The Doctor's Results
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Dhi on 23-09-2013, 01:34:41</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>23-09-2013, 01:34:41</strong>
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				<div align="center"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/bf/Dorset.jpg)</td></tr></tbody></table></div><hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b8/Victorian_miriam.jpg)</div>Early that morning Prudence had bid a good day to her landlady, the widow Mrs. Bickersteth, and left the lace doily sensibilities of the boarding house behind. She had slipped unnoticed past the old biddies clucking their tongues at the dollymops in corsets and French skirts down the road. Where Old Montague Street emerged from a maze of little alleys, where the cranes had set down sixty tonnes of smokestack pipe and never lifted it again, there had been a ladybird, a fancier class of prostitute than the dollymops, burning down a cigarette. There had been the blue-and-white emblem of the Metropolitan Police- two manticores rearing before a shield, beneath the crown of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria- emblazoned on the side of a carriage. And Prue had lingered to see if there were a flesh-and-blood policeman, but had seen none.<br><br>There were not many young men left in London. One in seven, some estimates said; one in twelve, the Sheffield Daily Telegraph cried. The war with Germany was a race to annihilation.<br><br>Into a dark archway, down an alley whose cobblestone was scarred with deep water-filled grooves Prudence went. Up a narrow stair, squeezed between the tall brick apartments of Osborn Street, she ascended. Damp laundry hung out to dry on the lines above dripped onto the coffee-colored velvet of her gentlewoman's top hat as she worked the brass knocker. A moment later, the door unlocked with a heavy *thunk*, and the blank metal face of a clockwork butler, goggle-eyed and slot-mouthed, appeared in the crack.<br><br>"Good morning, Ives." A telescopic hand clumsily grasped Prudence's hat as she handed it over. The clockwork butler gave a reedy whistle and stepped aside to let her in. She kissed his metal cheek, though he was only brass and copper and a juddering steam engine that left him loose in his joints. "Good morning, Dr. DuPont," she spoke cheerfully to the shape glimpsed through the beakers and machinery and the glare of a bright surgical lamp repurposed for reading. She turned down the gas valve to cut its eye-searing intensity as she joined the doctor in the lab.<br><br>She pretended that it was no different, to kiss the soft skin of Charlotte DuPont's cheek, than it was to give her automaton a peck. But her lashes batted closed when her lips touched, and her eyes darted away to distract herself with work. It was a good job, working for Dr. DuPont. It was better than Whitechapel afforded most girls, its ladies of the evening. It was noble work, improving the human condition. It was unthinkable to risk that blessing to act on these girlish feelings- everyone had them, didn't they?- a sexual frustration knotted so tight that it simply held her taut form together. It was her job to take dictation, to run errands to the apothecary, to do the work too delicate for Ives, and most importantly, to assist with the subject.<br><br>Justine, that was the name on the dossiers. Prudence was drawn to the glass of the enclosed chamber where she slumbered like Sleeping Beauty, recovering from the previous day's surgery. Her fingers were drawn up to the vignetted glass and bands of brass filigree that lent Justine some modesty, and she touched the steam-powered machinery as gingerly as she would the encased woman's own skin. "Are you awake?" she asked, even though the glass muted all sound. "You must be a very strong woman." Her head tilted to follow the angle of the woman's face, and felt she had witnessed Justine's eyes stirring. She retreated from the glass. It was not appropriate for her to watch the subject as she slept, however professionally necessary it might be.<br><br>"Dr. DuPont, a government man came to the boarding house last night. Mrs. Bickersteth turned him away, per the house rules on gentleman callers. Yet I gathered, from his protest, that he was from the 'eugenics' department of the London Authority." An oiled leather satchel unfastened on her low-slung belt, and she slipped out a dog-eared handbook of the sciences. A glossy fingernail underlined a term. "<em>Eugenics: </em>the doctrine of progress or evolution, especially in the human race, through improved conditions in the relations of the, ah, sexes." A fine brow knit. "I think perhaps this was about your work, here."<br><br>That was when she felt the first tickle in her throat, and hid away her first dainty cough. Was it getting warmer in the lab?
