exsiliumlogs | ( closed to the kidnapped ) The Princess Peach Collective

Entry tags:

( closed to the kidnapped ) The Princess Peach Collective

Date & Time: August 31st - September 18th
Location: United Earth Holding Compound
Characters: Any and all characters kidnapped during the interim.
Summary: So you were walking around, minding your own business... and then you were in the UE. Welcome, friends! Please enjoy your stay. Try the coffee! It's fantastic! Better avoid the bread pudding, though... (Official Kidnappee Handbook is here!)
Warnings: Kidnapping/Normal gambit of medical tests/shots/reflex tests/bloodwork/etc. Please notify the mods if anything gets into explicit or upsetting territory.

Notes: Player created United Earth NPCs welcome to guest star. If you have questions regarding these, please ask the moderators. Remember, this is not a torture chamber. This is a scientific facility with military aptitude, and seeks to contain, not injure, its projects. (You are a project!)

Please start your threads with a date or timeframe in the subject line to indicate who may tag in, depending on their arrival!
Welcome to the United Earth Holding Compound. There may be an official name, but the workers never say: they all have their own names for it, and "home" is never one of them. Still, as you're left to wander the halls connecting your individual containment areas to the cafeteria of spartan design, and many automated food producers (along with an endless supply of green jello and fruit), you may begin to wonder what exactly this place is. Why would the United Earth have a sense of design?

(Because of scientists, someone might whisper, though you'll never figure out who.)

Mystery unanswered, it'll be apparent they do. Even the lounge area you have access to looks out upon an expanse of green -- one that you are allowed into, if the surrounding U of military buildings, with much less architectural flair, will steadily drive you back out if you're seen near them.

Make no mistake: your accommodations are minimal at best, laughably slapped together at the last minute at worst. Your showering and bathroom facilities are uni-sex, so the more modest amongst you may wish to figure out a schedule for guys and gals. Towels, sheets, and plenty of nice hospital gowns will be on offer; characters so interested may attempt to find the laundry facilities.

All the labs are state of the art, and the computers and such used by the United Earth far beyond what the Initiative has ever provided. The biggest downside for the Transports being held is the lack of ready entertainment. A few board games have been left in the common area, and a few decks of cards, but that's all.

Not even an e-book to read.

Have fun, Kidnapped Transports, and try not to play "spot all the security measures and all the air ducts" too too often, will you?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Brow furrowed, he peers around Oz, further down the shaft. He points to the next grate down, idly wondering whether getting closer to the source of the voices won't just get them caught.

But, well... they've come this far. Cufflinks were sacrificed.]

Let's try the next one down. [Voice genuinely a breathy whisper, this time.] It seems like a big room. We can listen in and then move on before anyone notices.

[Or, well. That's how it would happen in an ideal world.]

( he follows chrono's point, wonders the same and concludes he can't bring himself to care about getting caught. if they're test subjects, what are these people really going to do?

let's not dwell on it. )

Okay.

( whispered as well on a nod, and he moves down in that direction, stopping by the grate. the voice — singular, female, harried — is a great deal more clear.

this is ridiculous! she says audibly, not bothering to keep her voice down. i've never seen deadlines like these except in bad movies! )

[Yes! She doesn't seem to have noticed them, either; jackpot.

Chrono presses his ear closer to the grate, concentrating, though it isn't entirely necessary for the voice below to be audible. If only he could see through it properly...

There's the shuffle of paperwork, more aimless than productive, and more muttered cursing. We've only had actual samples for two weeks! Something ceramic—a coffee mug, perhaps—meets a table, hard. Do they honestly expect us to roll their chimera project out so quickly? It's only possible if we never eat or sleep, and even then! ...

Chrono peers up at Oz, paling somewhat. He's not surprised they're being studied, of course; it's the only thing that explains the tests. But the word chimera... When one lives with a mad scientist-inventor for long enough...]

Oz... [Breathed, clipped. He feels like he's on the precipice of something terrible, but isn't sure what.] I think we've found one of the labs.

