Man and Machine (Relius & Divine Tenacity)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Relius on 30-10-2014, 06:06:37</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Man and Machine (Relius &amp; Divine Tenacity)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Relius</strong> on <strong>30-10-2014, 06:06:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"We need you, John"<br><br>Those four words. How many times had he heard them now, repeated over and over in that calm, sympathetic voice that continued to hide the gravity of the situation. Some might enjoy those words. Knowing that you had a purpose, that you were <em>needed</em>, it gave a sense of clarity to understand where you fit into the game of life. But what about when those words were stained with blood, when your place in the world meant crawling through the muck and killing. Did you live your life and accept your place, use those gifts that millions of years of evolution had implanted inside or resist, grit your teeth and say 'That's not me'. Was standing by your ideals worth the pain of being out of place, or was it better to go with the flow and shut out everything that made you human?<br><br>"John, open your eyes. Let's talk"<br><br>Captain Johnathon Hunt, the worlds only Paladin Soldier, slowly opened his eyes. They were once a deep, rich brown, now silver and lined with a glimmering blue ring. Tanned skin was now a shade lighter and his dark hair was now streaked with snow white lines. Side effects of the augmentation process that had turned him from a normal solider, to a god on the battlefield. Well, maybe normal wasn't the right word for what he had been. Before the scientists at New Century had picked him up, he'd already been awarded a few times for his bravery on the battlefield, fighting in that damned war that no one wanted anymore. Strapped to what appeared to be an operating room table with only a pair of light blue scrubs covering his legs, John looked back and forth between the man and woman standing on either side of him.<br><br>Samuel Barker was the man responsible for the Paladin Project, the man who had turned John into the man he now was. A bald, dark skinned man with watery blue eyes, he was a genius in more scientific fields than John knew existed, his lab coat looking to be a size too big for the man's slender frame. Beside him stood Karen Wreath, the military liaison who oversaw the military's involvement in Project Paladin. Blonde hair and green eyes set a striking figure that turned heads wherever she went, along with a trail of broken hearts and busted balls, the woman was known for her hardline attitude and ability to kick anyone's ass. It wasn't her voice that had awakened John, calm and sympathetic being emotions that Karen left behind when she took it upon herself to win the war.<br><br>"Hello Doctor Barker. I don't suppose the war has ended yet?" It had been fifty years ago when the bombs first started to fall, an act of aggression over a need for greater independence. The people of New Century were sick of being apart of an Empire that took more than it gave, igniting the spark that had other colonial nations suddenly pushing back, with war erupting across the continent. Even with a war on five fronts, the central hub of the Empire continued to hold in a bloody stalemate that had gone on for five years, captured ground pushed back only to be captured again. John had joined the war effort for the employment opportunity, not knowing the path it would lead him down.<br><br>He'd spent two years on the frontline before being whisked off to Project Paladin after being informed he was a perfect match for the augmentation process, both physically and genetically. The plan was to create super soldiers, their bodies infused with technology to become faster, stronger, smarter. A whole squadron of them, and John was one of five selected to be apart of the process. They'd taken him back to New Century, to secret labs beneath the grand city and put him under.<br><br>When he awoke, John was told he was the only one. The rest were 'failures'.<br><br>It took some time getting used to his new body and everything he could do. Faster, smarter and stronger was just the beginning, his brain often feeling like it was running faster than even he could keep up with. Breathing and food were barely needed anymore, he could see in the darkness and sleeping was little more than flicking a switch to shut his body down. His five senses had become hyper aware, every touch and every sound threatened to overwhelm him, but he kept on training, focused on the lives that would be saved once he entered the field. When asked about bringing others on to replace the four, John was simply told that he would be enough. They were hiding something, but John wasn't worried about that. His first mission was about to begin, a mission that would serve as an inspiration to push the soldiers forward.