? What conditions are we dealing with?” At this point she turned to look at the Commander, her expression focused and attentive. “These research specimens.” Her eyes slightly narrowed at him as she tilted her head just a tad to the side. “Surely you have an idea of what would be down there or you wouldn't make these specimens the priority of the mission. Will we have the appropriate tools for containment for these specimens?.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 00:45:35</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/5/51/Wicked.jpg/399px-Wicked.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Wicked (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8209926#msg8209926)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong> Zhayedan Squad/ Deathbeast<br><strong>Location:</strong> Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Thinking<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> May<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> Anyone<br><br><br><hr><br>For Wicked it was all rather simple. There were logistics questions, of course, but the girls were asking about those, just as he knew they would. It was not that he was a thoughtless follower, it was simply that he preferred to keep his thoughts to himself unless he saw a reason to voice them. Pragmatism suited him well, and, though he was no fool, his intellect ran more towards the guile and cunning that made for an effective predator. He had been on many missions since he was old enough to go into the field, he even knew that it was entirely possible that he might die in the course of such a mission, though that didn't trouble him. He was a fatalist of sorts, though he didn't believe in things like God or destiny, he was an artificial creature, a made thing, he knew precisely where he had come from and what his purpose was. Such assurances allowed for a rather serene outlook, at least given as far as such a word could be applied to someone named Wicked.<br><br>He didn't feel threatened by the motion behind him, he trusted his sisters, after all, others who attempted to creep up on him were given a warning growl. The low, steady rumble of his purr was involuntary but not unwelcome, his eyes heavy lidded but still focused on the map, scanning slowly to commit the scene to memory. Forested terrain boded well for them, more cover, plenty of opportunities to make use of inhuman agility. Jumping out of a plane hardly troubled him, he'd survived two jumps without even the benefit of a parachute, once from a plane that was on fire and plunging towards the sea.<br><br>Turning his head just enough to peer back at May out the corner of one eye, he gave a slight shrug. "I don't mind the needles. At least they're quiet." As with most things, they'd made sure early on that he was a stoic. Cold, thirst, starvation, sleeplessness, they'd put him through plenty of torture as a child to make sure he would endure it as a soldier. He put up with the tests primarily because he was terrified of the notion of being found defective or obsolete. The girls had brains and gifts, he had little doubt, though he never voiced the suspicion, that the Foundry would put him down if he ceased to possess his physical advantage over others.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Subtle Trouble</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 18:44:11</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/0hxURMj.jpg?1)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Valkyrie (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8319473#msg8319473)<br><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong>&nbsp; Prototype Marksmanship Specialist<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outdoor Firearms Range/Briefing room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Interacting with other prototypes, absorbing the Briefing.<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Wicked, Maybelline, Shade, Seer, Commander Montgomery<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><hr><br>Valkyrie nodded back to Shade, eyes scanning over her for the physical signs of distress she could pick out. She was more than a little 'green around the gills', though it wasn't much green she saw. Pale, with signs of recent shock. But Valkyrie could detect no signs of lasting damage or weakness superficially, spare a slight unfocusing of her eyes and a sway in her posture so minuscule she doubted Shade even noticed it, and Wicked would likely smell anything she couldn't detect. Her penchant for noting illness was nowhere near as acute as his, but she could identify when a staff member was getting, or had been ill simply from the pigmentation of their skin. Any bruise, blush, pale, flush or infinitesimal degree of perspiration she saw, and used it to extrapolate if a person was getting, was, or was recovering from an illness.<br><br>"It certainly is eye-catching." Valkyrie knew that Maybelline thrived on cosmetics, clothing, any sort of colourful frippery she was allowed. They were her rewards and fascinations. Seeing the hurt look that sometimes crossed her face if Val did not reply in a neutral to complimentary manner was a negative reaction. She had learned to avoid almost all negative reactions from her 'siblings'. They needed to be a unit above all. And causing negativity to an individual could (and sometimes had) resulted in lack of cohesion, and once a brawl. Her eyes shot to Wicked. It hadn't been sparring that day. He'd won, though not easily. And she had learned from it. She respected Wicked, and she shared in his reluctance to offer opinions. Unless she could garner some positive results, she often kept her mouth shut. She'd once heard one staff member mutter "Better to remain silent and be assumed a fool, than to open one's mouth and prove it". She'd decided the sentiment had been valid, and changed her behavioral patterns accordingly. <br><br>As Seer entered, Valkyrie flicked her