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>24-09-2013, 04:42:12</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/JustinSubject3.jpg)</div>&nbsp; &nbsp; <em> “Justine, you have to reconsider.”<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“No mother, I don’t.&nbsp; I have thought about it and thought about it.&nbsp; I know you won’t say it, but I am a burden.&nbsp; I am infertile.&nbsp; No one will want me for a bride and I do not wish to work in the factories anymore.”<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; “But Justine, you don’t know what will happen.&nbsp; What if something goes wrong.”<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Dr. DuPont is one of the foremost doctor’s in England, mother.”<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Yes, yes…she is brilliant by all accounts, but I have heard rumors.”<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“And that is all they are mother.&nbsp; I am going through with it.&nbsp; I have made my decision.”</em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; In the healing chamber Justine remained in calm repose.&nbsp; Her fingers knitted together below her breasts and above the wide dimples along her lower abdomen.&nbsp; The heads of her new appendages were all that was currently visible of the healing members and did little to take away from the smooth expanse of her lower abdomen.&nbsp; The doctor had done spectacular work.&nbsp; Her body was knitting itself back together after the ordeal of the surgery, the chamber’s fumes stimulating cells and platelets into a frenzy of infection fighting, flesh knitting super surgeons.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <em>Justine sat at the table fidgety and nervous.&nbsp; She had answered an fertility research add in the paper and worked her way through an exhaustive weeding out process only to be cast aside at the end as “not a viable candidate.&nbsp; What did that mean?&nbsp; Not viable.&nbsp; She had cried herself to sleep for the better part of the next week until the telegraph came.&nbsp; “I may have a way to help you.&nbsp; Please meet me at the Oldmire Club tonight at 8:00pm so we can discuss.&nbsp; Dr. Charlotte DuPont.”&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The club was quiet and filled as were most establishments these days with women.&nbsp; There were a few men in the crowd and they were gathering much of the attention, but Charlotte barely noticed.&nbsp; In truth she had noticed more of the women than any of the men, a source of some trepidation to her current predicament.&nbsp; &nbsp;She was here to discuss fertility with a woman she did not know, so she could be married to a man that she could not love.&nbsp; ‘Duty.’ She reminded herself.&nbsp; It was her duty as a woman and a daughter to do this, and her wants were completely secondary.&nbsp; Justine was lost in thought and her glass of absinthe when she walked up, her hair the color of autumn fire, clearly not of Whitechapel was the beautiful woman.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Justine?&nbsp; Hello.&nbsp; I am Dr. DuPont.”</em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Justine’s chest rose and fell in shallow yet even breaths, taking in the healing vapors with every inhalation.&nbsp; There was no pain that etched her features as the opiates made the invasion of needle and knife nothing more than a dull ache in the background of her mind.&nbsp; Justine’s form was slight and her body firm from the work she was forced to do in the factories.&nbsp; Her features however were delicate and her skin pale as porcelain.&nbsp; She looked far more fragile that she really was.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <em> Empty glasses that once contained the emerald fairy’s elixir cluttered the table.&nbsp; The doctor had been surprisingly engaging and able to put much of Justine’s fears to rest.&nbsp; She was able to ease probing questions into their conversation in ways that made Justine completely comfortable answering them.&nbsp; Then there was the gentle touch.&nbsp; A simple brush of hand against her knee, the squeeze of a hand on her thigh when Justine told an off color joke, their heads close together so the other patron couldn’t hear the naughty punch line.&nbsp; Justine gave signals of reception as clear those of the doctor’s interest, a flip of her long golden hair, her hand covering the doctor’s as they laughed…<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“I have one last question Justine and this is most important.”&nbsp; The doctor leaned in close enough for their cheeks to brush and the warmth of the doctor’s breath to wash over her ear.&nbsp; “Would you like to know what it truly feels like to have sex with another woman?”