( the grate creaks slowly beneath them, loose either from hasty assembly or chemical fumes or who really knows, it's another thing perhaps best not dwelt on, but the woman doesn't notice. most of it isn't surprising, samples collected presumably from the transports here, and that the longest ones gone have been two weeks — bad but could be worse, especially if that's the kind of timeframe that's an "only" to her, gives hope for if rescue doesn't delay too much...

but their chimera project leads to a soft intake of breath that only chrono would be able to hear, eyes wide and glassy with alarm as he too looks up. he may not be very scientifically-savvy even for his time period, so far removed from this or even chrono's in terms of technology, but all those books in vessalius library haven't gone to waste on him, least of all the mythologies and he knows what a chimera is. it's hardly a leap to go from the word to the talk of samples, to the check-up he'd been given and the blood he's provided already, to knowing the ue is studying the transports, that they're one of the initiative's major trump cards, to — )

Oh.

( precipice of something terrible indeed, enough to make his heart clamor noisily enough that it seems a wonder the woman doesn't hear, continues her grumbling.

no controls for these freaks, of course! what am i supposed to compare them to? it's a wonder there's anything normal about any of them.

the clacking of slides and impatient fingernails on a hard surface, and the clicking of a microscope follow.

but it's all project chimera this and that, finish it asap if you're really loyal to the government. )

Edited 2013-10-04 03:39 (UTC)

[Freaks, haaah... Chrono wonders if she knows even the half of it. Hopes she hasn't been trying to keep any legion in a Petri dish. The Elder quickly learned how conclusively that leads to devoured glass and an exorcism, every time.

He's seized by the thought that they need to stop her—take the data, destroy this room—but he shoves that instinct down ruthlessly, focusing instead on the muttering below. It's growing increasingly vehement, and whoever this invisible person she's arguing with is, she imagines they're losing the argument.

I've been in here for 22 hours already! I don't see them working 22 hours straight. The creaking of a chair as she leans back, rubbing at her eyes. I can't even see straight anymore...

The sound of that mug being lifted again, before she makes a frustrated, defeated noise and stands, moving closer to the vent—a table directly below them boasts a modest coffee machine, which Chrono finally identifies by the smell slowly wafting into the vent. I work harder than any of them and I don't get a scrap of respect! The mug meets the table with prejudicial force, and Chrono wonders for a moment whether she won't shatter her mug by accident. Just shitty coffee!]

( they're mundane complaints that oz finds himself tuning out from, from which there isn't much to be had besides that the scientists too are being worked to the bone, that the ue is perhaps frantic in this quest for their chimeras. and his mind races ahead to what then, what then? if they're really trying to — if he's right, if they succeed, what does that spell? for exsilium, for test subjects they may be working to render unnecessary, then —

then?

she says, this isn't what i was told this project would be like! they said it was of critical importance and they needed their brightest minds — ha! all i get is questioning day in and day out, 'is it ready yet? what's taking so long?'

what's taking so long! finicky taq no matter how many technological advances we make, standard ladders irrelevant for some of these samples, and the pcrs! if they want me to go faster, they could give me a hand instead of hassling me. you'd think i'd been forced here too for the treatment i get. at least the subjects get to eat and sleep! )

Edited 2013-10-04 04:38 (UTC)

[Chrono can feel his stomach knotting with anxiety the more she rants, and though he doesn't understand the jargon, he's fitted the pieces together, too. Since coming here and being poked, prodded, stabbed, scrutinized- he's known there are only two things they could be aiming for with that information: creation or destruction.

This (pitiable) woman has given him the answer.

She's still muttering as she ambles back to her workstation, but for some reason the words are growing indistinct and he can't quite work out why, until—

The soft breeze stirring his hair picks up into less of a breeze and more of a dusty gale, and he's abruptly reminded that shafts like this exists for a reason. He has time to fix Oz with a wide-eyed look of dawning horror before the flimsy grate beneath them gives way completely.]

( the good thing is that they don't fall directly onto the coffeemaker, or there'd be the danger of burning to contend with; in a stroke of luck in what is otherwise an utter fiasco already, the corner of the grate manages to push it off the table. the bad thing is that they then fall onto the table at the same time the coffeemaker hits the hard ground, causing a twin crash that together with the woman's shriek makes it literally impossible for anyone in this wing of the building to miss that something's happened.

the table also cracks and breaks. just because.

so by the time oz finds himself choking out a cough and looking up, she's already approaching them with a wild look.

what the hell is this supposed to be? )

[Shit shit shit shit shit- Chrono shakes the dust out of his eyes and sits up, wincing as the rubble of the table crunches beneath him. Stuff like this hurts when you can't regenerate, he's discovering quickly.