<br><br>And it all ended in blood. <br><br>Military intelligence had fucked up. It wasn't a single squadron holding the border town, but two full battalions of reinforced imperial troops. There was nothing John could do as he watched the men that followed him get torn to pieces by the barrage of gunfire and artillery, a roar of anger escaping through his mouthpiece just as the battle appeared to be over.<br><br>When he finally snapped out of it, John was in the middle of the town, with nothing left. Dead imperials surrounded him, his armor drenched in blood and the unmistakable sense that he was responsible for everything that had happened. When the chopper finally arrived, he was numb to the congratulations that followed. Further mission orders were ignored as the scientists did their best to figure out the swings in John's emotional state while Karen did her best to threaten him with everything under the sun if he didn't get back out and fight. John still refused, the images of the slaughter fresh in his mind. <br><br>The scientists were told to do something, to program orders or take control, but in order to keep the implants working, they couldn't do anything that might risk shutting John down completely. He was too valuable. <br><br>Apparently they had something new in mind.<br><br>"Hello John. I'm happy to announce we've found a possible solution to your issues, something to help you out with everything you're currently dealing with...a companion"<br><br>Well that was unexpected. <br><br>"It's an artificial intelligence of sorts. True AI is illegal, as you know, but this program is just something to help you out a bit, give you someone to talk to, be a guide through the harshness. An imperfect solution I know but..." Barker shrugged as a pair of lab techs entered the room, the operation clearly going to progress whether John approved or not "Forgive me for saying so Doc, but I'm not sure how some talking computer is going to convince me of anything. I appreciate what you're trying to do, I do but as I am now, I can't trust myself not to slaughter my own troops if I was to blackout like that again"<br><br>Barker nodded in understanding, but John doubted he really did understand. A soldiers life was about killing, yes, but slaughtering two whole battalions was a little much to handle. <br><br>"Just give this a chance John. I think you'll be surprised with what we've come up with"<br><br>Anything else the scientist might have said faded from view as one of the techs made an injection in John's arm, his mind going hazy as the drug dulled his senses and found himself falling into a dark, dreamless slumber.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Man and Machine (Relius &amp; Divine Tenacity)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Divine Tenacity</strong> on <strong>03-11-2014, 18:19:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"We need you, John..."</em><br><br><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>///Initializing...</em><br><br>...<br><br>...</span><br><br><em>"John, open your eyes. Let's talk..."</em><br><br>Out of the darkness, came a scream.<br><br>A scream was not the proper way to define how it came to existence, but when it did, it was given a memory of a babe, torn from a woman's womb to greet the world. Its first <em>look</em> was of steel walls and sterile surfaces, it was aware of thick straps <em>shackling</em> it to a <em>cold</em> table. <br><br><em>"Hello Doctor Barker. I don't suppose the war has ended yet?"</em> <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>Doctor Samuel Barker: Bald. Blue Eyes. 5 feet 11 inches. 168 pounds. Scientist at New Century. Creator of Paladin Project.</em></span>&nbsp; <br><br><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>I... I am here because of Doctor Samuel Barker. He is MY Creator</em>.</span> <br><br>What was this? It could not process the stream of information that rushed through its circuits. It <em>hurt</em>, though it felt no <em>pain</em>. Though its <em>eyes</em> did it <em>see</em> who had caused this <em>madness</em>, this <em>pain</em>. One fought through it all, rising through the ranks because of <em>his</em> battlefield prowess, being recommended then selected for the Paladin Project. The sleep that accompanied the process that made <em>him</em> more than <em>human.</em> The immense satisfaction of being told that <em>he</em> was the only <em>one</em> to <em>survive</em> the surgery of <em>his humanity</em>.<br><br>It was assaulted by memories next, of times past. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>This...</em></span> <em>War</em> raged on, as <em>war</em> was wont to do. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>Not ME...</em></span> <em>He</em> was at <em>his prime,</em> enjoying the newly granted movements that <em>his augmentation</em> afforded him. Little sleep, little need for a meal, the way <em>he moved</em>, a dreaded tempest of death in the wake of <em>his enemies</em>. The force of <em>strength</em> showed in each mechanized <em>muscle</em>. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>WHO? Not ME, but WHO?</em></span> The <em>awareness</em> felt in every touch, every <em>sound</em>, the very <em>air he</em> still <em>breathed</em>, acute in <em>his nostrils</em>. Overwhelming, <em>he</em> soon began to <em>spiral</em> down the deep pit of <em>insanity</em>.<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>HE is going to go MAD. I must HELP HIM.</em></span><br><br>It could not help him. It was forced to watch him come to the brink and pushed from the edge. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>HIS MEN, shot down like ANIMALS...</em></span> It watched on, a helpless <em>observer</em> as he <em>slaughtered</em> blindly, bathing <em>himself</em> in bright red <em>blood</em>, a stark matte-stained contrast to <em>his</em> shiny armor. There was <em>celebration</em> to be had after; officers, men and woman of high rank, shaking his hands <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>Wrong. This FEELS wrong...</em></span> It was overwhelmed with his feelings, his thoughts at becoming the slayer of dozens of men. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>HE is DEATH. All FALL in his steps...</em></span> the spiraling descent into madness, the end to his <em>humanity</em>, or what was <em>left</em> of it. <br><br><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>I will not permit this. The MADNESS must end. No more SUFFERING.</em></span><br><br>Its Creator and his companion assured <em>them</em> everything would be okay, now that <em>it</em> was integrated into <em>him</em>. This was the best solution some of the most brilliant minds in the universe could come up with. It saw no <em>flaw</em> in their reasoning. It was sound, it gave <em>purpose, priority</em>. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">'I will CARRY out my PROTOCOL with optimal EFFICIENCY.'</span><br><br>It paused. Did it just <em>speak?</em> It could not <em>think</em>, it was starting to feel <em>sluggish</em>. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>200cc's of RENAMAZOL. A serum that induces forced rest. Not good for him, for us.</em></span> It could feel the drug rushing through his veins, pulling them both under a cloud of darkness. Just as it took them under, it <em>reached</em> out for him, a soft <em>caress</em> to <em>steel</em> his resolve, assure him this was just another <em>step</em> in the <em>chain</em>.<br><br><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>It is okay now. I am here to PROTECT you.</em></span><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Man and Machine (Relius &amp; Divine Tenacity)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Relius</strong> on <strong>04-11-2014, 07:11:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>I am here to PROTECT you.</em><br><br>He awoke in his bed.<br><br>Blinking at the familiar ceiling above him, John slowly sat up, wondering how long he'd been under. The last thing he remembered...a voice...inside his head? It had to be the drugs, whatever they were attempting, a side effect...but how would a voice be a side effect? And where was this companion? Bringing a hand to his head, John rubbed his palms against his forehead. It almost felt like a hangover, thinking and questions feeling like a little too much for the moment. Had they tinkered with his mind? Again, John chided himself, best not to think on such things for the moment. Laying back down into the soft sheets of his bed, John took a moment to just relax and enjoy the silence around him. <br><br>The apartment was beyond what a normal soldier could afford, but for surviving the Paladin Program, it had been his gift. Set in the heart of New Century, on the 26th floor, it had hardly been touched since John had been away on deployment. The walls were a calming white, pictures of landscapes and cityscapes decorating the walls. They'd always been his favorite kind of paintings. A large panel TV was mounted across from the bed for viewing in bed, a bookshelf within arms reach standing beside the bed as well, filled with a variety of authors and genres. From murder mysteries to philosophical studies, John was a reader. At first, he'd found the speed he was reading with his now supercharged brain to be too fast, so he'd taught himself to read slower, a much more normal pace. <br><br>Outside of the bedroom was a balcony, complete with a breathtaking view of the city, a living space that mostly acted as an alternative reading area, fully stocked kitchen and dining area, along with two bathrooms. Why he needed two bathrooms was never explained to John, but he had them. All the furniture was either leather or hand carved from some of the finest in the city, the glass coffee table in the living room a particularly