<br></em><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Are you awake?”&nbsp; The words felt like a dream invading a dream, stirring her dream state like a can of multi-colored paint, swirling her memories and fantasies together to coalesce into something else, another phantasm of dream and reality.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>“This is my assistant, Prudence.”<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“It is a pleasure.” Justine greeted the doctor’s platinum haired assistant, trying to hide a blush at the thought of the doctor’s beautiful assistant knowing exactly why she was here and what that potentially said about the type of woman Justine was and would become.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Prudence.&nbsp; Please take Justine in the back so she can disrobe and prep her for the procedure.”&nbsp; Prudence nodded and led her past the chamber the doctor explained would help speed her healing, past the operating theater and to a small room set aside for Justine.&nbsp; The doctor had been kind enough to allow her to bring some of her personal effects and some clothing and had set up a bed as the doctor had told her that she would need to observe her for some time after the procedure to make sure there were no prolonged effects and that everything had gone per design.&nbsp; That thought alone had caused a panic that had almost sent Justine running, but something had kept her legs from moving.&nbsp; There was a primal urge that stirred within her.&nbsp; Was it Darwin’s urge for procreation?&nbsp; Was it the thrill of being included in something momentous?&nbsp; Or was it the carnal thoughts of the good doctor and her lovely assistant and how she might be able to please them in a way no other woman could if they only felt the same attraction she did towards them.&nbsp; Whatever it was she stayed and now Prudence was leading her to a place where she would be stripped and shaved and she knew that despite all of her nerves she would enjoy it.</em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;"You must be a very strong woman."<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Somewhere her mind began to take the first steps towards consciousness.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>01-10-2013, 04:02:18</strong>
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				Dr. Charlotte DuPont was running on very little sleep. That in and of itself of course was not new, unusual or even cause for concern. Indeed likely it would not even be noticed until she began dozing off mid-task as the woman seemed to hold some secret reserve of energy that kept her going tirelessly for what seemed like insanely long stretches of time. However, this time around her lack of sleep was less about progress and being poised on the edge of scientific breakthrough and more about bureaucratic nonsense and lies that she really didn't have time for. <br><br><em>"Time's almost up Charlotte!" Her father hissed looking far more agitated than usual.<br><br>"I am aware of the deadline, father."&nbsp; <br><br>"Are you, girl?! You seem to have forgotten that we are under the thumb of the Authority here. Childish whims have no place in science. These contraptions you build are useless!" Her father was beet red and she thought she detected the scent of spirits on his breath as he insisted on lecturing her as though she was five. His decline had become more apparent in recent months but this... this was just plain sloppy. "They are coming in three days to see what we have, Charlotte. Three. Its time to stop whatever foolishness you have been tinkering with and produce something!"<br><br>"I have produced plenty!" Her voice dared to inch higher in volume, a mere slip what with all the she had been doing and eating and sleeping so little to see to the prep work before the final step was taken on her latest project, and she was quickly reminded of her place when a slap sounded against the backdrop of hissing and whistling machinery. Her head was thrust to the side and her view of the floor blurred as tears filled her gaze. Somewhere a pump decompressed and Charlotte took a breath as the sharp sting settled in, not lifting her head until her vision was once again back to normal. Her face would be sore for a bit but it wouldn't bruise... it never did. <br><br>"It is not enough. These toys you love, the books and journals you covet, the side project to dally in, all the gadgets and gizmos... even that girl you keep to do God knows what with up here," Charles' tone spoke of disgust but the sickening gleam in his eyes, the very same eyes Charlotte saw in the mirror each day, spoke of something else entirely that she cared not to think about, "If they come and there is nothing to show them then we