eyes from Wicked. Seer, on the other hand, always seemed to know the best things to say. Rarely had she seen Maybelline's lips turn down after Seer had commented on a new reward for her, even if it was truly horrendous. Perhaps Seer couldn't see as much of Val's colour-spectrum, but she must not have missed the one time May had returned with a blue pigment across her eyelids that contained brown shading and a disgusting colour between olive green and mauve that had made her eyes look small and washed out. When Val had mentioned it, Maybelline had looked hurt. She'd said it was supposed to be 'Golden ocean' or some sort of operational designation. She had apologized, she learned that trick early, but it had taken some time for the incident to fade. She watched Seer make contact with Wicked and Maybelline, and felt a tightening in-between her shoulder blades. Unlike her siblings, Val kept physical contact to an absolute minimum. It left too many opportunities for a person to get inside your guard. That had been an early lesson, and a hard one. Most casual touches were met with deflections. She tolerated it from the other prototypes, but never initiated. Once she had thrown a new doctor across a room for patting her where the muscles itched on her back. A fraction of her attention was all she required to relax those muscles as she nodded a greeting to Seer as she settled. <br><br>"Perforated, in Shade's case." Val offered to the pool of p-based alliteration, softly pitched enough for her siblings to hear, eyes returning to the door. She knew full well what happened when she engaged in 'Rebellious sentiments'. The others would have some privileges revoked if they were not careful. Her punishment would likely be isolation from the prototypes. It had happened before. <br><br>As the commander entered, and made his briefing, her eyes scanned the projection, memorizing between the flickers of the light-bulb used to project the image onto the screen. She remained silent. She did not like asking questions, or even engaging with, the Foundry staff members. Especially the ones that knew better than to believe her 'cute little girl act', as she'd heard it described. Only of a question the others didn't bring up occurred to her would she speak up. It rarely happened. <br><br>Valkyrie's eyes flicked to Wicked as he added his opinion. "It's not the needles, I think," She replied. "The negative results of the needles are the problem. I do not enjoy feeling weakened after a new injection. And Shade's reactions are always harder. Sometimes the consequences of the injections far outweigh any benefit they seem to have."&nbsp; Her voice was neutral, still pitched low. It was not as though they were not paying attention, but occasionally there were more than one thought-train working through the group. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: More Human Than Human [The Foundry, Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Coyote</strong> on <strong>18-06-2013, 21:14:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://[url=http://i.imgur.com/0RqZCHU.jpg]http://i.imgur.com/0RqZCHU.jpg[/url])</div><br><strong>Name:</strong>Dr. Alexander “Xander” Crawford (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8375682#msg8375682)<br><strong>Occupation/Status: Foundry Neurologist</strong> <br><strong>Location:</strong> Medical Bay/Briefing Room<br><strong>Action Summary:</strong> Treating Wire, Informing the Squad<br><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong> Wicked, Shade, Maybelline, Seer, Valkyrie, Commander Montgomery, Dr. O’Rourke<br><strong> Open to Others?:</strong> All<br><br><hr><br>“Dr. Crawford, are you sure you know what you’re doing? There are so many ways that the subject could respond to this treatment.” Xander turned to give his assistant nurse the most confident smile he could muster. He could understand her skepticism, and she had every right to ask that question.&nbsp; Because in the moment, Dr. Alexander Crawford had very little idea of what he was doing, and if his desperate gambit could be a success. Perhaps he should run through it all one more time. He looked back down at the patient on his table, a young girl with aubern hair and the palest skin he had ever seen. The way her eyes lolled back into her head, and her mouth hung open limply, sent shivers down Xander’s spine. He could blame the Foundry all he wanted, but ultimately he could never shake his responsibility for what had been done to her, for what had been done to all of them. He shook his head, as if to physically shake off those thoughts, and nervously adjusted his spectacles.<br><br>“First of all, remember what I told you, Alice” he said, speaking to his assistant in his typical British school master tone “We don’t refer to them as merely “subjects”, not when they are here before us. We refer to them by name. I know subject or patient is more convenient. But here I’ve decided to reverse the medical practice. We at the Foundry spend enough time dehumanizing them, it should be the times when we have to make harsh decisions that we at least acknowledge that they are individual people, just like any of us.”<br><br>Xander saw Alice roll her eyes at his moralizing, she had heard it a dozen times already and Xander was sure she must be getting sick of him by now. But she was also a consummate professional and rolled onwards with ease. “Ok then, there are so many ways that Wire could respond to the treatment, don’t you think the stability we’ve managed is good enough for now?” Xander looked back down at Wire glumly. Perhaps Alice was right. After all, it was meddling that had landed poor Wire in this situation as it was. Some bastard in Research and Development had conceived the brilliant idea to have Wire attempt to absorb the electromagnetic frequencies of a computer which was reading her own brain scans. The man had known that when she scanned the computer, it would cause a change in the EM frequencies of her brain, which would in turn change the frequencies displayed by the computer, which would force her Sach’s Lobe to readjust with new information, which would cause the scan to again readjust, onwards to infinity. Off course this would just trap the brain in an infinite feedback look, which was exactly what the scientist wanted, he thought it would be a shortcut to some kind of infinite power source.