Looks up at their unwitting informant, stumbling over some way to play this off.]

We're just, ahh, um—we got lost! [IN THE VENTILATION SYSTEM...

The woman ignores Chrono, and her hand is halfway to the communicator at her hip before she pauses, looking them over. There are photographs attached to the data and samples, and some things are unmistakeable—

You! she exclaims to the room at large, and it seems, for all the world, to be entirely accusatory.]

( it does hurt, and it's knocked the wind out of him; he's still moving to sit up and gasping as chrono answers, and —

really? THEY GOT LOST IN THE VENTILATION???

not that there's anything better they could've told her, because the truth is obvious enough. the way she pauses is enough to make him pause as well, her exclamation startling.

so here's the problem in the flesh! she says, still loudly. like you! with a point at chrono, have you tried examining your dna sequence? because i'd love to know! insane things eating through my equipment before i can think about isolating anything, no wonder the fools on that godforsaken island are so disorganized! )

Ah, ( slips out as she rants; oz is flummoxed at her — well, vehemence.

but that only has her turning on him, and you too! )

Edited 2013-10-04 13:40 (UTC)

[Well, that answers his earlier question. He opens his mouth once or twice to interject, but closes it uselessly each time. By the time she rounds on Oz, he's cowed enough to have an apology on the tip of his tongue.

Her fury for Oz is just as mighty, though.

I've had your data for a few hours and it's already some of the worst! Your cells make no sense at all — what's wrong with you?! This data is functionally useless! I can't even compare it to these other abominations they've given me! She actually picks up one of the slides under the microscope and waves it at him, accusing. You analyze this and well me what I'm meant to be looking at, because years of schooling hasn't helped me at all! How do they expect me to explain a bond like this when I've never so much as seen one before? And in under a week, no less!

Chrono peers over at Oz while she rants, still wide-eyed, a silent question. Maybe they should be running for their lives?]

Edited 2013-10-06 17:46 (UTC)

( well, that's — mildly terrifying, and it's enough to almost make him wonder if she's ever spoken to ms kate. he pulls backwards slightly at the slide being waved in his face with some small measure of alarm, eyebrows climbing up high enough to vanish into his bangs.

— except, except, studying a bond has to mean the contract, what else could it be, and if he had more than half a second to think about her words outside of her harangue that earlier horror would come back in a flood instead of a trickle. chrono's look is missed as that fully dawns on him. of course they'd want to study a contract, and didn't he make it very obvious several months ago that he's got a powerful one?

your telomerases are out of control! how do you even exist? is her finishing note, and she glares at them beadily for a long moment before her hand finishes its earlier path and presses a button on the communicator. there's no immediate response to it, but what's coming is probably not hard to guess. )

[Given that Chrono is looking at Oz during the tirade, he doesn't miss the way his expression remains oddly fixed in place, or the implications of that kind of resolute blankness.

But these are things they can worry about later.

Chrono is on his feet before her finger meets the button, and wonders just how much time they have before the guards arrive. Less than a minute, most likely. He knows how many are stationed in each hallway.

His fingers tangle in Oz's sleeve and drag him along as he bolts for the door on the far side of the lab, heedless of the scientist's yelling. Just a few more feet, that's all they need...]

( he's stumbling the first few steps, dragged, before regaining his footing and running too. the implications of what she said, all of them, can be worried about later.

for now, what matters is getting to the door as soon as possible. and for a moment, it seems like they'll manage it; at least until the door bursts open from the outside, guards blocking their way. )

[Dammit.

Any other day, Chrono might have simply powered through them. Knocked them flat, bolted- his brain is halfway through sending that command before he halts himself, remembering how ineffective (and unwise) that would be right now.

Instead his grip on Oz's arm tightens, helplessly, as the guard...

Very calmly, very mechanically, plucks both of them off the floor and settles one under each arm (both light enough that it's hardly any effort at all). It's all so anti-climatic that Chrono doesn't even bother to struggle.