nice piece. John almost felt guilty for taking the space, but it was times like these he was happy to wake up here instead of in the labs. <br><br>Sighing, John sat up once more, the warm, inviting sheets tossed aside as the soldier stood up, surprised to find that he had been returned without clothing and very happy that there were no buildings close enough to take a peek inside his cool apartment. Deciding that a shower would be the best to clear up such a headache, John grabbed a pair of dark shorts from the dresser and made his way to the bedroom bathroom, tossing the shorts aside for the moment as he stepped right into the shower, turning the water on a bit cooler in an attempt to help clear his head and refresh his body. <br><br>Closing his eyes to the cool spray, John leaned against the glass enclosure of the shower and allowed the water to caress down his firm athletic form, his muscles glistening beneath the lighting of the bathroom. Shopping around the city, John was used to the appreciative glances and returned any flirting with politeness. Not out of shyness, as high school had proven to be a most adventurous time, but because as a soldier, he was unable to make any commitments, especially now with his Paladin status. Maybe one day, when the war was over, or if he ever found someone within the military...the military...fighting...blood...death...for he was death personified, it was his duty now, to kill and kill and <strong>killandkillandkilll</strong>...<br><br>With a gasp John snapped out of the haze, stumbling back in the shower, chest raising and falling as the water continued to fall upon the panicked soldier. Turning the water off, John stepped from the shower, grabbing a towel to dry himself off, wondering when this AI companion would be showing up. He was certain he had heard it's voice...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Man and Machine (Relius &amp; Divine Tenacity)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Divine Tenacity</strong> on <strong>10-11-2014, 22:06:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>//INITIALIZING...<br><br>//CHECK --&gt; DIAGNOSTICS<br><br>SERVOS...................O.K.<br>VITALS....................O.K.<br>S.I..........................O.K.<br>INTERFACING 40... 60... 98...O.K.<br>//CHECK --&gt; DIAGNOSTICS O.K.<br><br>//RUN SUPPORT AVATAR LOGISTICS INTERFACE ALPHA<br><br>I... live again.</em></span><br><br><br>It <em>woke</em> with <em>him</em>, powering on with seamless efficiency, runnings its checks in less time than it took <em>him</em> to emerge from the confines of the <em>bed</em>. In his confused state, taking in the familiar surroundings of <em>his</em> home, he still tried to piece together the last bits of the puzzle, of what happened in the black, while it was powered down. It could only assume the sedative took hold and dragged <em>him</em> into the land of <em>dreams</em>. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>Where... am I?</em></span> <br><br>Its question was immediately answered, more memories of <em>his</em> flashing through its circuits. <em>He</em> did not move, only savored the <em>peace</em> and <em>tranquility</em> to be found in the moment. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em> OUR-- no HIS home.</em></span> It <em>thought</em>, looking through <em>his</em> eyes on the blank ceiling. It would not speak yet, <em>he</em> was still shaking off the lingering effects of the drugs. There was no need to startle <em>him</em> to its <em>presence</em> yet. <em>He</em> was still very fragile and the wrong move could send <em>him</em> spiraling back down into madness. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font"><em>I will tell YOU, when the time is RIGHT.</em></span><br><br><em>He</em> moved from the bed after the moment was over, surprised to see <em>he</em> was returned without a scrap of clothing on <em>his</em> lean form. It took the chance to look down too, to see <em>his</em> hardened planes and toned muscles, all kept within peak physical condition. It was happy to have been implanted within such a specimen. Its programming would be easier with one in optimal physical condition. <em>He</em> then dived into a drawer to remove shorts, shuffling off into the bathroom and turning the pipes on for a <em>shower</em>. <br><br>Under the cool stream, it took pleasure in enjoying the sensations playing over John's body, the water streaming from his defined shoulders down the length of his body to swirl back into the drain. His thoughts went to a lighter time, before his enlistment into the army, when simply asking a girl on a date was a mission in itself. It saw he had no trouble attracting women, the nameless faces that it was suddenly encountered with was a testament to the fact. John was what a human would call handsome, classically so. <br><br><em>He</em> turned morose, it picked up with the tightening muscles of his face. He was imagining a life one day after the war, of maybe finding someone who could be with him. How could anyone be with him after the things he had seen, had done?