are finished and everything you treasure will be taken from you. Do you hear? All of it. Gone. And you will have nothing to fall back on but whatever wiles your mother might have passed down to you... which is clearly not much seeing as how you haven't a single suitor." </em><br><br>It was always the same. Dr. Charles DuPont, renown scientist and the reason all hope was not lost for the English as they battled against the heavy tide of the Germans. His accomplishments were numerous, his genius unparallelled! He was the a beacon of hope for the English! Charlotte should be proud to even be allowed to study at her father's side, to be privy to even mere scraps of knowledge that he tossed aside. She should count herself lucky that her father provided for her and made sure that she was not relegated to role so many other women had be forced into just to put food in their mouths in the absence of the brave men who marched off to defend English soil...<br><br>Except he was a liar. The great Dr. DuPont was an imposter, a cheater, and a fool. And Charlotte was more than fed up.<br><br>She once had been oh so proud of her father and his innovation and intellect. The then Lady Charlotte had wanted nothing more than to celebrate the great man that her father was and when he had taken her into his lab that very first time as a little girl and showed her the future as he saw it she had been awed and amazed. And so very proud. <br><br>However, truth has a way of sifting to the surface no matter how far one attempts bury it. Imagine then how easy it became to see the truth when her father stopped attempting even that much.<br><br>It was past time for things to change.<br><br>Charlotte looked up absently as the brass knocker sounded at the door to her haven, eyes the color of the greenest grass enlarged even farther than their already doe-ish proportions behind the extended lens of her magnifying goggles. Ives, the clockwork butler who was more friend than machine, wasted no time heading over to answer it and Charlotte stood up from her now uncomfortable hunch over the delicate inner workings of the utility gun she'd designed to be carried by soldiers. This model had been rather heavily modified, though it still retained the standard proportions, and by the time her assistant made her way around to place a soft kiss upon her cheek, Charlotte had slid the last piece into place to be secured. "Morning, darling."<br><br>The feel of Prudence's soft lips and the scent of innocence flirted with her senses as it always did and while other days the good Doctor might have spared time for a hidden glance or two at the lovely young woman, today her mind was too consumed with deadlines to allow for distraction. Her gaze returned to her work and she was vaguely aware of Ives returning to his previous cleaning and Prudence checking in on their guest as she tightened the last bolt in her re-purposed hardware. By her calculation the girl would be waking anytime now and they would need to observe her closely for a few hours to be sure the surgery was not rejected. Pending success, Charlotte would be able to begin the battery of tests to ensure functionality as well but she would wait until they'd gotten to that point lest her brain surge off to ponder possibility far too soon. The time for daydreaming had passed unfortunately. Action and results were what was needed now and that required her focus.<br><br>Setting aside her tools the Doctor pushed her goggles up onto her head. As she'd forgotten to retract the lenses to avoid damage they looked like thick, metallic horns perched upon her head but as there was already a smudge of something on her chin it was clear that her appearance was the least of her worries as she approached Prudence. Eyes wide she regarded the young woman with surprise as she spoke of a late night visitor but the reason for it was more due to the fact that they had gone to see Prudence than that they had come at all. <br><br>"Eugenics? Well, yes... I suppose it could be." Charlotte nodded, her hair flopping forward in a way that reminded her she was not at all fit for presentation. Of course in her opinion that was only to be expected when one holed away in their lair all day and night. "I was not expecting someone for another week yet if not later." That was a lie. But said just so in her crisp and clear accent, and accent that marked her as a well bred high born lady or worth who would never ever utter an untruth, well... it was hard to be sure. Secrets had a way of getting out, the truth sifting to the surface, she knew. She had hoped to get a few more days considering she'd managed to come up with a few small improvements to the standard weaponry of soldiers that was both cheap and efficient while boosting fie power but apparently being a good daughter and giving the 'great' Dr. DuPont her work to take claim for was not enough to keep her secrets for even one more day. <br><br>Bollocks.