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Post by Key Mischavitch on Jul 8, 2009 5:21:38 GMT -5
‘Good morning Key’.
The voice spoke.
‘Is it?’
Key replied. She thought it unusual to greet someone ‘good morning’ if they never slept. She tried to envision. The man behind the voice, but she couldn’t. Her once overactive imagination had dwindled to nothing. All she knew of the man behind the voice was the small loudspeaker in the corner of the roo, protected by a metal grating. Key wondered if she could kill herself with it. Probably not. As usual she was strapped to her cot. She couldn’t move, couldn’t scratch an itch. She couldn’t remember the last time she had, but like clockwork, she knew what was coming next. There was a loud buzzing and a door Key couldn’t see slid open. A doctor entered and leaned over Key, he smiled warmly at her, but it was all an act, he felt no empathy for her, no affection, she could smell it.
‘How’s your vision today Key?’
He asked, using his fingers to pry Key’s eyelids open, he flashed a torch at them.
‘Good’.
She lied, it was better than good, it was amazing. She could see in the dark.
‘Hmm… excellent, well I think you’re doing rather nicely’.
He said with a smile.
‘I think the Tower has some good news for you today’.
Key could hear the buzz again and he left, as soon as he had arrived.
‘Why am I here!?’
Key asked loudly, she asked the same question everyday. Truth he told, she didn’t know where she had come from, she knew little of her life apart from waking up in the hospital, all she could remember of her childhood was a huge city.
‘You’re very sick Key’.
The tower replied, sickly sweet. There was something Key wanted to ask the Tower, but she knew she’d never get a proper response; it happened a week ago or maybe more, months? days? Time had little meaning when you spent your existence strapped to a bed, hooked up to catheters and drips and whatever other machinery they used that was hidden from view.
‘I heard an explosion! What was it?’
There was a slight pause, there always was.
‘There was no explosion Key, perhaps you imagined it, you are in hospital after all’.
Key hissed under her breath, she flexed her muscles and felt the straps strain against her skin. Was she stronger?
‘I have some good news. You’re going to be released from the medical ward today, your going to join the other patients. With this comes new responsibilities Key, you are to be on your best behaviour, or you’ll be confined to solitary confinement for the remainder of your life’.
The Straps released. Key wasn’t sure what to do at first, she flexed her fingers, moved her shoulders. The syringes that were locked into her sore arms, loosened and simply pulled away from her, disappearing into the wall behind her. The same buzzing she’d heard twice away, buzzed again and the padded door slid open. Key hissed dangerously under her breath. It looked normal enough, a hospital hallway. Key followed passageway, it led to an open dark room, Keys keen eyes could see into the darkness, but it seemed empty, Key entered the room and lights immediately turned on.
‘No!’
Key screamed seeing her reflection. She was different, altered, not the person she was when she had been taken kicking and screaming to Parasych. The room was nothing but mirrors, the Tower had to know what she was doing, planned this. She moved closer to her reflection, she was monstrous; her ears were long and pointed. Her eyes were blue and catlike, she had claws… claws, which retracted into her fingers when she flexed. They’d changed her, altered her to their liking. Key screamed, she lashed out smashing the mirrors in the small reflective room.
‘That’s not very good behaviour Key’.
The Tower answered, a door slid open, Key could see the Hospital, it looked like a living room, shrouded in white.
Parashych Park.
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Post by Debbie Grassfielder on Jul 9, 2009 23:50:04 GMT -5
Tables and chairs were all over the newly renovated and polished up patient common room. Small board games were on a few tables in the corner, magazines were neatly arranged on other tables, and several old recliners were arranged around a small television set. A chess set sat at a loney table in a corner. The place was more like a retirement community to the unsuspecting eye, but this was only one of the common rooms available for segregating the patients. For example, any patients that could play with electricity or magnetic fields were never allowed near a television - for fear they might change the channel to something unwholesome, of course!
A young girl, no more than fifteen but no younger than twelve, sat on the floor playing with a wooden set of cars and trains. Her hair was brown and short, and her skin a pale complexion. She wore only a white dress with no lace or decoration, and a pair of white fuzzy slippers. While this scene was entirely innocent, there was a certain listlessness to her game. Clearly she was bored and trying to hide it. But the introduction of Key into the room piqued her interest, and the young girl looked up to the woman with a smile, "Hello!"
Behind the sweet, innocent smile of the girl, though, something dangerous and evil lurked.
((OOC: Really didn't know where to start with this -- how long it's been since the break out, if anything was still stirring from said breakout...hopefully this will be passable until we find out who else is still in.))
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Post by steven on Jul 10, 2009 16:50:39 GMT -5
'Blurry. Everything he sees is in slow motion, blurred, out of touch and out of focus. A security guard wheels the young, vital, and healthy looking man out into the common room and right up to a window, locking the wheels of the wheelchair with heavyweight ceramic locks before having a seat not ten feet away, nightstick, paper spray, tazer, and a single tranq pistol with a doseage high enough to drop not one but three bull elephants.'
'Steven's vision clears enough as his body filters the sedatives that he can see out the window. His eyes lose some of their glazed appearance as he looks outside, through the heavy steel bars that could crush a man's skull if ripped from the wall and swung at the guard's head...'