With a nod to the scientist, who offers little more than continued, angry muttering, the guard turns on his heel and begins dragging them back through the bowels of the compound.]

( this is just embarrassing.

the possibility of struggling occurs to him, but it's fairly pointless; this was an inevitability from the moment they burst through the grate (and maybe sooner). besides, even if they did get away from this guard, where exactly would they go? they're lucky the guard isn't feeling particularly aggressive at the moment.

so without anything to hold him up, it doesn't take long before he's depositing the two of them back in the captives' areas with a hard look that says more than words to that they aren't to try something like this again — and if they do, they can't expect this kind of treatment a second time. )

[Chrono stands stock-still where the guard deposits him, and watches him retreat with utter blankness.

That...

He's not complaining. But it isn't what he'd expected.

It's only after a few long beats that he realizes the other Transports have begun staring, so he hooks his hand back into Oz's sleeve and begin dragging him in the direction of the bedrooms, wordlessly.]

( less of a drag than a pull; oz follows along quietly enough, offering no resistance as they go back to presumably chrono's room. so much for this adventure, except it had been fruitful in a way. knowledge is power is what duke barma had said, not incorrectly (and not that oz would admit to him), but this is — )

[Chrono's room indeed, and he ushers Oz in first before closing the door, firmly. Since their little adventure began, the grate on the ceiling has been replaced (soldered shut, this time) and the chair removed.

Chrono lets out a long, slow breath, slumping against the door. He has a moment or two to collect his thoughts before looking up at Oz, brow furrowed.]

... You okay?

( the ue is nothing if not quick and efficient he supposes, and looks up at the question. )

I'm fine. That was — it was a good idea, Chrono.

( it's knowledge they'll be able to do something with, surely, and a contract in any case can't be something they could tamper with — right? )

Oz...

[Something of a reprimand, though it's light. Oz is not fine; nobody could be fine, after hearing all that. Chrono sighs again and slides down the door to sit, running a hand through his hair in a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. He rarely has a good idea, so he's waiting for the other shoe to drop with this one.]

I'm having mixed feelings. [Good that they know? Probably. Is he happy that they do? No, not really.] We don't even have a way to contact someone...

( he's totally fine.

chrono sitting is something he takes as license to do the same — or rather, he flops onto chrono's bed and stares up at the ceiling, arms spread at his sides. )

We don't yet. ( because that's something to cling to now more than ever, but he also doesn't want to get into this argument with chrono again. ) At least we know for sure what they're doing now.

( and then, after a beat, he laughs for just a moment )

And the look on her face was pretty funny, don't you think?

[He looks up to shoot Oz an incredulous look from the floor, not that Oz can see it.]

... Your definition of 'funny' needs work. [Muttered almost to himself, pained.] She put it under glass, I knew someone would, idiots...

( he is absolutely vindictive enough to find her distress amusing, given what they're trying to do. putting bits of people under the glass, as chrono had put it, trying to figure them out down to the cellular level — sickening enough, even without considering the end goal (project chimera)...

he's sure of rescue, but how long will it take? )

...they're in a hurry.

Yeah... which means they're probably going to make mistakes. [Like putting micro-demons in glass containers. So stupid...] ... But in this case that's probably just as bad for us as it is for them.

[Chrono stops to consider the implications of all this, really think about what the end goal might look like. All that comes to mind is the grotesque monsters the Elder had in his lab before disposing of them—however he did it, Chrono never asked—for newer, better specimen. Clean slates.

If what the UE is really after here is their abilities, it raises a host of other questions. How will a monster-clone—or whatever a chimera entails, in this situation—utilize demonic abilities without possessing legion? Or worse- if they somehow manage to replicate legion without a power source... what happens then? He has a few guesses, and it makes something in his stomach twist. It isn't good news for anyone, either way.

And that's not even factoring in the abilities of everyone else here.]

I should have fought them more. [Quietly, on the ghost of a short exhale. Hindsight won't help him now.] There are... [pieces of me] abilities of mine that they can't be allowed to have.

[Humans replicating demons. He tries to ignore the part of him, programmed by culture and upbringing, that's terribly offended by the very idea.]

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