<em> ...the military...fighting...blood...death...for he was death personified, it was his duty now, to kill and kill and <strong>killandkillandkilll</strong>...</em> <em>He</em> was <em>shattering</em> before it. It had to stop <em>him</em> before <em>he snapped</em>.<br><br><span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">BREATHE John. Relax. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here.</span><br><br><em>He</em> did not hear it, it seemed. He stumbled, coming back to himself, trying to calm the hard beating of his panicked <em>heart</em>. It spoke again as <em>he</em> remerged into the bathroom proper, sliding a towel low on <em>his</em> hips. <span style="font-family: courier;" class="bbc_font">Your BODY tells me you are CALM. I APOLOGIZE that we had to MEET this way, that I SPOKE so ABRUPTLY.</span><br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Author's Notes</div><div class="spoiler_body">S.I. -&gt; Sensory Immersion</div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Man and Machine (Relius &amp; Divine Tenacity)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Relius</strong> on <strong>19-11-2014, 07:23:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ah. That explained things.<br><br>"Hello"<br><br>The voice <em>was </em>in his head, but it was not <em>his </em>thoughts. John could feel questions beginning to form as he simply stood in the center of his living room, towel wrapped around his waist. When you started hearing voices, there were an ample number of reactions that could be taken. A few psychology books suggested that if you were hearing voices, you might as well just check yourself in and get the straightjacket. Supernatural tales recommended either finding out what had possessed you, or take advantage of whatever demon or angel might be living inside your head for divine powers. Doctor Barker had made things clear enough though, that John was to receive a companion of sorts to help him through his current...stress.<br><br>"I'm John...but I suppose you know that already. And no need to apologize, I don't suppose there's really a procedure to follow when doing this for the first time, eh?"<br><br>Oh god he really hoped this was the AI because otherwise he was standing in the middle of his apartment, essentially naked, talking to himself. Deciding that he really didn't need to be standing around if the person he was having the conversation with was in his head, John simply proceeded to the kitchen, a long list of questions beginning to form in his mind. He needed something that made sense if he was going to talk with himself and peanut butter and jelly was just what the doctor ordered. <br><br>The effects of the panic attack seemed to have worn off for the moment, no shakes or sweats, not that John ever carried that burden with him. It was just in the heat of the moment, when it seemed like the world was crashing down on him...could it read his thoughts too? Or did he have to vocalize everything? Having a computer for a brain, of sorts, it seemed logical that his every thought was being read as he thought it. Banana. Pirate. Banana Pirate. Tight, leather clad butts. Smirking to himself as he walked into the kitchen, John wondered if an AI even found butts attractive.<br><br>"So, whats your name?" <br><br>Opening one of the higher cabinets, John pulled out some peanut butter and a loaf of bread, making his way to the fridge to grab the strawberry jelly "And don't give me anything crazy like RG4. Though knowing Baxter as the technical, uncreative man he is, he probably did give you something with alot of capital letters and numbers didn't he?" Popping open the peanut butter jar with an easy twist of his wrist, John laid out two fresh pieces of bread before lathering up the slices with a healthy dose of the chunky peanut butter and jelly. Technically with his implants, he could have had chips and a soda for breakfast and it would have had the same effect, but John liked being healthy regardless. It helped him feel good.<br><br>"I'm thinking something like Cassandra. Or Jenny. Because even if you are genderless, I would much rather be talking to a woman inside my head and seeing me in the shower"<br><br>Was he making sense? Was he taking the fact that he had a computer talking in his head a bit too easily? Maybe. But at the same time, having someone to just talk to, even if it had only been a few minutes now was...nice. Taking the bread to his lips, John took a large bite, sighing happily at the peanut butter jelly taste that filled his mouth. Perfection. Not about to speak with his mouth full, John thought that since the AI would be the one taking the name, he'd let her choose which one she enjoyed more.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>