Conquering Death (Djin & Cthulhu)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Cthulhu on 13-11-2008, 19:22:32</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>13-11-2008, 19:22:32</strong>
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				Brooklyn walked into his house with a sigh. Again he had to trade the one he loved for one he didn't, and he was tired of it. It wouldn't be for much longer though. The project didn't need the support of his rich wife's family any more, now that some side products were patented and selling very well.<br><br>He went up stairs to shower, not surprised Vicky wasn't around. She always came home late, but he was never jealous or even considering she could have someone else for that matter. Maybe he was too naive, maybe it just didn't matter to him since he didn't love her anyway. It was more like they tolerated each other.<br><br>But now... He wouldn't be able to deny how he felt for much longer. Just when he came out of the shower he heard the door open, and dressed quickly, just in time to hear a half hearted "Honey I'm home".<br><br>'Hey.' He simply said, standing on top of the stairs. 'We need to talk.' Vicky walked up the stairs and passed him by. 'About what sweetie?' She asked, looking at him from out of their room.<br><br>'I'm filing for divorce.' He said after taking a deep breath. He could see her face changing from half happy to total bitch.<br><br>'No, you're not. I'm not giving up this easy life.' She shrugged, liking their life together. If they were to divorce, her family would urge her to get a job again and not some half hearted volunteer thing at the library.<br><br>'I don't love you, you know that. I love someone else.' He explained calmly.<br><br>'I know that. Doesn't mean I care.' She shrugged, walking up to him. 'So you better behave. I'm not letting you go!'<br><br>'It's already too late. I've worked through my part of the papers this morning.'<br><br>'NO!' She said outraged, shoving him, which sent him falling down the stairs. Slightly dizzy, she could hear his arm crack as it got stuck between two stairs and then - his head hitting the floor with a just as sickening sound. <br><br>'Ohmygosh ohmygosh...' She panicked, running down the stairs. 'Brook!' There was only a mere moan in response.<br><br>'Vi-ck... Call an amb..ulance...' He urged her, trying to sit up as one of his hands touched the blood dripping out of one ear.<br><br>'That's not good, right? It means brain damage and all that. You'll be stuck in a hospital forever and I'll be paying for it!' She stomped around. 'Wait!' She suddenly said, grabbing in her purse. It wasn't a cellphone she held now, but a small gun. 'I can still collect the life insurance bit, right? All I need to do... Is pull this trigger...' Tears welled up in her eyes when she turned out to be less brave than she thought.<br><br>'Vicky! No!' It were the last words spoken by him before the bullet hit his skull.<br><br>It was strange... Brook couldn't move - he could hear Vicky calling the police, telling them a burglar had shot her husband. He just hoped the crew of the lab would beat the police to the scene - flashes of morgues and cemeteries scared the heck out of him right now. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>13-11-2008, 23:30:36</strong>
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				For the third time in an hour, Devon slid his cell from his pocket and pushed '69'.. the auto-dial number he'd set months ago amid a massive amount of snickering.. and listened to it ring.&nbsp; For the third time in an hour, voicemail picked up after a seemingly endless stretch of time.&nbsp; For the third time in an hour, he listened to a voice he'd come to melt at the sound of.&nbsp; 'You've reached Brooklyn. Can't answer just now.&nbsp; Please leave a message.'&nbsp; <br><br>Sighing, slipping the phone back in to the tiny pocket at his thigh that was designated for sleek little electronic devices, he leaned against the bricks at his back and took another drag from the half-spent cig that had been burning away ignored between his fingers.&nbsp; As he always did, he thought about the flavorful smoke coiling in his mouth, sucked in to his lungs, where it proceeded to char the tissue it met. He still took another drag.&nbsp; Having the in-depth knowledge he did about things that killed people didn't make him any less likely to do them.&nbsp; That probably said a lot about him.<br><br>Tilting his head up, staring up at the strip of sky he could see through the towering buildings, he thought back to when he'd set the auto dialer.&nbsp; Sprawled out and languid in bed, his limbs tangled through Brook's, laughing about what whores they were, shacking up after a few friendly meetings. Trying to laugh through the sudden influx of feelings they both knew they were experiencing.&nbsp; Brook was married. Dev had known that right off.&nbsp; It hadn't mattered.&nbsp; Just like imagining his lungs blackening and shriveling like dehydrated prunes with each puff, imagining Brook going home to his wife didn't thwart Dev's libido or the path his heart had taken.&nbsp; <br><br>From the vicinity of his hip came a sudden vibration then the shrill opening notes of his ringer.&nbsp; Startled, he simultaneously dropped the cig, cursed, and fumbled his phone from it's pocket.&nbsp; A glance at the Caller ID on the screen defeated his excitement.&nbsp; It wasn't Brook. <br><br>"Devon Ryland."&nbsp; His tone was stark. This was business.&nbsp; He listened.&nbsp; "He's here at City?..&nbsp; Right. Yes.&nbsp; I'm just outside."&nbsp; He scratched at an eyebrow with his thumb as he pushed from the wall, then moved to the steel door a few yards away.&nbsp; A key code was required for entry, and he punched it in.<br><br>"Ballistics?&nbsp; I thought you said it was a fall?"&nbsp; His face was confused, as much by what he was listening to as by the chill that suddenly snaked it's way down his spine.&nbsp; Devon was not a squeamish man.&nbsp; You couldn't be a Medical Examiner and have a weak constitution.&nbsp; "I see.&nbsp; I'll be there in two minutes."<br><br>He passed a pair of orderlies pushing a stretcher.&nbsp; The rider was motionless and covered in a sheet.&nbsp; Around him the halls were white tile, his Rockports squeaked on the floor beneath him, and once the stretcher with the noisy wheel was gone, his shoes and the whispery swish of his cottons scrubs were the only sounds.&nbsp; This place, it's ominousness and silence, had never bothered him before.&nbsp; He could not explain the sudden sense of foreboding, the certainty that someone he loved was in peril. Or worse, <em>had</em> been in peril.&nbsp; He was being stupid. A delayed reaction to Brooklyn's news earlier that evening.&nbsp; <br><br>'I'm leaving her.'&nbsp; Right out of the blue like that, while they stood eating Chinese food out of little square boxes, leaning on the hood of Dev's car parked overlooking the river.&nbsp; It was a shock. He was still in shock. That's all it was.<br><br>He rounded the corner and saw Brockridge, taking up most of the hallway and looking all the more intimidating for the grizzle on his chin and the brightness of the well-polished badge clipped to his hip.&nbsp; The two men nodded to each other and did not speak.&nbsp; They both preferred it that way, lest it sway the direction the body would lead Dev once he gloved up and dug in.&nbsp; An officer and two orderlies crowded around the table in the exam room.&nbsp; How long ago had they arrived?&nbsp; They were never this fast about getting a body in to his hands and demanding an immediate autopsy.&nbsp; <br><br>Dev had never seen one of the orderlies before, though that wasn't surprising.&nbsp; City hospitals weren't known for great turnover rates.&nbsp; The unfamiliar man seemed to know his business, however, as he went about escorting everyone but Devon from the room.<br><br>"I'm going to get them set with the paperwork, Dr. Ryland."&nbsp; Devon glanced up from the tray of tools he was preparing, and nodded.&nbsp; The man had the strangest blue eyes Devon had ever seen.&nbsp; <br><br>"Sure, fine.&nbsp; Take your time.&nbsp; I'll begin."&nbsp; The orderly vanished through the door, which sighed closed behind him with a slow pneumatic sound that always made Devon feel like he was sealed up in a bank vault.<br><br>"Just you and I, my friend."&nbsp; He murmured, turning his back on the corpse and beginning to scrub his hands to the elbow in a sink that lined one wall.&nbsp; "Had a bit of a nasty night, did we?"&nbsp; Outside, he could hear the voices of the orderlies and police, muffled through concrete and steel, before they faded.&nbsp; He fixed a mask over his face, picked up the chart from the counter, and reached up to switch on the microphone hanging over the table. <br><br>He opened his mouth as his eyes found the name on the chart, as it was the information he'd begin relaying for the recording that was now running, and around the green surgical mask his face blanched a shade as white as the tiles at his feet.&nbsp; <br><br>"G-god.. no."&nbsp; The chart rattled in his hand as his other reached for the sheet and tore it back. Brooklyn was an unusual name for a man, and the face he saw.. though horribly distorted.. was not that of a stranger.&nbsp; The room was filled with a weird sound, and eventually Devon realized it was coming from his own throat.&nbsp; A terrible sound that wasn't quite a cry and wasn't quite a scream.&nbsp; Something guttural and primal that came from where pain lived next door to shock.&nbsp; <br><br>The door opened, and the unfamiliar orderly came through.&nbsp; Though he wasn't alone.&nbsp; Men in suits didn't belong here, but neither did Brooklyn.&nbsp; Devon pointed a shaking hand at the dead man, his dead lover for fuck's sake, on the table, and shook his head at the orderly. It was the only thing that seemed to make any sense.&nbsp; He just shook his head and the tears began to stream down his cheeks.&nbsp; <br><br>Incredibly, the orderly seemed to understand.&nbsp; There was actual pity on his face, but he couldn't know, couldn't possibly know, because nobody knew.&nbsp; Except that bitch! Oh, yes. That was it, wasn't it. That bitch killed him! Brook told her and she killed him!&nbsp; All of this ran through Devon's mind, and he thought it came through his mouth, though he'd never stopped making that horrible, high sound, though it was beginning to loose volume and become a grating whisper as his throat worked to expel words he couldn't form. <br><br>The orderly was touching him, telling him it was going to be alright as the two strange men in suits approached Brooklyn.. God, poor Brooklyn.. they looked at his chart, dropped it on to Brook's chest, pulled the sheet up-<br><br>The orderly was turning his face, making Devon look in to those strange blue eyes in which lived the oddest expression of compassion blended with clinical coldness.&nbsp; Devon's own soft browns were wide and wet, afraid and confused and.. and angry! The wife! Tell them it was the wife! This time he almost made a sound like a word, but he was being shushed, and Brook was being rolled away, what the fuck were they doing?!&nbsp; And the strange blue eyes were holding his again, the orderly was saying things that made no sense, a mistake, a horrible mistake. Well yes there was a horrible mistake, his lover was fucking dead and he was alone!&nbsp; And they were shifting him over to a gurney, taking him- where were they taking him?<br><br>"Where?"&nbsp; He could speak again, and stand on his own without leaning against the counter he'd practically collapsed on to.&nbsp; "Where are you taking him? I.. I have to go with him. It was his wife!'&nbsp; Devon spun, wanting to make sure the orderly understood, that someone understood, before he lost his mind because he was certain he was doing just that.&nbsp; There was the vague awareness of a pinprick, something stuck in his bicep, and he saw the meaty arm of the orderly moving away, a syringe in hand.&nbsp; Those strange blue eyes again.<br><br>"We're sorry you had to see this."&nbsp; <br><br>Then all was black.<br><br>*****<br><br>"Sir?&nbsp; Sir?...."&nbsp; A pair of icy blue eyes stared down at the man strapped to the stretcher in the back of the van, lifting one lid and then the other.&nbsp; The light was dim, especially when pupils didn't dilate.&nbsp; "If you can hear me, sir. We've got you.&nbsp; The lab didn't get the call right away, something fucked up in the relay.&nbsp; But it's okay now.&nbsp; We were in time before the- Well. We've got you."&nbsp; <br><br>Pavement hissed beneath the tires, and death was linear as it streaked black by the windows, swirled through with occasional blazes of red and gold.&nbsp; No, not death.&nbsp; Only the city in quick-motion as the unmarked van made haste to the clinic.&nbsp; Ahead, in the front seats, two men laughed.<br><br>"Fuck me running, you see that doc's face?&nbsp; I'd kill to be there when he woke up."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>14-11-2008, 17:38:18</strong>