<br><br>Moving away from her assistant, Charlotte's gaze landed upon her lovely subject, a smile that was something more than just maternal in nature appearing as she looked over what she could see of her form. Of course she knew every detail of that rather pleasant form by heart but that was only because the procedure had required it. Or at least that was all she would allow herself to believe. The girl, Justine, was another beauty just like her Prudence and she felt it a shame that society as it stood had driven her to this but that she so courageously volunteered herself to... <br><br>Charlotte's thoughts snapped off and she remembered herself. Now was not the time nor the place really and besides, the subject was stirring.<br><br>"Prudence, dear, it seems our guest might be coming to. Prepare the table there, darling..." She gestured to the examination table and began moving again herself, only as she passed through her lab she began to pick up things, a gadget here, a prototype there, a vial here, a weapon there but it wouldn't be clear just where they were all going if her assistant was actually taking notice. "Prudence... I am going to open the chamber. When I do, I need you to unstrap her and we will move her."&nbsp; The Doctor returned to the where her subject attempted to rose from her induced slumber but paused a moment, confusion flitting across her features as she lifted a hand to her chest which felt a little odd. <br><br>"Ives, be a dear an activate the external detection, and close the inner door as well please. I'd rather not be taken by surprise in the middle of this initial examination..."<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>05-10-2013, 15:24:23</strong>
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				The automatons of the London Authority could operate in airless conditions and extreme heat. The Hounds, clockwork dogs without eyes, could find their way through acrid smoke- it was said that they could sense fear. Prudence was only a mortal woman. Her face was flush as she billowed a sheet of clean linen out over the table for the patient, and once it was smooth, she succumbed to another cough. She was not even aware of the fire yet, and she was getting lightheaded, woozy. She exerted herself to accompany the doctor to the chamber, and free the fair volunteer from her medical bondage.<br><br>Ives was not affected. He was clockwork, like the tin soldiers of the Authority, like the Hounds. The rail-thin butler carried out Charlotte's instructions without difficulty. Amid the cranks and dials of the polished oak lab switchboard, a solitary light began to blink and click. But the air was slightly hazy, and Prue's vision indistinct, and she couldn't see whether visitors were being detected, or it was time to change the oxygen cylinders, or if the furnace was losing pressure. She looked to Charlotte for guidance, and saw her benefactor seem to take the vapours for a moment. There was something in the air.<br><br>Justine's skin felt cool against Prue's cradled arms, but maybe it was only the smoke making her flush. Her cheeks always turned a rosy pink when the doctor bid her to handle the test subject's naked body, and here, her hands seemed boxed by Charlotte's into compromising holds, pushed at first up Justine's flanks and up her toned thighs when they worked together to lift her from the chamber, and then ushered to the folded seat of the woman's hips when they went lengthwise to ease her onto the table. There was seldom a reason for her to be so close to another woman's secret areas, and her petite gloved hands were seldom so jittery. Justine's body was so silky and enticing.<br><br>No sooner had she helped set Justine on the table than a coughing fit took her down to her knees. Prue gasped to collect her breath, but what was coming in wasn't oxygen. It was hot, and tasted ashen. "Madam Doctor," she pleaded, hoarse. "Dr. DuPont, good heavens! I believe there is a fire!" Thin effluents of chalky gray crept in from the floorboards and behind the finely crafted switchboard. There was a tinny whistle she at first mistook for Ives' wordless voice, but it was not Ives. It was the conduits of the building, heated until they leaked pressurized steam like a tea kettle.<br><br>In the war abroad, millions of British soldiers had died in the trenches from floods of German nerve gasses. The good doctor had been one to answer the Authority's call for a practical countermeasure. And by Prue's estimation, she had succeeded brilliantly- but the Authority had not chosen her design. Too sinister, too hot. A gentleman soldier oughtn't be seen in a mask said to resemble a deep sea creature. But the air was growing poisonous, and Prue needed to breathe. Justine needed to breathe. Charlotte needed to breathe, even if she seemed to loathe to admit it.