&nbsp; When the idiotic scientist had finally realized that was not going to happen, after a good hour and a half, he had attempted to wrench her away from the machine, causing an electric shock which has left him hospitalized and Wire utterly comatose. What was worse was, that the scientist had totally lied to her about the nature of the experiment and she had failed to catch the lie in time, otherwise she would have known it was a stupid idea.<br><br>“The problem with having a brain that is receptive is that it can become impossible to shut off, Wire is still caught in her little loop, her brain is constantly trying to scan and readjust to stimuli that might not even be there anymore.&nbsp; The Faraday drug is the only way I know how to stop it, but only if we can find a way to safely get it into her system again. I agree that the last couple of attempts backfired, but I think we have the mix correct his time. No, I don’t totally know what I’m doing, and yes it might be a mistake, but the alternative is letting her become a vegetable for the rest of her life, and I’m not satisfied with that. So if you have not further questions, Alice, please administer the drug cocktail as per my instructions”<br><br>Alice shrugged and threw her hands in the air, “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you Dr. Crawford.” She set about her work diligently, just as Xander knew she would. He took one more sad look at Wire. He checked his watch, and realized that a mission briefing had already started, he would have to head down and let them know that Wire would not be recovered in time to take part. “You handle the first part from here Alice, page me if there are any complications, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”&nbsp; He noticed her roll her eyes again, this time probably at his insistence on using old fashioned pagers for communication. They were harder to hack and had fewer distractions than a modern day cell phone, but Xander was not in the mood for arguing his point at the moment. He paused a moment before leaving, he leaned in towards Wire and whispered “If you can hear me, we’re doing the best that we can to help you. Everything is going to be ok.” Slightly embarrassed by that show of sentimentality in front of his staff, he jerked up and headed off towards the briefing room.<br><br>That poor young woman, what had been done to her was unacceptable. Anyone with an ounce of care and respect would never have attempted an experiment like that. Off course Xander knew that there were others who felt guilty about the treatment of the Prototypes, but every time he spoke to them on the matter they seemed to chalk it up to “the cost of doing business.” The fact that they could use such a banal phrase to justify moral atrocity made Xander’s stomach churn. Perhaps he should tender his resignation immediately. But then who would be left to treat Wire, or whatever other problems came up?<br><br>He sighed, no easy answer was coming to him. Before he arrived at the briefing room, he paused to readjust his lab coat, sweater vest, and tie, as well as smooth out his rumpled hair. He had spent the last couple of days sleeping in the lab, too much work to do and Wire’s condition was to serious. He suddenly realized that he had not had a shower in a few days either, these things never seem to be so important until the prospect of social interaction reared its ugly head. With a great degree of awkwardness and apprehension, he knocked twice on the briefing room door, and shouted “Dr. Alexander Crawford here with an important update on Wire’s condition!” Normally he was allowed in during briefing, but there were a couple of times he had almost stumbled onto something above even his clearance, so he made it a policy to knock first. When there was no response, he shouted again “OK then, um, I’m coming in now…”<br><br>Inside he found Commander Montgomery and Dr. O’Rourke, and five of the Prototypes. Xander gave them all a warm smile. He turned to talk to the Prototypes directly, technically he should have gone straight to Dr. O’Rourke with the news but he felt he owed it to them and Xander was not feeling much for protocol at the moment. “Wicked, Shade, Maybelline, Seer, Valkyrie,” He gave them each a polite nod. He had worked with them all before and considered them friends, which was making the next part very difficult. Normally he would want to talk to them individually, but they were pressed for time as it was. “I’m afraid, well, I have some very bad news, for everyone” Xander glanced at Dr. O’Rourke and the Commander as well, he started to fidget nervously as he realized all eyes were on him “You may or may not have been informed already, a few days ago Wire was, well I suppose the best word would be damaged by the last experiment which was performed on her, and it has left her in a comatose state. I’ve recently learned the problem might be deeper than I first expected. I think I can fix her with time, but it will require effort and risk, and she will not be participating in missions in the immediate future. I’m very very sorry, I want to apologize to the five of you personally,” He said nodding to the Prototypes “I am trying the best that I can, I’ll give this every effort I can give it, please believe me.” He looked to their faces wondering how they would react. He turned to lock eyes with Dr. O’Rourke, trying with his expression to show his disapproval and disappointment with what happened. How much longer could he go on like this?<br>
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