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				<em>Hypothesis: Side effects of the Vaccine include temporary spells of stasis, in which the patient seems dead. These spells are unpredictable and become more frequent and longer every time they occur. <br>Status: proven. </em><br><br>Brook was only vaguely aware of what was going on. Most of his energy was now drained towards repairing the lot of damage his body had suffered. It was a miracle he was still breathing. Somewhere between Vicky and the orderly, and the laughter in the van... There had been a voice. One that he didn't want to part with. <em>Devon... He's seen me like this...</em> He knew that one day it would probably have happened anyway, but he wished he'd been able to warn him. But the project was top secret. And though Brook was still in college studying medicine, as soon as he had finished his studies, he would be his father's successor as head scientist of the lab's core. ((I'm thinking he's about 25, which would be the right age if he still had only one year to go of studying.)) <br><br>Over the years it had grown from a tiny lab with him, his father, and two or three other scientists into a half government funded, half privately funded lab that was occupied with scientists, military people, researchers that supervised only the possibly financially beneficial parts, which they produced far from their core product. Now they could afford a bunch of guinea pigs of all species - but he himself had still been the first to try the Vaccine at the tender age of 17, though fully aware of all possible consequences. So he was still Subject 1, tested with the first version of the Vaccine, which now was Version 8.1. The later versions had been tweaked to give less side effects, but were not effective at all. Of course, the first version had only today been tested - people in the lab, especially the first few that worked with Brook and his father Michael personally, were less than eager to shoot their human guinea pig to find out if it worked. So they became a little separated from the groups that tested the further versions of the Vaccine, and could kill their animal subjects easily. Although it would have been nice if some of them did come back to life without side effects. Unfortunately, all factions were still at the same stage. <br><br>Until now. Version 1 had proven to be the most potent. Michael himself was not surprised. It seemed only right that for this sort of immortality, a high price was demanded. At least so he had thought... Until he had seen Brook with his own eyes. Not the weak stomached kind, even he had to close his eyes a second. Nobody thought less of him for it - it was his own son lying on the table. <br><br>"Get him into an intensive care unit. Even if he does wake up in the first 72 hours, don't anyone dare bother him with questions." Michael glared around to the newer scientists especially. Taking a deep breath, he stroked his hand over his stubble. Ever since he had heard he'd been unable to focus on anything else but getting Brook to safety. <br><br>*****<br><br>With the perfect balance of a cord dancer, Vicky walked her tall stiletto heels into the hospital. Tear streaked mascara, seemingly randomly thrown on clothes, made the image of "widow in mourning" complete. She was going to give her statement at the bureau soon... But first, she had to find out. Brook had loved someone else - and he usually smelled like hospital. Though she had no idea that came from his work at the lab, she still traced it back to the right place to find his lover. And here she had the excuse of being able to come claim her poor husband's body.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>14-11-2008, 18:38:19</strong>
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				There was a cold compress held to the left side of his head, the one he'd landed on, and the remains of a crust of blood running from eyebrow to jaw on that same side.&nbsp; The headache was still throbbing even though he'd been awake for almost an hour.&nbsp; Devon didn't think it was from the fall.&nbsp; His dark skin provided good cover for needle marks, they hadn't found it, but he was certain he remembered that part of it. The strange orderly had stuck him with something.&nbsp; Right after Devon had discovered, without warning and with his own eyes, that his lover was dead.<br><br>"Shit."&nbsp; He muttered, sniffing again against a fresh barrage of tears.&nbsp; Pulling the compress away, he was glad to see that the towel it was wrapped in was relatively free of fresh blood.&nbsp; As best he could figure it, he'd clipped his head on the edge of the steel counter as he'd crumpled after that bastard shot him up.&nbsp; That explained the inch-long gash just behind his temple, and nothing bled as readily as the scalp.<br><br>At least he hadn't woken up alone, half his face glued to the floor by a pool of his own blood, to discover Brook's body gone.&nbsp; Devon had come to on the bed, having no recollection of how he'd gotten in to the emergency ward.&nbsp; Truth be told, the few minutes before his collapse were hazed and spotty as well, which is what was making this interrogation so difficult.&nbsp; He imagined he had the drug to thank for his memory's reluctance.<br><br>"I told you, Gene.&nbsp; It was the orderly.&nbsp; He sent you guys off to Tammy to dick with the paperwork and came back with two of his buddies.&nbsp; Nerdy looking blokes in cheap suits.&nbsp; No I don't remember exactly what they looked like, but fuck's sake I was in a bit of shock."&nbsp; At that his face crumpled again, and he felt the hot tears on his hotter cheeks.&nbsp; He wasn't a crier.&nbsp; He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a good sob.&nbsp; Maybe he'd never cried like this.&nbsp; He'd never been heartbroken before.<br><br>He pushed at his brow, lifted the compress in to place again to battle off the throb in his head, then wiped at the tears with the heel of his free hand.&nbsp; He stared at his hand as he brushed the tears off on to the pale green fabric of his scrub pants. <br><br>"They loaded Brook up on a stretcher and took him just before that bastard injected me."<br><br>He didn't see his green pants, he was seeing the bloody mess of Brook's face, his twisted arm, the tattoo on his chest that matched the one over Devon's heart.&nbsp; One of their sillier moments, forever stamping themselves with the logo of the coffee shop they'd met in; a black spade like on a playing card, surrounded by an arsty sort of cartouche. He made a fist of his hand, closed his eyes as he concentrated, and thumped his fist lightly against his thigh as he made each point, trying to drive home his certainty to the doubtful detective.<br><br>"I saw them.&nbsp; They took him.&nbsp; But that's not as important as the wife.&nbsp; Please tell me if you've found the wife, Gene.&nbsp; Have questioned her.&nbsp; She did it.&nbsp; She fucking did it.&nbsp; Please tell me that, or when I leave here I swear to God I'll go looking for the bitch myself."&nbsp; He and Brook had often joked about how efficient a murderer Devon would be, given the knowledge he had in his line of work.&nbsp; If the police didn't do their jobs on this one, he just might have to test the theory.<br><br>"Take it easy, Dev.&nbsp; We're checking out everything.&nbsp; Just now it looks like her story's holding u-"<br><br>"Her story? Her <em>story</em>?!&nbsp; Look, I told you, he was going to end it with her. Had already set things in motion to do it.&nbsp; You don't find it a little convenient that suddenly he-."&nbsp; Devon sucked in a breath, closed his eyes again, and pressed his lips together to stifle himself lest that strange keening sound start up again. <br><br>Brockridge, gruff as he was, was full of genuine sympathy.&nbsp; He'd known Devon's father, Bernie, since they were in school, and had served on the force with him until Bernie went down in the line of duty.&nbsp; Since then he'd gladly assumed a more active role as godfather and had taken Devon under his wing, only fifteen at the time, a surrogate son as Brockridge had no children of his own.&nbsp; Devon's mother hadn't done well after her husband's death.&nbsp; Against all odds, Devon had risen above it.&nbsp; Gone through medical school years earlier than most, and quickly moved through the ranks to become one of the city's medical examiners.&nbsp; Given his familiarity with the police force, he was a favorite among them, and he was the best of his breed.&nbsp; He'd accomplished a great deal in the fifteen years since his father's death had given him an excuse to give up.&nbsp; <br><br>Though despite having a hand in raising him, Gene Brockridge hadn't known until tonight that Devon was gay.&nbsp; Not only that, but in love. Real love. And absolutely shattered by his lover's death. He rested a thick, surprisingly gentle, hand on Devon's shoulder.<br><br>"You need some time.&nbsp; Decompress.&nbsp; You've had a bad shock.&nbsp; Why don't you go home, I'll come by in the morning, mm?"<br><br>Bleary, red-rimmed eyes lifted to regard Brockridge, and Devon managed a wan curve that might've been an attempt at a smile.&nbsp; Just as he was about to claim that he was fine, a point of view his godfather was prepared to argue with, a female voice came in to earshot at the other end of the emergency room, toward the admitting desk.<br><br>"I'm sorry, ma'am, you can't go back there.&nbsp; If you are looking for Detective Brockridge, I'll get him for you."&nbsp; But the determined lady in the ridiculous shoes and smeared makeup was used to ignoring underlings who attempted to push her around.&nbsp; Her father practically owned this hospital, for pity's sake. She could go wherever she pleased.&nbsp; <br><br>Gene and Devon saw her at the same time, though their reactions were quite opposite.&nbsp; For Gene Brockridge, everything seemed to slow down as he saw the next moments played out.&nbsp; For Devon, they sped up.&nbsp; As did he.&nbsp; He was off the raised bed and across the floor before Gene could've hoped to grab him.&nbsp; <br><br>"I'll fucking kill you!"&nbsp; The roar was full of menace, as were his topaz eyes as he stalked toward the woman.