<br><br>There was no thought, as she opened the tinker trunk and fondled through the inventions therein, that this would be the last she'd see of any of them. She took out the first mask, glass-lensed goggles and taupe leather to keep toxins from the eyes and skin, awkwardly large filters for breathing which straddled the mouthpiece. Prue pressed the mask to her delicate features, and took deep, cleansing breaths. There was only the one. It had to go to Justine. If she were to die now, then by Charlotte's account, Britain would die with her. Prudence laid the mask gently over Justine's mouth and nose to help her with the clean oxygen she needed to awaken.<br><br>Outside, the Hounds strained at their leashes. The Authority need only wait.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>12-10-2013, 21:11:57</strong>
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				&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The world was dark and hazy, illuminated by distant blots of diffused light.&nbsp; Warm thoughts of red and platinum woman scattered with stripping away layers of unconsciousness.&nbsp; Justine wanted nothing more than to snatch them back and clutch them to her breast, to make her feel warm and comfortable again. <br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The blobs of fuzzy light wiggled and jumped and Justine felt like she was suddenly floating in the darkness.&nbsp; Warmth touched her back and legs and cradled her head and teased her thighs.&nbsp; A soft moan escaped her lips and her naked body stirred in both familiar and alien ways at the touch.&nbsp; Her moanful sigh was followed by a light cough as the smoky world invaded her nostrils and lungs.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The world grew bright and harsh and her lungs burned at the smoke poisoned air. Justine’s light cough became harsh and burdened chasing away sweet and scary memories and filled them with pain and confusion and fear.&nbsp; Something was being pressed against her face.&nbsp; It was cool and gripped at her cheeks and forehead.&nbsp; She coughed again and tried to draw a breath, but this death’s cowl stifled while it cleansed and her hands groped feebly to pull it away and found only the soft fabric of Prue’s sleeves.&nbsp; She was still very weak and could only whimper in protest and press her fingers into the arms that held her safe in the mask.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>22-10-2013, 22:56:51</strong>
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				Dammit. She'd thought they'd have more time. Or rather she had hoped they would anyhow. Yet, it could be noted that despite the circumstances the good Doctor's face was oddly devoid of any surprise or confusion as she continued to move about snagging objects of use. Ives, bless his mechanical soul, had activated the inner doors and as they slid shut, Charlotte coughed. The haze in the air was noticeable to her and she could indeed feel the rising temperature that indicated The Authority had not come to talk at all.<br><br>The Authority wielded numerous models of mechanical droids designed to do the work of men. The original prototypes for these replacements had been developed by her father's predecessor as a temporary measure but as the war carried on and fewer men walked Britain's streets the need for a more permanent initiative had grown. As a result the subsequent upgrades and models were children of the great mind of Dr. Charles DuPont, and by extension, his daughter. <br><br>The bots and hounds that waited just outside the doors of Charlotte's lab, and probably in key spots along the building in order to prevent escape, were not the repetitive automatons that the originals had been. No, the current models were capable of analyzing data and making adjustments, effectively allowing them to become smarter and more competent as time went on. Of course, given that they did not think the way that a human did and that emotions and mercy were foreign concepts to them, these new adjustments in course of action tended to become more severe. The particular group that had been dispatched to handle Charlotte and her poor assistant had determined from their masters' attitudes regarding the women that the two were expendable and thus had set the fire to either kill them or flush them straight out into their waiting clamps. They weren't terribly picky over which. What they had forgotten to take into account was that Charlotte would very much mind being confined to only two options that spelled her certain doom.