Post by satyricalconsort on Mar 5, 2023 22:19:51 GMT -5
Number 112: Thomas aka "Tommy" Mcklintoch. Project name "Crosscut."
Number 358: Loise James Kicklighter. Project name "Holdup."
Number 132: Valen "Zen" Riot. Project name "Proctor."
Number 466: Piotr Venn Petrovski. Project name "Freakout."
Four vats stood in a row before the geneticist, a watery substance drained out of the tanks and back into the underground reservoirs. These four were collected from different regions of the globe and reaped from the field. From there the four of them were put on ice as it were, but professor Romaji put their minds into a simulation in order to forge an artificial connection between the party; they needed to work together after all. They had been inserted into the simulator without knowledge of being in a simulation, so to them, the relationship was natural. This was her plan, because their respective abilities were useful, and the whole was stronger than its constituent parts, especially considering the abilities for number 132, whom she came to name Proctor. Proctor was a favorite, their abilities were particularly unique, and of course she wasn't even done developing number 466 and didn't really want to release him yet, but she her hand was forced by the blood contract she'd had with that damnable damphir.
Unlike the beneficiary, the producer of the contract was uncapable of violating the terms of said contract, although often times she will write the contract so breaking its agreement will always be harmful to the recipient, if not also by the very nature of the agreement itself. She didn't require it to be in writing, a verbal agreement was enough; but physical examples would always empower and embolden the terms of service. And of course Alucard hard the contract in writing, even got the a drop of the good professor's blood on the paperwork... so she was stuck; at least for now.
As a primal entity her concept had significantly outdated that of the vampire's own, and of course the concept of the hybrid's as well, and so she knew she'd be around after he was gone too. After all, she was a very returnable entity; and even if she was sent away she'd be sent back again... eventually. Although not quite as powerful as this realm as she was in her home of origin, this is was where she found herself. That's what happens when she dies over there, or over here for that example. Death is very much a two way street for creatures like her; for the primal fears; as long as that fear existed they would always return. Only one entity had the power to remove the concept and even the memory of that concept from reality, and that individual was under her thumb. But he wasn't here.
After the tanks had drained she put them through the process of waking them; each one woke in their own time, there was never a promise of how long it'd take for someone to arise from a chemically induced coma. At least she had time; she understood how time passed differently for immortals. A few hours would pass and each would be awake. She made sure their dream land would lead seamlessly into our world; they would never know that their entire partnership was but a dream. A joke. An illusion. A farce. She needed their bond to remain strong, that was the way she planned it. They would work better together if they cared about each other, making them more effective servants.
Soon as they were awake, she commanded them: "Go to The master; he requires you." She told them each, and by her will they were forced to go. They didn't get to ask questions, she didn't have patience for all that. She regarded these people as pets, and she didn't need pets that told her no - only yes, or arf arf were acceptable. Besides, she wanted to get them out of her hair. She despised the situation she'd been painted into, and she was looking for a way out. If that damphir was no more, she'd be free of this dreadful contract.
And so she'd go back the first lab, and put that special blood specimen between the glass plates under the microscope and watched again with amazement. In being summoned, she was forced to leave the specimen out of the cooling tank; which exposed the sample to the unexpected pressure of oxidative stress. And no; not even that ceased cellular biology. So resilient! With a sinister smile on her face, she considered just exactly how to expose these cells to a vacuum. Oxygen is a catalyst, and it eats practically everything, but most cells were aerobic, so perhaps exposing these cells to an anaerobic environment might actually be the ticket?
If you weren't testing, you were guessing. And so she smirked as she considered the possibilities, and even more she pondered the nature and identity of the specimen. DNA sequencing did no good because of the instable and chaotic nature of the code. It's finding a needle in a hay stack that can become a string of hay.
Number 358: Loise James Kicklighter. Project name "Holdup."
Number 132: Valen "Zen" Riot. Project name "Proctor."
Number 466: Piotr Venn Petrovski. Project name "Freakout."
Four vats stood in a row before the geneticist, a watery substance drained out of the tanks and back into the underground reservoirs. These four were collected from different regions of the globe and reaped from the field. From there the four of them were put on ice as it were, but professor Romaji put their minds into a simulation in order to forge an artificial connection between the party; they needed to work together after all. They had been inserted into the simulator without knowledge of being in a simulation, so to them, the relationship was natural. This was her plan, because their respective abilities were useful, and the whole was stronger than its constituent parts, especially considering the abilities for number 132, whom she came to name Proctor. Proctor was a favorite, their abilities were particularly unique, and of course she wasn't even done developing number 466 and didn't really want to release him yet, but she her hand was forced by the blood contract she'd had with that damnable damphir.
Unlike the beneficiary, the producer of the contract was uncapable of violating the terms of said contract, although often times she will write the contract so breaking its agreement will always be harmful to the recipient, if not also by the very nature of the agreement itself. She didn't require it to be in writing, a verbal agreement was enough; but physical examples would always empower and embolden the terms of service. And of course Alucard hard the contract in writing, even got the a drop of the good professor's blood on the paperwork... so she was stuck; at least for now.
As a primal entity her concept had significantly outdated that of the vampire's own, and of course the concept of the hybrid's as well, and so she knew she'd be around after he was gone too. After all, she was a very returnable entity; and even if she was sent away she'd be sent back again... eventually. Although not quite as powerful as this realm as she was in her home of origin, this is was where she found herself. That's what happens when she dies over there, or over here for that example. Death is very much a two way street for creatures like her; for the primal fears; as long as that fear existed they would always return. Only one entity had the power to remove the concept and even the memory of that concept from reality, and that individual was under her thumb. But he wasn't here.
After the tanks had drained she put them through the process of waking them; each one woke in their own time, there was never a promise of how long it'd take for someone to arise from a chemically induced coma. At least she had time; she understood how time passed differently for immortals. A few hours would pass and each would be awake. She made sure their dream land would lead seamlessly into our world; they would never know that their entire partnership was but a dream. A joke. An illusion. A farce. She needed their bond to remain strong, that was the way she planned it. They would work better together if they cared about each other, making them more effective servants.
Soon as they were awake, she commanded them: "Go to The master; he requires you." She told them each, and by her will they were forced to go. They didn't get to ask questions, she didn't have patience for all that. She regarded these people as pets, and she didn't need pets that told her no - only yes, or arf arf were acceptable. Besides, she wanted to get them out of her hair. She despised the situation she'd been painted into, and she was looking for a way out. If that damphir was no more, she'd be free of this dreadful contract.
And so she'd go back the first lab, and put that special blood specimen between the glass plates under the microscope and watched again with amazement. In being summoned, she was forced to leave the specimen out of the cooling tank; which exposed the sample to the unexpected pressure of oxidative stress. And no; not even that ceased cellular biology. So resilient! With a sinister smile on her face, she considered just exactly how to expose these cells to a vacuum. Oxygen is a catalyst, and it eats practically everything, but most cells were aerobic, so perhaps exposing these cells to an anaerobic environment might actually be the ticket?
If you weren't testing, you were guessing. And so she smirked as she considered the possibilities, and even more she pondered the nature and identity of the specimen. DNA sequencing did no good because of the instable and chaotic nature of the code. It's finding a needle in a hay stack that can become a string of hay.