&nbsp; Black hair a disheveled and bloody mess, face crusted with dried blood that had also sullied the shoulder and arm of his smock.&nbsp; Devon's father's was British, but his mother was pure Italian, and he drew upon his inherited temper now.&nbsp; <br><br>"You bitch! You goddamn <em>bitch</em>!"&nbsp; Still thick with rage, his voice had also taken on a fragile quality as the tears came again.&nbsp; They obstructed his vision, slowing him enough for Gene to catch him from behind in a bear hug around the middle just ten feet away from her.&nbsp; He thrashed and squirmed in the larger man's grasp, but was effectively caught.&nbsp; <br><br>"Goddamnit Gene! Let me go!&nbsp; She fucking <em>killed</em> Brook! Waltzing in here like the snooty whore she is. Murdering! Murdering whore!"&nbsp; By then he'd drawn the attention of everyone in the emergency, doctors and nurses and a few patients alike.&nbsp; One of the doctor's stopped gaping at the medical examiner long enough to shake himself in to action and scramble for a sedative.&nbsp; <br><br>"Stop it boy, stop it!"&nbsp; Gene was shouting though his mouth was near Devon's ear, sweating as he struggled with the younger man, surprised by and oddly proud of his strength.&nbsp; He didn't focus on the pride just then.&nbsp; Bodying Devon to the side so he could better see the new widow, Brockridge tried to inject cool professionalism in to his voice.&nbsp; Even though he believed everything Devon was saying. <br><br>"I am sorry, ma'am. He lost a friend tonight. I'm sure you can understand.."<br><br>"Lost?!&nbsp; <em>She</em> killed him!!"&nbsp; Devon was practically growling, panting for breath and prying his fingers at Gene's arms.&nbsp; His eyes were pure fury, his face red with rage and streaked with tears.&nbsp; Then, for the second time that night, he was stuck with a needle.&nbsp; He never saw the doctor come in on his right side, as Vicky was off to his left and he couldn't rip his eyes from her. There was no passing out this time, but he almost immediately turned pliable in Gene's arms.<br><br>"Don't.. oh god.. not again.. Don't let her get.. away.. Gene."&nbsp; The heat slowly sapped from his eyes, and they threatened to roll back in his head behind fluttering lids.&nbsp; The intrepid doctor assisted Gene with bearing Devon's weight as his legs weakened, and nodded toward one branch of the hallway, informing the detective that there were restraining beds available that way.<br><br>Brockridge insisted it wouldn't be necessary, though wasn't certain of the validity of his words, then glanced to Vicky before they moved away.&nbsp; His instinct told him to call every cop in the hospital down here to detain her and take her to the station.&nbsp; As it was, he couldn't behave so rashly. Everyone knew who her father was.&nbsp; If she was to be charged, they damn well better have their ducks in a row first.&nbsp; Even though he wanted to at least summon an officer to 'keep her company' until he could speak to her, his hands were full with Devon at the moment, and his irrefutable duty was to take care of him.<br><br>"We will only be a moment, ma'am.&nbsp; Please, I apologize for.. my friend here.&nbsp; Would you wait for me in the lobby?&nbsp; I would be happy to meet with you."&nbsp; It cloyed in his stomach, talking to her this way, but he was good at his job.&nbsp; And he couldn't neglect the fact that he was about to tell the woman that they'd misplaced her husband's body.&nbsp; And that the man she was now sure to regard as a lunatic was the only witness.&nbsp; He had no room to have an attitude. <br><br>It would take only five minutes.&nbsp; The doctor finally convinced Brockridge, after a bit of a spitting match as to who had jurisdiction over Devon, to allow the shackles.&nbsp; Thought they weren't shackles, really, but padded straps that fit over Devon's wrists, ankles and waist, binding him to the bed.&nbsp; Devon was out of it, muttering incoherently, his eyes glazed and far away.&nbsp; Gene thought that might even be good. The kid needed a break from current events right now.&nbsp; <br><br>He took a moment in the little bathroom across the hall, splashed water on his face and got his heart rate back to normal, before going to find the grieving widow.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>14-11-2008, 19:23:49</strong>
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				<em>Hypothesis 2: Those injected with the Vaccine gain an abnormally quick pace of regeneration, which only starts itself up as soon as the body revives from death. <br>Status: Proven</em><br><br>Vicky was sipping at a cup of water, looking out the window to the rainy city. It was late. But she now knew who had been the one to steal her husband's heart. Expensively manicured fingers crushed the cup and tossed it, just as she was hoping to do to the man that had charged at her. With such a reaction... It was hard to ignore that he was most likely the one. <br><br>So. Not only did the policy leave her without a dime - apparently, it wasn't paid out unless death had been natural. What she didn't know was that there was no policy or life insurance. Brook was penniless. So though killing him had saved her from a paraplegic husband, she was still not gaining anything. <br><br><em>A man! He left me for... For that...!</em> Her lips formed little furious rosebuds before she relaxed them with a sigh. It would explain a lot. Brook&nbsp; had never been interested in sex she thought - but to the contrary. It was the kind of sex that turned him off. She had not been a queen, goddess that had graciously wanted to bestow what he needed upon him, like she had fancied herself to be in many a dull moment. <br><br>When the officer came in, she gave his apologies a wan little sad smile, and sat down. Years of acting school had paid off - but would she be good enough to convince this man. <br><br>"I don't think a burglar shot my husband..." She bit her luscious lower lip, then met up to Brockridge's eyes. "As your experts have confirmed, the locks weren't cracked. And why would anyone shoot a defenceless man with a broken arm?" She was filling up the own flaws in her story. "I think Brook let him in." A crime of passion made more sense than a burglary... And she would oh so subtly try to direct them to Devon. The male hadn't made a very stable impression on her. He could very well become a suspect in her mind, as long as it would take the focus off of her.<br><br>A moment to pat her eyes dry. No need for fake tears. She really did feel bad now she had lost the safety of a fake marriage. Having to fend for herself and do her homework herself were concepts of the near future, things Brook had done willingly for her as long as she didn't want any emotions from him. <br><br>"Lately... Brook had been very distant." It seemed a randomly recalled memory, but it was perfectly planned out. If only she had known about around what time the relationship had started... "Like, it started a few months ago." Yes, that must have been it. The time after he came home with the patch on his chest. She had peeked under it the same night and not understood the meaning of it... But she felt now it had something to do with the male that had flown at her so fiercely. <br><br>"You will promise me you'll find the bastard, won't you?" She looked up pleadingly to Brockridge. <br><br>*****<br><br>Zela sighed, seeing Devon strapped to a bed. <em>So this is the boy Brook felt for...</em> The scientist had been the second to join the project, thus belonging to the original group who had found the research thrilling enough to be a part of long before there was even talk about a wage for work. He would just hang around until he woke up, and then take him home, having promised Brook to take care of him but not having sought him out specifically until now. <br><br>The man was in his late forties, grey hair streaking his once blue toned black hair. He had sharp features, and a little well-kept beard. <br><br>((Will add a description of Brook soon.))
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>14-11-2008, 22:56:43</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Brockridge could see where this was going, but there was little that he could do. He could only offer assurances that they would find the true culprit behind Brook's death, and bring that person to justice.&nbsp; That, at least, was true.&nbsp; They'd sure as hell try.&nbsp; Then came the difficult part, especially since he was dreading the prospect of having to comforting this cold-hearted woman.&nbsp; Her beauty, her obvious sexuality, was not lost on Gene, however it only served to make her seem more horrible.&nbsp; Evil wrapped up in a pretty package.<br><br>"There is something else, ma'am. There has been an incident.. a theft.. here at the hospital.&nbsp; Your husband's body was taken."&nbsp; He let that sink in for a beat or two; it was strange information to absorb, then continued.&nbsp; "There was a witness, and we are in the process of going through the security tapes to see if we can get any more information.&nbsp; I assure you we are looking in to this to our full extent."<br><br>But it might just be a stroke of luck for the murdering wife.&nbsp; With the body gone, the bullet lodged in Brook's brain went with it.&nbsp; No body, no bullet, no ballistics.&nbsp; Any evidence they could possibly dig up would be totally circumstantial.&nbsp; Though the same went for the broken man Vicky planned to frame.&nbsp; <br><br>***<br><br>That man was blissfully detached from the world.&nbsp; In his drug-induced haze, then sleep, Devon was with Brook.&nbsp; Brook had a scar, but his face was his face again, his arm was healed, and he was smiling.&nbsp; It was not a sex dream, but they'd just made love and were lounging in the sun, not caring if all the world saw them.&nbsp; No more second-rate hotels or sneaking off to Devon's flat and hoping the nosy neighbor didn't see.&nbsp; <br><br>In his dream they talked, they made plans for the future that sounded more like real plans and less like fanciful daydreams.&nbsp; They held, they touched, and the sun was warm, the air stirring over their bodies scented by the grass and the flowers growing in it.&nbsp; <br><br>In the present, a single tear trickled from the corner of Devon's eye and rolled back over his high, shapely cheek bone.&nbsp; The eyes beneath his lids were rolling with movement, indicating his deep dreamy sleep.&nbsp; He slept for a long time.&nbsp; <br><br>The dream ended with a shot, even though the event had already happened in the dream, giving Brook his scar, Vicky was suddenly there in the meadow, standing behind Brook, and Devon too paralyzed with fear to speak up.&nbsp; She took aim, fired, and Brook's face disappeared, spraying Devon in a mist of blood and tissue.<br><br>He sat up screaming, trying to wipe at his face and being unable to reach due to the tethers at his wrists. But he had to get the blood off!&nbsp; No.. not blood, sweat and tears pulled from him by the dream.&nbsp; Wide-eyed, breathing heavily, the ache in his head swooped back in all at once and crippled him with a groan as he sank back against the pillow.&nbsp; For several seconds it would've seemed that he had not been aware of Zela sitting there.&nbsp; Though once he calmed himself, his eyes still closed as he focused on his breathing, he spoke.<br><br>"Who are you?"&nbsp; The dream was still so real. He could feel the warm imprint of Brook's mouth on his, feel the silky texture of Brook's hair through his fingers.&nbsp; He clenched his jaw and resolved not to cry.&nbsp; Who knew who this man was.&nbsp; Police?&nbsp; Lawyer? Heaven forbid..