<br><br>Charlotte's hands were all business as she opened the chamber and released the subject. Guilt threatened to rear its ugly little head as she noted the adverse effects of their impending destruction on Prue and while something inside her screamed for them to go, she knew such panicked reactions would cost her far more than just a few lungfull's of smoke. So her movements were guided by that knowledge, her hands steady as she helped to move Justine's prone form to the exam table. <br><br>Prue was then taken by coughing fit and Charlotte found breath had become difficult to manage herself. Still she pressed on with checking the subject's vitals as she roused but that damned guilt ate at her. <em>"Madam Doctor. Dr. DuPont, good heavens! I believe there is a fire!"</em> <br><br>"I do believe you are correct, Prudence, darling." Charlotte finally looked up, her big green eyes filled with a mix of combating emotions as she simply nodded. "Which means it is time for us to go." Her words, or rather the tone, would seem to exude a certain amount of calm one might consider disproportionate to the situation given the smoke and heat pressing in. The outer walls were a bit resistant to giving way under the elemental assault but Charlotte could already see spots where the fire had won its war and was creeping ever inward while the heat and pressure did a number on the pipes and structure. "I am sorry dear. I will explain later, I promise. But for now we must get the subject somewhere safe."<br><br>Pulling off her lab coat, the good doctor called out, "Ives...," she suffered her own coughing fit then and moved the coat over her mouth and nose for a second before finishing,"execute exit protocol X." There was a delayed beep letting her know her command had been heard and then a series of clicks and whirrs that were like music to her ears. Looking up she saw that Prue had gone for the mask and after taking a few breaths herself had put it over the subject's face. <br><br>"Now darling, we cannot go out the front and I suspect the windows are a lost cause as well so..." Charlotte snagged up a bag and dropped the strap over her head and shoulders. "Since we cannot go out or up, we must go down." She pointed to a section of the flooring that Ives had taken up to reveal a rather crude looking hatch in the ground. That was the good news. The bad news, which they would discover shortly after Charlotte wrapped a fresh lab coat around the subject and slipped an arm around her to help the not altogether awake and functioning woman up, was that the stifling heat had already beat them there and the hinges to the cover were melted. To top it off, a huge thud sounded at the door once, and then again. The eerie baying of mechanical hounds sounded and Charlotte actually shuddered. It seemed The Authority really had issues with patience.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>26-10-2013, 03:43:36</strong>
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				The baying of the Hounds instilled the same panic in Prue that it did in Whitechapel's swooning maidens. Had she not Dr. DuPont's steady voice and the waking grasp of Justine's fingers to guide her, she might have gone boneless to the floor and made Ives carry her. Instead she obeyed. "Ah, at once, Dr. DuPont!" A slender coupling rod served her as a pry bar to unseat the trapdoor from the deep dust, but the wood began to creak in protest as the hinges, melted to slag, held the opposite end firmly down with all the solidarity of Parliament's banded wood doors. Even with all the pressure of her slender body, she could not heft it.<br><br>Only one of them could. "ives," she coughed, "help, please." The clockwork butler's telescoping fingers gripped under the old wood as Prudence pried. Splinters cracked from the robot's strength, the fused hinges warped, and two feet of gap opened between floor and hatch. Prue's long legs reached down, and her shoes sounded on the roof of the hollow cask below. A brush of clumsiness made her shoe slip across the slats, and she fell atop it, cleanly clearing the way for the next woman to descend. "I'm alright," she called, though winded from the shock to the pelvis. "Oh, gracious. The wood down here is burning. The lab is <em>assuredly </em>on fire!"<br><br>By Ives' wholly dedicated strength, the gap opened a little wider so Justine could be lowered down. Prue's outstretched arms accepted the groggy woman like a bride, all white in Charlotte's lab coat and from a shortage of blood and oxygen. Prudence was pink enough for the both of them as she gingerly felt her way down to ground, crowded by timbers and shelves and casks that were being first licked by flickering orange flames. A resounding thump from above made her sink down with a yelp. She hoped that it was Charlotte and Ives, and not just a beam fallen to trap them in a flaming pure.