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>14-11-2008, 23:20:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 3: In aforementioned spells, from here on called "stasis", subject is able to perceive reality as it goes on around them. <br>Status: Controversial. </em><br><br>Vicky's eyes widened... But then she realised this could work out better than she had hoped. "Oh dear God. He-He incinerated it, didn't he? The mad man that flew at me..." There was a cremation oven somewhere in the morgue, so even if it hadn't been used... Devon worked in this place. He could have hidden it for burning later. "You can't let him get away with this!" She got up dramatically, almost twisting her ankle on the heels. It didn't matter to her. If this worked out... She'd feel better. Yes. She'd feel better. Though she knew it wouldn't better her life, it would be worth the trouble to know the two people thinking they could cheat on her were dead. <br><br>"When are you bringing him in with all this evidence!?" Her only flaw was that her oh so hasty approach showed she wanted someone arrested for this murder. And preferably not herself. <br><br>*****<br><br>Zela got up. "Je m'excuse, Dr Ryland, for intruding like this." He got up to undo the bonds that held Devon down. "I am a friend of Brook's. So please allow me to bring you home. I promise him I would make sure you were safe..." His English was scented with a thick French accent, which made his seeming unwillingness to talk in the past tense seem like he didn't know English well enough to use it. Still he was and looked able bodied. "Call me Zela." He gave no further explanation about why he was there or how he would have known the man. Thanks to Brook, he already knew where Devon lived, what measures Brook had taken for an occasion like this, and how to keep in touch with the lab. <br><br>Michael had agreed on him involving Devon in this - though he wouldn't be told about the project until it was sure Brook would make it and was able to see him. A whole lot of little rules and regulations, but it wasn't their project anymore. The military kept an eye on every guest that came to see the project, so it would be up to Devon to show he was willing to know about - and maybe eventually - and eventually work on project Vaccine with them. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>15-11-2008, 00:53:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Heavy, thatched brows climbed Gene's forehead.&nbsp; He looked genuinely surprised.&nbsp; The idea was almost laughable, though he dare not give in to temptation.&nbsp; And, against his better judgment, he couldn't completely dismiss the nagging suspicion that Devon had done something with Brooks' body.&nbsp; It was crazy, yes, but up until an hour and a half ago Gene had been in the dark about a lot of big things in Devon's life.&nbsp; He could understand why he'd kept his sexual preferences to himself, but still..<br><br>Devon was so distraught from the moment he came around.&nbsp; Who was to say that, in some sort of crazy panic, he hadn't squirreled his lover's corpse away for some reason.&nbsp; Then passed out cold from the trauma of being presented with such a shock.&nbsp; Possible, yes. But not likely.&nbsp; Despite Devon's secrets, Gene knew the important parts of the kid's personality.&nbsp; He wasn't a psycho.&nbsp; <br><br>He rose steadily as she stumbled to her feet, and he set a steadying hand on her forearm.&nbsp; <br><br>"I assure you we will be investigating every possible suspect."&nbsp; The first traces of a more solid, less conciliatory tone edged in to his voice.&nbsp; A detective's edge.&nbsp; He pushed his lips in to an insincere smile.<br><br>"I will do my best to keep you informed.&nbsp; I understand how upset you must be.&nbsp; Could you give me the address and phone of where you'll be staying, while the house is being processed?"&nbsp; From the inside of his suit coat, he produced a small notebook and pen, and jotted down the information once she gave it.&nbsp; &nbsp;He then offered to see her safely to her car.&nbsp; <br><br>Having already left word with the desk requesting immediate notification when Devon came around again, he felt he'd be serving the boy better if he got out of the hospital and began familiarizing himself with the life, friends and enemies of the dead man.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>****<br><br>Exhaustion was in Devon's eyes, but the wariness still came through.&nbsp; Even as he offered sincere, if downtrodden, thanks for the removal of the cuffs.&nbsp; He was slow in sitting up, very aware of the pressure of his blood as it surged through his head. Even the slightest movement brought a new wave of aching.&nbsp; He'd have to take something soon.&nbsp; <br><br>A frown shadowed his features as Zela mentioned brook, both in confusion and loss.&nbsp; Then he seemed to understand.&nbsp; He stood from the edge of the bed and went slowly about getting his shoes back on; someone had removed them.&nbsp; The drug, or drugs, in his system made him sluggish.&nbsp; The ache in his head and left side didn't help.<br><br>"Brook knew it was going to happen, didn't he."&nbsp; Thankfully, he was done with tears for now, though he could not allow himself to linger on the idea of sweet Brook arranging for Zela to come take care of him in the event of his death.&nbsp; Brook had been your typical slightly forgetful and eccentric scientist, even as a scientist-to-be still going through the rigors of med school.&nbsp; But his moments of thoughtfulness were touchingly poignant.&nbsp; He must've known how utterly unhinged Devon would become without him.<br><br>He sighed, the followed it with a few deep, slow breaths.&nbsp; They made the ache in his temples subside just a little.&nbsp; Then he got to his feet and combed his hands back through his tousled hair, carefully avoiding the tender spot behind his left temple, where the sutured gash was.&nbsp; There was a little bald spot there, shaved while he'd still been unconscious.&nbsp; That was a bitch.. he'd just grown his hair to the right length.&nbsp; All gentle waves that spilled handsomely he thought, and Brook had agreed, around his face.<br><br>"I appreciate it, Mr. Zela."&nbsp; Right up until he got to the point of saying the words, he'd intended to decline Zela's offer of assistance.&nbsp; Then he thought about how atrocious an idea it was for him to get behind the wheel of a car just then, and found himself relenting.&nbsp; He had to live long enough to see that bitch brought down.&nbsp; "If you don't mind.. we'll take a back way out.&nbsp; I'd rather not deal with the administration at this moment.."&nbsp; He hesitated, unsure if he should continue, and then inexplicably found himself trusting this man.&nbsp; "..I'm not even certain they'd release me."<br><br>During his internship, Devon had spent more time at the hospital than at home.&nbsp; Not much had changed over the years.&nbsp; He knew the corridors well, and nobody of importance spotted he and his new friend as they made their way to the parking levels.&nbsp; Devon loved his car and hated to let anyone else chauffeur him around.&nbsp; He supposed he'd be getting used to doing without quite a few things he loved.&nbsp; He got in to Zela's car and gave him directions to his flat, unaware that the man already knew the address.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>15-11-2008, 01:22:54</strong>
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				<em>Hypothesis 3 : Vaccine is not a last resort. It must have been injected hours prior before it will take effect in case of death. <br>Status: unverified.</em><br><br>"Brook knew." Zela nodded. "But probably not in the way you mean it." He easily kept up with Devon navigating through the hospital, and shook his head at the directions. "Spare your breath." He parked the car in front of Devon's place soon. <br><br>Most of Brook's belongings were here, Zela knew, and that was also part of the reason he was here. Some of his stuff would come in handy if he would wake up, but he'd need Devon's permission. "This is going to sound weird, but trust me." Zela took a deep breath. <br><br><em>There's a letter for him under my stack of clothing. He'll find it if he cleans it out. Just let him have a minute alone with it.</em> Every part of Brook's instruction letter was etched into his mind. Perhaps it was obsession, or just his knowledge of the fact that this was a very delicate situation and that the letter and how well Brook knew Devon would offer some support. <br><br>"You need to put Brook's stuff into boxes. I know this might not be what you were wanting to do..." Zela shrugged.&nbsp; He couldn't go in and find the letter and read it to him. All he had to do is made sure he found it, even if he read it at a later date when he was more able to. "Or get some sleep. Either way, you have to clean out his part of the wardrobe." It felt a bit awkward - a complete stranger coming to manage another grown man's life. Devon seemed to need a little direction though. <br><br>Obviously, they meant a lot to eachother. Brook had gone through a lot of trouble for something that may or may not have happened during their time together, and Devon was so upset it was almost inconceivable to Zela. <br><br>The letter... Ah. Brook's biggest worry about the plan. It had to be written very generally, and with as little details as possible, but he had managed. <br><br>"Dear Devon, <br><br>&nbsp; When you find this, something you and me both don't want to think of has happened. Don't despair though. Take some time off from work. Finally get into writing that book you wanted to write. Take a rest. Why you ask? <br><br>I can't say much in answer to that. You know I've been working on something with my father, and that not all of that were things I would bring home to talk about. Just trust in me that if this one thing would work, it would rock our world. <br><br>Loving you more than I can say, <br><br>Brook." <br><br>Short and sappy, as Michael had called it, Zela found it utterly romantic. But his opinion didn't count. He was just here to make sure he took that rest, and to prep him when they decided he was to be shown what all this was about. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>15-11-2008, 19:50:05</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Devon looked toward Zela, surprised and disquieted, as he waved away the directions and proceeded to the industrial area where Devon rented his big loft-style apartment.&nbsp; How much more might this man know about him?&nbsp; He didn't question it just then.&nbsp; He watched the city roll by his window, dark and unforgiving, seeming riddled with more shadows and less light than Devon remembered.&nbsp; At some point he realized how numb he felt, dull and hollowed out, and though the double-cocktail of sedatives in his system might have accounted for some of it, he recognized grieving for what it was.&nbsp; <br><br>He only nodded at Zela's rather vague confirmation that Brook saw this coming, glancing sidelong at the man and feeling a momentary pang of jealousy for how much more Zela seemed to know about his lover than he did.&nbsp; That was stupid, feeling like that, but it couldn't be helped.&nbsp; <br><br>At first unwilling to get out of the car, gazing up at the dark widows of his flat and remembering how much of Brook was left behind there, he at first didn't register Zela's words.&nbsp; Then he rotated his head slowly toward the man, his frown deep, eyes incredulous. <br><br>"You.. can't be serious.&nbsp; <em>Tonight</em>?&nbsp; I'm supposed to do that <em>tonight</em>?"&nbsp; He shifted his weight, better facing the man but also a little closer to the car door.&nbsp; "Are you with her? That bitch of his wife?&nbsp; Did she ask you to come get his stuff from me?&nbsp; Erase the evidence of what we were to each other?"&nbsp; Had he thought about it, Devon might have realized how easily the widow could frame him for what happened to Brook by playing up the relationship, but that wasn't where his mind was just then. <br><br>He wasn't easily placated, Zela's job wasn't a simple one.&nbsp; But eventually he seemed to believe the man's denial of his accusations, even if his reasons were quite vague.&nbsp; Breathing a sigh, shaking his head dully a letting his gaze shift aimlessly over the dark industrial landscape beyond the windshield, he finally pulled the latch on the door, shouldered it open, and slipped out.&nbsp; He felt like kneeling over and throwing up in the gutter, but he didn't.&nbsp; He dipped down to peer back in to the car at Zela.<br><br>"Will you be coming in?"&nbsp; Devon wasn't averse to the idea.&nbsp; However strange this man might be, Devon knew he didn't want to be alone.&nbsp; Followed or not, he then nudged the door closed and headed to the apartment.&nbsp; It was meticulously clean, decorated in a mix of styles that together landed somewhere between modern and.. eccentric.&nbsp; <br><br>And Brook was everywhere.&nbsp; The book he was reading, the glass he'd drunk from when they'd stopped by here after lunch, his things in the bathroom, and his clothes in the closet.&nbsp; Devon stared at those for a long time before he dumped a few magazines out on his neatly made bed and used the crate they'd been in to start neatly folding Brook's stuff and tucking them away inside it.&nbsp; He was stoic, though he didn't cry.&nbsp; Until he found the letter. <br><br>It was opened and read as he sat on the edge of the bed.&nbsp; His features morphed between teary sadness, blank confusion, and hurt.&nbsp; So many questions.. when had it been written?.. <em>why</em> had it been written?.. what were the secrets Brook hinted at but did not reveal?&nbsp; In the end, of course, he realized that no amount of staring at the letter, re-reading it- and repeating those questions in his head would get them answered.&nbsp; He sat with it for a long time, able to smell Brook's scent from his clothes in the box beside him, clinging to the love he could feel in the simple words, then he rose to give Zela what he'd come for.&nbsp; <br><br>The clothes, the toiletries collected from the bathroom.&nbsp; That was all he was willing to give up.&nbsp; He knew there were various other things scattered around the place, pieces of Brook's secret life with Devon, and they would stay. He needed them to be around him.&nbsp; Calm tears had streamed regularly down his cheeks as he'd collected these things, and his eyes were red as he delivered the box to Zela.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>15-11-2008, 20:54:09</strong>
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				<em>Hypothesis 4 : After a certain amount of time, stasis will become of such long periods, that it is possible the subject actually dies. <br>Status: Unverified, but very possibly true. <br></em><br>Zela gave a nod, and joined him in the door opening, not really daring to thread beyond that line and into the room. It just aired Brook, even he noticed, and it was strange to peek into Brook's personal life. Sure, he'd seen the seventeen-year-old grow into a man, nearly seeing him daily, but after work, they parted ways. Him and Michael would hang out, but that was not unusual. They had been friends longer than they themselves could remember. <br><br>A discrete but audible ringing sound alerted him of a phone call, and he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he moved back and away from the room, to take it. <br><br>"Quand on parle du loup..." He muttered, seeing it was Michael, the person he had just thought about. He answered it, and just listened. <br>"Okay... Stable?" He avoided using terms that could be related to Brook directly. "Very well. Yes. I've seen Vicky. And the boy." He glanced over to Devon, a little mistake, but he probably already knew he was being mentioned. It didn't matter. "I'll be sure to relay that." He said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. <br><br>"Mr Stephens is inviting you to stay at his house, for the time being. Much like me, he's concerned for your safety, seeing as miss Blankenstein hasn't been taken into custody yet." A little white lie, but he didn't care. The safety issue did play a role in what he thought - and thus most likely, also in what Michael thought. <br><br><em>Brook's stable... And in the basement under the house where Michael wants to shelter the boy.</em> He wondered - no. He knew his friend knew the risks of that...But also the risks of Vicky on the loose. Brook's will to live would be severely diminished if Devon died at her hands, or was driven to suicide. And that was something they couldn't add to the pile of variables. <br><br>Years of research, money and hardship had gone into the project, and although Zela knew Michael loved his son, he knew that many a time he'd put the research first. The marriage between Brook and Vick being the main example of that. Still, when Zela left him enough time, Michael always came round to realizing what he had done, and tried to make it up as best he could. <br><br>*****<br><br>Brook wasn't quite awake yet - but his cranial matter had recovered enough to do so. Michael noted it mentally, freshening the bandages around his son's head. He'd probably done it about five times in the last few hours, possibly because he was being too absent minded to remember if he had changed them or not. Or it was the strange sort of satisfaction he felt seeing his son's wound healing, having made very visible progress every time he unwrapped the bandages. <br><br>Carefully he tucked a stray blonde lock away, away from the wound. A large portion of the hair on the back of his head had been shaven away so they could clean the wound, take out the bullet, and let it heal as properly as possible. The bullet was put in a plastic little container, worthless as evidence. It sort of enraged him, but Michael's righteous mind also was unable to see it as murder. Shaking his head, he finished bandaging Brook's head, leaving it to be pretty much covered completely except for the nose and mouth, where an oxygen mask provided very much needed oxygen. The rest of him was tucked under the blankets of the hospital bed, his arm resting on top of the white sheets - a white cast on further white. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>16-11-2008, 09:09:30</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				At the sound of the ringer, Devon gave a slight nod and left Zela in the elevator alcove with the box of Brook's things.&nbsp; As he rented the entire upper level of the building, the elevator came right up in to his apartment.&nbsp; Devon wandered away, finding himself in the kitchen and robotically going through the motions of getting himself a bottled water from the refrigerator.&nbsp; He was typically a gracious host, though he'd neither insisted that Zela come in nor offered him any sort of refreshment.&nbsp; Chalk it up to having a bit of an off night. <br><br>The fridge was haunted, too. Full of a lot of things that Brook liked to eat.&nbsp; That bitch-wife of his never let him keep any of the stuff he liked at home.&nbsp; She stocked their refrigerator with wheat grass and soy products that were barely edible to anyone other than a cold-blooded wasp queen.&nbsp; He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the kitchen window and grimaced at his blood-sullied scrubs, long-sleeved white undershirt, and the ghost of blood on his face.&nbsp; Nevermind how haggard the face beneath the stain was.&nbsp; But before he went about making himself look a little less like a zombie, he grabbed a bottle of extra strength painkiller.. Brook got weird headaches sometimes.. from the vitamin cabinet and took a couple over the recommended dosage.&nbsp; With all of the other substances swimming around in his blood tonight, he didn't figure he could make it much worse. <br><br>Zela was off the phone by the time Devon shambled back in to the living room, and the posed invitation caught him mid-sip from the bottle.&nbsp; He swallowed, thinking, realizing how awkward it would be to meet Brook's father right now.&nbsp; Did his father know about them?&nbsp; As far as Devon knew, he was a much of a secret as Brook was to him.&nbsp; But he must know, if he was inviting Devon to stay.&nbsp; The problem was too complex to work out at the moment, anything would be if he focused to hard.&nbsp; Uncharacteristic of him, he decided to pass the reins of his life over to someone else for a little while.&nbsp; He was about to shut down again, he could feel it.<br><br>"Mind if I shower and change before we go anywhere?&nbsp; Won't be long."&nbsp; Before waiting for an answer, he made to leave the room.&nbsp; Though first gestured toward where a pair of comfortable looking suede couches and deep armchairs were situated.&nbsp; He was about to say his usual; 'Make yourself at home', remembered saying those words to Brook the first time he came here, and bit them off with a visible tightening of his jaw.&nbsp; He turned and went to his bathroom, shucking the scrubs once he was out of Zela's line of sight. He bundled them up and stuffed them in the trash.&nbsp; He didn't want to see them again.<br><br>Ten minutes later he was clean, wet, and freshly dressed.&nbsp; He'd gathered the bathroom trash bag, knotted it, and dropped it down the garbage chute near the elevator.&nbsp; He'd also packed a duffle bag and put a call in to the hospital, making his 'temporary' leave of absence official.&nbsp; That hadn't been easy.&nbsp; There were a lot of questions to answer, but fortunately they hadn't stuck him on the phone with Brockridge as he feared they might.&nbsp; He hoped the man was out pursuing an arrest warrant for the wife.&nbsp; Eh, wish in one hand.. <br><br>Shouldering his bag, he gave a last look around the apartment.&nbsp; He'd miss the influences of Brook here, both wanting to be close to them and also seeing the wisdom in having some time away from them.&nbsp; ..Though going to Brook's father's home might not make things better on that account.&nbsp; He was too tired to consider his options.&nbsp; Reins to Zela. He followed, and they were no more than a few minutes in the car before his head canted over against the window, eyes closed, breathing the slow rhythmic respiration of exhaustive sleep. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>16-11-2008, 12:00:45</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 5: It is technically possible to survive a stasis spell without life supporting equipment. <br>Status: Proven. </em><br><br>In the lab under the mansion, the core team - or the original Vaccine scientists - were monitoring Brook's vitals. The team consisted of Zela, a younger female scientist named Robertson, and Michael himself of course. Over time, the team's size had diminished, as scientists got bored with the lack of progress and joined the other teams that were studying the further developments of Vaccine. Michael made sure that every time he saw a possible improvement, he would pass it on, but the lack of success had made the government anxious. Was the man hiding something? Or was his work just a giant fraud? <br><br>But now, the ministry of Defence saw their money well-spent. Regular updates to only the higher government officials in the lab showed that there was hope, and that soon they would have to rethink if the other teams were still necessary.