<br><br>It was her duty, should anything happen, to take care of Justine. With heat crowding all around, she brought the subject's hands to one of her own, clothed in a wooly glove to stave off the London chill. "Do you see me? Do you remember your name?" Fingertips rosy with little flecks of rust touched Justine's face and left coppery evidence on the skin. "My name is Prudence. Prudence Chastity Crosswhite." Dark eyes pleaded for the subject's mental wellness, and for the doctor's wellness, too- she could not turn her eyes up toward the smoke for long, but she felt she could hear Charlotte's huff of indignation there in the room with them.<br><br>The only breath of cool air came from behind the wrought iron filigree of a shared cellar gate. They were ages old, the tunnels of old London, bricked over on the surface and turned into smuggler's tunnels, opium dens, wine cellars, storage space. The gate's locking bold slid from the stone with a wretched shriek, and the unoiled gate creaked open to a dark passage of cool green stone painted only by the flickers of fiery light behind them.<br><br>"I know the streets of Whitechapel very well," she reported, between filling her lungs with clean air from the cellar's chilly stores. "I've lived here all my life." Prudence was not strong like Ives, or brilliant like Charlotte. She was not brave like Justine either. But as the slums of London had grown like weedy vine over and under itself, Prue knew its every fiber. A knocker-upper she had been before, a girl who tapped the windows with a pole to wake the morning workers. That had been before the war. "I must ask you to trust me," she said lightly, delicately, as she led backward into the claustrophobic shadows.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Doctor's Results</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>22-11-2013, 08:00:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Justine couldn’t make out all of the sounds clashing in her ears.&nbsp; The mask covering her face filled her nose with the scents of leather and rubber and the visor seems cloudy, but she was not coherent enough to know that it wasn’t dirt smeared along its face, but the smoke that coiled and flowed along the ceiling that she was seeing.&nbsp; Something wrapped itself around her bare skin and she heard voices, one concerned the other calm, both comforting in their familiarity.&nbsp; <br><br>‘Charlotte…Prudence…’<br><br>The arms that had fought so ineffectually against Prue’s to keep the mask at bay released their tension and she became pliable to the two women letting them lead her and lower her into the basement of the good Doctor’s lab.&nbsp; Something urged her mind to slip past that place of dreary half-sleep to mostly awake.&nbsp; Questions…she was being asked something.&nbsp; Mental gears moved haltingly at first, but her mind was already beginning to work.&nbsp; <br><br>A pale hand pushed the mask away from her face letting the weight of it carry them both away from her head.&nbsp; Cornflower hair cascaded haphazardly about her delicate seeming face which hung wobbly as if her neck had yet to decide to hold up her head.&nbsp; Hazy eyes slowly focused.&nbsp; Sound first, soft lips next.&nbsp; She concentrated on those lips, watched them move revealing pearl and shadowy pink as they made words.&nbsp; Justine nodded. She saw, her vision tunneled, but focusing, the light touch of fingertips rousing her.<br><br>“Justine.” She answered wanting to say something, but the strange light in the cellar was confusing and suddenly terrifying. “Fire?!?” her voice croaked as the splintering of wood could be heard from above.&nbsp; There were other sounds now.&nbsp; The thud of footsteps too heavy to be a man’s, the clank and hiss of metal and steam.&nbsp; She felt the presence of another in the room, but she couldn’t see the doctor yet.&nbsp; Justine tried to stand and almost fell until hands wrapped around her waist to support her.&nbsp; She let the two women lead her away from the flames and danger into the dark portal towards the gate.&nbsp; Justine concentrated on what Prudence and Dr. DuPont where saying, the ache of her surgery heightened with her awareness.&nbsp; Somewhere in her head she was wondering why it didn’t hurt more, but there were much more pressing matters at the moment.<br><br>“I do…trust you, you and Charlo…Dr. DuPont.” She heard herself correct her error.&nbsp; Justine was unable to filter her thoughts at the moment and to call the good doctor Charlotte was much too familiar to be sure.&nbsp; <br><br>“Dr. DuPont?” She looked up to make sure Charlotte was near as well.<br><br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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