&nbsp; Maybe the top group of scientists that had the lead over every group would be asked to join the core group, with the rest having to flow off to other labs to develop side-products. <br><br>Michael didn't care for all of this right now. His son was recovering, but there was an offer from the officials that worried him. In trade for the permission to start marketing the first version Vaccine, they would grant Brook a new identity, to start his life over in any country he wished, and the promise the bullet would be accepted as evidence, and his wife convicted. <br><br>Of course Michael wished the best for his son... And to leave him dwelling in a laboratory basement away from sunlight because he was officially dead -&nbsp; no. He shook his head. The core team would have to move with Brook, but that was no problem. The necessities of their study fitted in an RV, and the rest were things that weren't exactly hard to get. <br><br>Finally, Michael got out of the seat next to Brook's bed, and nodded to the government's messenger. "Tell them they can go ahead. As long as they do not show Brook's name, or any image of him." He took a deep breath, feeling it was less than moral to give up his work half finished. Of course they'd be able to work on developing it further, but even for a first attempt, Vaccine was less than desirable. "I'll give up any reports, and you can go right ahead." <br><br>Vaccine would probably be sent of to a university lab, where they would set it in motion. Absent minded scientist works together with government to create the greatest drug ever. He could already see the protests, people calling it unnatural, people resenting the high price it would bear - both financially and physically - to be immortal. <br><br>*****<br><br>Zela lead the other male to the car, and drove off. He was glad Devon hadn't fired too many questions, since he wasn't at liberty to say much. It was natural Michael knew everything about his son - if you know the most common side effect is to drop dead without as much as a minute's warning, it was necessary he knew where Brook was every minute of the day. They had even considered a tracker, but found it would be too easily discovered, even if it was just a weird little sub dermal bump.&nbsp; At the end of the day though, it would have prevented the trauma Devon had undergone. <br><br>The gates of the mansion opened up swiftly and closed again. The whole place was surprisingly well guarded for how run down it looked, but that was only because of the labs. The house itself had a normal alarm, while the basement's door that lead to the labs needed three entry codes.<br><br>Zela stopped in front of the door, and gently woke Devon up. "Go right up ahead... Michael's expecting you." He said, nodding to the door that was discretely opened by a servant. "I'll just go park the car." It was best Devon didn't see the "car park" where every scientist working here put his car, lest he grew suspicious about where all those people were and what they were doing. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>17-11-2008, 17:49:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				His eyes had opened as the car slowed down, and he heard the subtle whir of the electronic gates over the purr of the car's engine.&nbsp; Craning his head back, he could see the wrought iron swinging shut in the red glow of the tail lights.&nbsp; Looking forward then, he saw the mansion.&nbsp; He'd expected one of those lovely towering town townhouses that took up a chunk of a city block.&nbsp; He'd known even before opening his eyes that they'd been driving awhile, and now this estate replete with deep grounds and private road-like driveways confirmed it.&nbsp; Devon was more than impressed, he was intimidated.. and a little apprehensive.&nbsp; He could be an hour out in to the country, for all he knew, with no real idea of where he was.&nbsp; Zela could still be lying about who he was and what his intentions were.<br><br>Even on a good day, Devon was not a suspicious or paranoid person, and the whisperings of such mentality held less ground tonight.&nbsp; Shock had used him up. Even if he'd known Zela's intentions were sinister, he might not have done much to get out of his keeping. The fight in him was near nil.&nbsp; He nodded to Zela, turning to get his bag from the back seat and shouldering it as he slipped from the car and shut the door.&nbsp; He only stood looking up at the house for a moment before moving forward to the beckoning rectangle of light that was the door, framing the silhouette of the person who'd opened it.<br><br>"I'm Devon Ryland."&nbsp; He said to the servant upon entering because it seemed appropriate to do so, looking dull-eyed around the foyer and the house beyond it.&nbsp; "I think Mr. Stephens is expecting me.."&nbsp; Weirdness was just par for the course, tonight.&nbsp; Had nothing else happened to him this evening, finding himself standing in Brook's father's house still would have seemed surreal.&nbsp; To be there because Brook had been killed made it both surreal and awkward.&nbsp; <br><br>At least he was no longer wearing his blood-soiled scrubs, having freshly dressed in boots, jeans, a t-shirt and jacket before he left.&nbsp; His face, handsomely Greco-Roman as his looks leaned more toward his mother's side of the family, was quite more haggard than usual, his medium-brown eyes sad and red-rimmed.&nbsp; His nicely tousled black hair a bit out of sorts with the small shaved patch on the left side, centered by the sutured cut, though fortunately the locks were long enough to mostly disguise it. He combed a hand back through it now, the loose waves still a little damp from his shower, and self-consciously tugged at the hem of the t-shirt he wore.&nbsp; Amazing that he could be nervous about meeting this man, with everything else going on.&nbsp; He wasn't generally an uneasy person, but ever since that really bad experience back in school, the parents of someone he cared about accusing him of tainting their precious offspring, he'd never been good with meeting parents for the first time.&nbsp; It always put him right back at that moment, uncomfortable as a timid sixteen year old.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>17-11-2008, 18:56:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 6: Bi annual injections of the Vaccine are needed to keep the subject functioning. Without them, the subject could end up in permanent stasis. Consequentially, injecting a concentrated form of the vaccine is sufficient to get the subject to wake from stasis. <br>Status: True.</em><br><br>Devon was lead through a hallway, to the library. Michael just resurfaced from the lab, making sure to close the door behind him before going into the study, bringing a cold draft from the lab with him into the warm house. "Ah, mr. Ryland. I'm glad to finally meet you." He said, looking distracted, if not as distracted as a father who just lost his son would be. Raised a truth and fact loving scientist, he had no desire to even know how to lie or act. <br><br>He stripped his hands of the rubber gloves he had left on in a forgetful moment behind his back before extending his hand. "Call me Michael, please." He nodded, waiting for the hand to be shaken than sat down. "I do apologize for the fact I know more about you than you know about me, but my son and I are working together quite closely..." He said nothing more, looking up as the same servant brought in a platter of cookies, sandwiches, a large jug of coffee, and a teapot. <br><br>Zela followed, entering the study too. It was nicely decorated, in a lavish but not too baroque style, that showed the scientist had taste, but not really the mind set to keep his mind on decorating long. Still it looked strangely balanced, and the whole house had certainly had enjoyed the touch of a woman. <br><br>"Ah, Zela. You've met Devon." Michael said to make sure. <br><br>Zela nodded, and sat down on a couch, pouring himself some tea. "Oh, where are my manners. Coffee or tea gentlemen?" <br><br>Michael gave Zela a little look of annoyance. The youth wasn't here to play tea party with them, he certainly didn't look in the mood too.<br><br>"Brook has told me you are a medical examiner, mr Ryland. Have you ever considered a career in private research?" Though their research would become less than private, with the media that would swarm on top of it, Michael knew Brook would never give up the work in their own lab. He couldn't blame him. If anything, he could just improve the Vaccine to make his own life easier. And if he did go beyond that and perfected Vaccine, it would be a world revelation. Brook would never become a spokesperson for their research though. He would lead it, but his face on the tv would pose a much too great risk. So he would have to hire someone that he trusted, and secretly, Michael was considering Devon. The two got along, Devon had the needed experience and credentials, and there would be trust between them.&nbsp; <br><br>There was no tv in the room. Michael had it removed, knowing sooner or later the news would hit the news stations. He would know how the world reacted when the crowds were pounding at the gates. In his mind, a modern day equivalent of the angry mob scene from the movie Frankenstein was a grim possibility. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>17-11-2008, 22:06:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A sterile, antiseptic scent clung to Michael from the medical lab, though it was a smell Devon was so accustomed to that he didn't even register it.&nbsp; It smelled like all hospitals do.&nbsp; What he was focused on was Michael, and his resemblance to Brook.&nbsp; It was another knife in his heart, just when he thought it couldn't hurt any worse.&nbsp; <br><br>"Likewise, sir."&nbsp; His handshake was firm, it was a habit not even grief could render away.&nbsp; He was a little more at ease, Michael's eyes weren't hard or accusing.&nbsp; Devon didn't even know then the amount guilt he harbored inside himself for what happened to Brook, feeling like the catalyst.&nbsp; He found himself wondering instead about how long Mr. Stephens had known about his son's lover.&nbsp; Though tempted to ask, he didn't.&nbsp; He let Mr. Stephens talk.<br><br>He sat across from Michael, taking in the study as the servant delivered the refreshments though he didn't so much as glance at them.&nbsp; He declined Zela's offer with a shake of his head.&nbsp; Anything introduced to his stomach just now likely wouldn't have time to get comfy there.&nbsp; He was dying for a cig, though, but didn't smoke in his own home much less someone else's.&nbsp; When Michael spoke again, he had Devon's full attention.&nbsp; The young medical examiner frowned a little at the mention of his work, and something from Brook's note passed through his mind.&nbsp; <em>'...get into writing that book you wanted to write. Take a rest. Why you ask?...' </em><br><br>It felt connected. Why else would Michael ask such a question at a time like this.&nbsp; And something else Michael had said nagged at him, resurfacing in that moment of introspection. <em>"...my son and I are working together quite closely..."</em>&nbsp; As far as what these things added up to, Devon couldn't imagine.&nbsp; His mind was already on overload, and the quite likely possibility that he was making something of nothing, hearing things wrong, was the most probable answer. <br><br>"I um.."&nbsp; He shook his head a little, dazed, trying to make himself focus and give something resembling an answer to the man who'd just lost his son.&nbsp; "Possibly, yes, later in life.&nbsp; And please, call me Devon."&nbsp; He knew the fat salaries that research scientists earned, and it was a branch of medicine that interested him.&nbsp; One of the reasons he and Brook had hit it off so well, they'd had a lot to talk about. Even though Brook had never revealed his endeavors with his father, the field in general was large enough to accommodate nonspecific conversations, discussions of advances that had been released to the media, the miracles of modern science. <br><br>"I'm sorry sir, Michael, I'm just.. a little lost at the moment."&nbsp; He managed a weak smile, knowing the man would understand.&nbsp; "I should offer my condolences.&nbsp; Brook was so special."&nbsp; His voice caught a little, but he had a hold of himself. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>17-11-2008, 22:29:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 7: A faint heartbeat remains in the subject, whether in stasis or after lethal trauma. The frequency of it is so low it cannot be picked up by regular heart rate monitors. <br>Status: True. </em><br><br>Michael didn't quite feel at ease. It felt... Set up. He had no reason in entertaining the young man now he had asked him the question and allowed him time to think about it. If he had dropped hints towards what was going on under the mansion, he was unaware, as he had no reason to drop this onto Devon in a time like this. <br><br>The servant slipped in again, passing Michael a note, of which the contents seemed to surprise the older man. Closing his eyes a moment, he folded the piece of paper, and put it away carefully. <br><br>"I'm afraid I'll have to leave you. You're free to pick any room on the second floor should you wish to go to sleep. There's name plates on the ones that are taken." <br><br>Brook had had his place in so many houses: Vicky's, Devon's, and also his father's. He didn't possess much, just enough to claim his place in those households, and to keep his presence there. <br><br>Zela got up as Michael slipped him the note and wished him a good night. He didn't read it, but rather put it away, having a pretty good clue it was about Brook. Only news from his son would get Michael to run from a social event like this, even if it being a somewhat awkward one hadn't helped. <br><br>"You'll have to excuse him. It's kind of a ... Hard day for him personally and professionally." Zela's smooth voice explained. <br><br>*****<br><br>The good news had been that Brook was breathing independently again. Only the bandages, a specially adjusted heart rate monitor, a brainwave monitor, and a feeding tube remained. The heart beat was slowly speeding up - over the past hour it had gone from six slow but potent beats a minute to ten, and would probably increase over the night as his internal organs paced up to the normal pace again. <br><br>Michael sighed relieved. In a room next to Brook's improvisatory quarter in the lab, there was a&nbsp; tv playing. Eyes closed, Michael heard about how he was becoming a medical celebrity, and couldn't care less. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>17-11-2008, 22:46:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Devon rose a moment after Michael, nodding and making a lame attempt to thank him for his hospitality which came out stuttered and strange as the man hurried from the room.&nbsp; He couldn't put in to words how much he needed people then, even if they were strangers.&nbsp; These people had loved and cared about Brook, and that was really all that mattered.&nbsp; Zela's appearance had also provided a fortuitous distraction; Vicky was far from Devon's mind.&nbsp; Had he been alone, stewing about what she'd done to his man, he'd probably be arrested by morning for trying to strangle the life out of her hateful face.<br><br>"Of course.&nbsp; I can't imagine what it must be like.."&nbsp; He was still gazing at the door Michael had disappeared through, then he picked up his bag.&nbsp; "Would you mind pointing me to the rooms?&nbsp; I probably won't sleep, but I'd like to lie down.."&nbsp; It was amazing his legs were still holding him up, they felt as weak as the rest of him.&nbsp; But he made it up the stairs, thanking and saying goodnight to Zela, then left alone to ponder how strange it was that this floor was labeled off like a college dormitory, rooms bearing the names of those that had claimed them.&nbsp; Why would so many people need permanent accommodations here?<br><br>Devon didn't ponder that long. He found an unoccupied room, dropped his bag and shucked his shoes, and lay diagonally across the bed without bothering to turn down the covers.&nbsp; Sleep wouldn't come, of course.&nbsp; Far too many things on his mind, weighing on his heart.&nbsp; In the dark shadows of the ceiling over the bed he saw Brook's face, heard his voice in the quiet corners.&nbsp; Devon rolled on to his side, covered his face with his hands, and wept without being interrupted for the first time that night.&nbsp; At some point, the tears carried him in to an unlikely and deep sleep.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>17-11-2008, 23:06:41</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 8: There is no certainty about how much damage the regeneration can heal up, and what happens if the body is just too badly damaged. <br>Hypothesis: Disputed. </em><br><br>It was five in the morning when May Robertson started her shift. She came from a room in the mansion, actually near the one Devon slept in, and took a shower. It was very kind of Michael to let the scientists sleep in the mansion rather than the more uncomfortable lab, she felt, so she thanked him by being fast and quiet about her business. After a cup of coffee and some hurriedly toasted slices of bread later she was already tapping in the code, and disappearing into the lab, swinging on a lab coat. <br><br>"Morning." She tried to sound happily as she entered Brook's room. "We're celebrities now. Well, your dad is. They'll probably find me and Zela later. You get to stay nice and hidden from the world from now." She closed her eyes as she walked up to him, trying not to look at his bandaged face. Even if he wasn't death, it had still been a close call, and she didn't want to think of a friend of 8 years dying on her. <br><br>"Anyway. The first protesters and the fans are at the gates already. It's kind of spooky to see. I'm glad I stayed the night, there's no coming through it! There won't be many people able to come in if Michael doesn't call the cops on them. It's a pretty amazing thing though..." She checked his heartrate, which was now at a steady 40 beats a minute. "Some are actually begging to get the Vaccine." She cast a sad look down, knowing his bandaged eyes kept him from seeing her face anyway. <br><br>"Oh well. I guess you'll wake up any day now. I'll be back in a bit to refresh those bandages." <br><br>*****<br><br>A floor up, the few scientists that were dripping in were in the large kitchen having breakfast. There were whispered conversations, and some louder, about the madness outdoors. None of them had expected their research to be this spectacular in following. <br>"Really, I thought everyone would think it was a hoax!" <br>"The government's selecting some of the volunteers to be the next Brook, you know." <br>"They're really going to try and put a human being through that again? When they know the effects already?" <br>"Well, technically they don't. Michael hasn't given up those files yet, and I wouldn't either." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 00:14:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Devon was typically a light and restless sleeper.&nbsp; His nights curled against Brook had been his best sleep, so it was no wonder that he woke from a deep rest by reaching out his arm to find his lover, seeking to take reassurance from his presence, and be a little wickedly content to know that he hadn't gone home to his wife during the night.&nbsp; <br><br>Feeling only a cool and empty expanse of bedclothes, the texture of them unfamiliar, he became aware of the itchy ache in his eyes and the sharp pain behind his left temple.&nbsp; Then he remembered everything.&nbsp; He lay there, tears quiet for now.. he'd been loud enough last night in his weeping to account for at least a few days' worth.. and reacquainted himself with the ugly truth of things.&nbsp; It was not going to be a good day.<br><br>Somehow, he managed to get up anyway.&nbsp; He discovered his room was more like a suite, with it's own bathroom, and went about the morning's tasks, ending with changing into a fresh set of clothes.&nbsp; He didn't look out the windows.&nbsp; That was Brook's thing.&nbsp; "Gonna be rain today. Bring your umbrella." Or "Nice and sunny.&nbsp; Maybe we'll go to the park at lunch?"&nbsp; Today the weather didn't matter.&nbsp; He planned to be a terrible house guest and hide in his room all day.&nbsp; Though he could do with a little breakfast and a smoke outside before he entombed himself.&nbsp; <br><br>The hall was deserted, and he traversed it and the stairs as he pulled on his jacket, checked for the familiar lumps of his cigarettes and lighter in his pocket, trying not to think about how he dreaded using the lighter as it had been a gift from Brook, engraved with the date when they'd met and the same insignia of the coffee shop that they'd tattooed over their hearts.&nbsp; Maybe there would be matches in the kitchen.<br><br>As it happened, there were people in the kitchen.&nbsp; There were people outside, too. As he'd passed through the house en route to where the smell of breakfast drew him, he'd seen through a window the mob of people down by the gates.&nbsp; What was that all about?&nbsp; Approaching the door, nobody aware of his presence, he heard the group in the kitchen discussing it.&nbsp; And he stopped in his tracks.&nbsp; <br><br>He leaned a hand against the wall, standing a foot or so from where the kitchen door was ajar.&nbsp; No.. he couldn't have heard what he thought he did.&nbsp; Brows knitting, he leaned a little closer, attuning his ears, and wondering why his heart was suddenly beating so fast. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 07:48:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The four looked up when Devon ended. "Fuck." They weren't allowed to discuss these things when unknown people were around - but none of them had known Michael would take the man in. Instead of even taking the time to explain they scattered, the main one going to the lab's entrance on the basement level. <br><br>His hands didn't even tremble as he punched in the code, but he did curse himself. How much had this guy heard? He would have to talk to Michael about this little incident. and he would certainly not be happy. There had been no question that Devon should be told about all of this before the moment Brook woke up - to do it before then was to give false hope. <br><br>Though Brook was making progress, he was still just in a stasis, and there was no telling if it was a permanent one, or not. Most hoped not of course - or the people already saving up to get Vaccine would get a horrible little surprise if they were stupid enough to try it. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 09:41:04</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Spotted, he withdrew a bit from the door by instinct.&nbsp; Stupid behavior, yes, to shy away when he hadn't <em>really</em> inteded to spy.&nbsp; Just overheard.. He exhaled a low expletive much like their greeting, and moved back through the door.<br><br>"I just-"&nbsp; But they were gone, or getting there, having turned tail and scurried.&nbsp; What were all of those people doing here, anyway?&nbsp; They weren't dressed like household staff. They hadn't all assumed a notable uniform, though hadn't he seen a lab coat or two.. <br><br>He backed out of the door again, retracing his steps down the hall to see if he could spot where the first guy had gone to.&nbsp; He heard something strange, a beeping and a the slow squeal of a door falling shut, but couldn't catch sight of where the guy had gotten to before all evidence of his passage was gone.&nbsp; <br><br>Outside, another news van joined the mob at the gates, the sunlight winking off of the windshield and slanting in through one of the front windows to catch Devon's eye.&nbsp; Curious, and finding no answers inside, Devon began toward the front door.&nbsp; Some of the people were holding signs, but he couldn't make out what they said.&nbsp; Perhaps if he got closer..
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 14:19:09</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 9: Upon first administration of the Vaccine, stasis will occur, for about an hour. <br>Status: Proven. </em><br><br>Outside, one particularly loud fellow was making his opinion heard. Long hair, rugged and big, he looked like a crossing between Jesus and a Hell's Angel, a description that was equally fitting for his words. By far the most flamboyant of the group, Michael actually bothered to follow his reasoning for a moment. <br><br>"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh! So it is written in the tale of Job! Will you really let these people take over the holy work of our Saviour and Creator? Will you let them do what they will to human life?!" <br><br>He had about as much of a sympathetic crowd than what seemed to be the other side of the "debate": people holding up signs with texts, sometimes as sad as "Pick me as a subject! I'm a terminally ill mother of three!". And in between, a group of people with enough common sense to not follow either the fans nor the fundamentalists, protested in their own way by dressing up as zombies and nipping at eachother. <br><br>Michael looked through the window in the living room, shaking his head sadly. "Look at them. Not exactly what I started my career in science for." He didn't look at Devon, but it did seem to be addressed to him. "The whole world knows now. So I figure it's just fair to tell you what Brook is keeping busy with, too." He looked at Devon this time, tearing himself away from the window. "Jen, if you'd be so kind to turn on the alarm. I wouldn't want any of those people entering our domicile." <br><br>The servant gave a little nod and moved to the alarm console near the door swiftly. <br><br>Michael beckoned Devon closer. "Come on, I'll show you the labs. We really hadn't meant to show you before he woke up, but..." Michael shrugged. It was better for him to hear from his almost father in law than from a complete stranger on the tv, although the media would only mention Michael, not Brook. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 15:50:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sound of Michael's voice stopped Devon before he could reach the door, and he turned to regard the solemn-looking man standing near one of the large frontroom windows.&nbsp; Not sure why he felt the need to be cautious, Devon nevertheless approached at a slow pace to stand near and slightly behind Brook's father, looking past him out the window and to the mob.&nbsp; He could hear most of what they were saying, read the signs, see the silent and theatrical protesters.&nbsp; A queasy chill originated in his spine and crept through his nerves.&nbsp; <br><br>His clear brown eyes regarded Micheal, widening with that chill he felt.&nbsp; The oddest mix of emotions was in them, without words they pleaded with Michael not to say what he feared was coming, and at the same time begged him to continue.&nbsp; It was dawning on him, and though he wanted more than anything to have Brook alive and well in his arms again, to think of him not truly being-&nbsp; The way he'd looked on the slab-&nbsp; A heavy dark curtain separated Devon from the completion of those thoughts.&nbsp; His was still a logical and clinical mind, perhaps lacking a bit of the imagination that drove the Stephens men.&nbsp; <br><br>Approaching dazedly, watching Michael with an expression that gradually softened and threatened to break.&nbsp; This was nearing a place he was going to have trouble finding foot in.&nbsp; He didn't say anything yet, he quite likely couldn't have, he gave a glance back toward the crowd on the street then followed Michael.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 16:08:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 10: Any damage inflicted during stasis will automatically be healed by the speedy regeneration. <br>Status: Not proven as of yet. <br></em><br>Michael took a deep breath, giving a little more truthful version of what they were doing than the media would find. "We started nine years ago. Me and Zela. Robinson joined a year later. We were working on something that seemed a dream back then, but grew into a reality." He moved to the little number pad, and tapped in the entry code, the door to the modern lab sliding open. <br><br>"Brook wanted to be a part, though he was only 17 at the time, and had no medical knowledge yet. He volunteered to be a subject, knowing fully well what that meant." <br><br>Robertson looked up when the two entered. "Devon, meet May. May, Devon." He introduced them quickly, before turning back to Devon. <br><br>"If you go beyond, you'll be a part of this. There'll be no going back." Michael looked to him. Devon would have to move with them, be able to leave his life behind to pretty much live his life in the lab, but Michael figured that he'd rather have that than to live without Brook.<br><br>"You can have a moment to decide, of course. Would you like to see Brook?" Michael asked. His look was a somewhat softer, friendlier one. <br><br>"He hasn't woke up yet, though. But all the signs are pointing to it that he soon will." May added, leaning back against a counter, then turned to look at Michael. "Here you go sir." She handed him a report. "Basically, it says that since around an hour ago, blood pressure, brain wave pattern, and heartbeat went back to a normal level." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>20-11-2008, 17:25:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Devon saw the hall, the door, the keypad Michael touched.&nbsp; But his mind was in a different place, a lightless space where only Michael's voice reached through and began to paint new things on the blank, empty canvases that were the Real.&nbsp; Wonderful new things. Frightening things.&nbsp; Devon allowed the knowledge entry because at the heart of it was hope; hope that Brook was alive.<br><br>But what kind of life would it be?&nbsp; Had they simply reanimated his battered corpse, made a zombie of him?&nbsp; Or was there regeneration?&nbsp; What speed of regeneration?&nbsp; What were the side effects? The dangers?&nbsp; All modern medical marvels had those things.&nbsp; Sometimes, despite how thrilling and seemingly beneficial a creation was, it's side effects.. those broken shards, remnants, diabolical atoms that were the shrapnel of a human hand taken to the intricacy of nature.. made it a monstrosity.&nbsp; <br><br>He was being introduced.&nbsp; His intelligent eyes swam in to focus, his brow relaxed from the focused frown.&nbsp; Though he didn't yet smile.&nbsp; He tried to look at May, to be polite, but found his gaze creeping away, scanning for where Brook might be.&nbsp; Michael had not outright said, yet, that Brook was here. And if here, anything other than dead.&nbsp; Devon was torn between the desire for Brook to be alive, to have another moment with him be it a single second or the beginning of a lifetime.. and the hope that Brook had not made a lab rat of himself, taken such risks.&nbsp; But if it had saved him...<br><br>Michael's voice again, and his intense eyes upon Devon's.&nbsp; About to agree, to forfeit his right to a few minutes of thinking it over, if for no other reason than to carry on the work that Brook had loved, he was unprepared for the next question.&nbsp; <br><br>So there it was. Confirmation.&nbsp; <em>'Would you like to see Brook?'</em>&nbsp; How could he tell this man that he would rather gouge his eyes out than see Brook as Brook had been when last he saw him.&nbsp; But it was one of those questions that answered itself, voice hoarse and eyes wet.<br><br>"Yes."&nbsp; <em>'..hasn't woken up yet..'&nbsp; Yet</em>&nbsp; He remembered the horrid redecorating the bullet had done on Brook's face. The ragged red hole, flecked with bone and gray tissue, in his misshapen head.&nbsp; Queasiness resurfaced, bringing the threat of lightheadedness with it.&nbsp; Suddenly, though, there was a reason to be stronger than he'd been during the last several hours.&nbsp; If Brook really was coming back to the world, he would need Devon with him. <br><br>He heard May, but he was already leaving the room, moving with the quiet awareness typically displayed by one passing through a place of worship or in a ward of the terminally ill.&nbsp; He wasn't a bull about it, didn't stomp and storm or run or bang down doors, but he did mean to find Brook.&nbsp; Right now.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>20-11-2008, 17:37:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Silently, May nodded to Michael, then joined Devon. "This way." She said softly, taking him to a room a few doors down, and opening it up with a keycode that had been installed so nobody would disturb him unnecessarily. <br><br>There he was. Steadily breathing, a serene heartbeat - it looked as if nothing could ever disrupt him. <br><br>May scraped her throat softly. "I was um. Just about to change the bandages." She moved to the bed, and gently lifted Brook's head, starting to unravel the bandages. It had no fresh spots of blood, so what she saw confirmed what she had thought: The wound had healed leaving nothing but a dark scar, and although Brook had his eyes closed still, she knew he would soon wake up. <br><br>"There are a few side effects to all of this of course..." May threw the bandages away, checking the back of his head. No trace of the wound was left on either side, so with a content look, she laid his head back down. Saying nothing to him like she usually would, cause it felt a little strange to do so with Devon in the room. She pulled up a chair for him to sit in, and walked to the door, hesitating as she passed Devon.<br><br>"I'll give you a moment. Oh, and he can hear you." She could see all of this had been overwhelming, and slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar for if he would want to leave. <br><br>Brook could feel it - it was like coming up after a deep dive. Slowly, all the pressure started to fall away, and the light began to drip through to his mind. His eyelids were still closed, but started to flutter, as his body slowly started up again to leave him in charge of things. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>djin</strong> on <strong>20-11-2008, 18:16:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He let her lead, though was practically on her heels.&nbsp; Once the door was open, however, he hesitated at the threshold.&nbsp; He was bolstering himself for what he might be faced with.&nbsp; No matter Brook's appearance or state of mind, however altered, nothing would change the fact that Devon was and always would be his.&nbsp; His future was in this room. Feeling as ready as he could to embrace, literally and figuratively, what fate had in store for him, he entered the room.<br><br>The effort to sigh in relief and choke back a sob of emotion canceled one another out, and he looked upon Brook with his lips pressed together making no sound at all for some time.&nbsp; May was in his peripheral vision, but Brook was kept center.&nbsp; He took in a breath as the bandage came undone, finding it not unlike the moment when the veil is lifted at a wedding, and let it out thinly.&nbsp; The scar was beautiful.&nbsp; Vicky was so far from his thoughts, that there was no rage when Devon saw the mark she left.&nbsp; He only saw the evidence that there was life in Brook, that he was healing.&nbsp; Seeing the purplish-pink scar, intangible threads began knitting over the gory memories in Devon's mind.&nbsp; He didn't want those back.<br><br>He nodded at May, turned a glance toward her that spoke the immense gratitude he felt, then regarded Brook's serene form upon the bed.&nbsp; He swallowed the bothersome lump in his throat, reminding himself that this was just Brook. His Brook, who needed him right now.<br><br>"Hi babe." He smiled, both because he knew it would convey through his voice and because as he moved closer, the events of the past night retreated further away.&nbsp; Beside the bed, he ignored the chair for now and stood at the edge, gingerly taking up Brook's hand in both of his.&nbsp; <br><br>"You must know how badly I want you back.&nbsp; But take your time baby.. take all the time you need to get strong again."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Conquering Death (Djin &amp; Cthulhu)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cthulhu</strong> on <strong>20-11-2008, 18:37:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Hypothesis 11: Vaccine can keep a person from dying of old age. <br>Status: not proven as of yet. </em><br><br>Brook noticed who was there - it was obvious in how his heart beat sped up oh so subtly. The voice seeped into his mind, banning out the memories. The fight, the gun, the shot, the body bag, the reaction from Devon... It was all so far away now. Only this moment counted, and Devon was holding his hand. Devon, who he had feared would never see again. <br><br>A tear slipped out of his eye, unclear if it was one of happiness or sadness, but probably in between. Maybe now their daydreams could become something real... He hoped so. Having heard about the deal, he hoped Devon was here to join them, to go with him to whichever country they would choose, and start their life again, rather than coming to say goodbye. He doubted he'd feel very motivated to work on anything without Devon near, even if he knew Vicky would be out of his life. <br><br>His sweaty eyelids opened half way, giving a little blink at the bright lights, trying not to let it remind him of the bright autopsy room's overhead lights that had pried through his eyelids. Slowly, his head rolled over to the side, and Devon. <br><br>Bog was he ever a sight for sore eyes. His gorgeous lover, proud and tall, and here for him. It made him feel so lucky, even if the thought of the goodbye was still nagging in his mind. 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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