'He blinks afew times, rolling his head around a little so he can examine his surroundings. He's a soldier, a fighter, and a damned pissed off one. He's been here more then twenty years, no fresh air, the same crappy food, and most of it speant in a drug-induced stupor. Worst of all they took his stuff, and have actually played with some of his most precious possesions right in front of him. They "amputated" his arm with HIS weapon, his sword, the one thing that kept him alive before they brought him here, hid him from the world. Oh well, at least he can get older, get stronger. He watches Debbie play with her toys, spotting the boredom easily, until the new person is brought in. He only has about twenty-five minutes before they'll take him back to his "room", afraid of what he would do without being sedated and locked away. He hasn't gotten to kill in more then a decade, and he knows he's only afew years short of being strong enough to break out, and when he does, he's sending at least thirty of these pigs to hell.'
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Post by Debbie Grassfielder on Jul 13, 2009 11:46:22 GMT -5
Debbie turned her head when Steven was rolled in. She reached over and picked up the small rag doll that had been carelessly left on the floor near her toys. Carefully standing up, she stretched her legs before walking near Steven's wheelchair and tilting sideways to smile at him.
"Hi, Mister! You're back again!" she smiled. She held up her doll to him, "Wanna play with Dahli? She missed you!"
She acted blissfully ignorant of his restraints, and never looked at them to watch if he would move in them. She just stared into his eyes, looking for something. The small rag doll was held where he could have easily taken it were he not strapped to the chair, and just hovered there, the black button eyes and brown yarn hair limp and lifeless. Debbie shook the doll a little. "C'mon, Mister, just take Dahli, she wants to be friends! Don't ya wanna be friends, Mister?"
The guard was starting to show some signs of irritation, which was not Debbie's intentions, so she sighed playfully and held the dolly by her side. "Well, suit yourself, Mister."
Debbie smiled brightly one more time, "See you tomorrow!" and walked back to her toys. Tomorrow, of course, she'd do the same thing again. She did it every day to him, waving her doll at him asking him to take it and play with her. Day after day...week after week...any chance Steven was allowed into the common room. She'd been doing it for months now, ever since she arrived and they'd 'met' for the first time. And, every time she always stared directly into his eyes, as if searching for something familiar. But, every time she was finished, she'd never show any signs of unhappiness, as if just the look he gave her was enough to satisfy her curiousity.
She went back to her toy cars and trucks, then looked to Key again and smiled warmly, hoping by now the mysterious new addition would do or say something...
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Post by Key Mischavitch on Jul 13, 2009 23:00:38 GMT -5
‘Hello’
A young girl said warmly, Key stared. She was so young. She didnt know how to respond, she never was good with kids.
‘Hello sweetheart…’
She replied, taken aback, she couldn’t quite get her bearings; there were too many different scents and sounds, mechanical noises in the distance, the odd scream of two. Key sat down on the sofa, feeling uncomfortable she curled her body in the corner of the couch, trying to shrink even further, looking more and more like a cat.
‘How long have you been here?’
She asked the girl, who had just returned from her previous position, talking to the restrained man, or perhaps taunting him, she couldn’t tell. She hadn’t even noticed the man when she first entered the room. Why? Why were they here, why was HE here, what was the point, wasn’t it safer for everyone including himself if he was confined in solitary, the way Key had been for so many years.
‘I’m Key, what’s your name?’
She asked the little girl, her brilliant blue cat eyes starring deeply into the little girls, there was something there, an extra addition, or perhaps something she was missing, hovering just behind the little girl’s eyes. Key couldn’t tell why. But the girl terrified her, more than the restrained man.
‘Did you hear an explosion? A couple of weeks ago? Maybe a month, I’m not sure? Sirens and lots of excitement?’
She asked Debbie, scratching her neck, and purring gently and almost inaudibly.
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Post by steven on Jul 14, 2009 10:51:59 GMT -5
I heard about it. I heard ALL about it, every explosion, every siren. Sounded like fun, but these a-holes shot me up with a quad dose of tranqs to make sure I didn't join the fun. 'He turns his head towards the two girls, the mask on his face a simple titanium cover with thick leather straps, tightened down as far as they could go, to hold it to his head. His voice is deep and manly, soldierly, like something you expect out of a typical marine.'
'His guard starts getting antsy, visibly so, never having seen Steven act so very lucid after having been drugged so recently. He starts to pat the tranq gun with one hand and his tazer with the other. he swallows hard, starting to sweat. This guy is older, has been here long enough to have witnessed firsthand what the crazy un-killable man could do. Steven turns and looks at him, grinning behind the metal grillwork face-plate.' Relax sonny, I'm not killing anyone right now. I'm just happy to have some company for once, you youngins bore me with your simple "yes sir" 's day in and day out to the qoute unqoute "doctors" here.
'That really scares the guard, enough that he actually jumps up and runs down the hall toward the armory to get more security. he turns back to the girls, grinning and chuckling to himself.' Kids these days, really. So afraid of an old man like me. When I get out of here, first thing I'm doing is getting my Harley back and going for a ride. You girls wanna join me? It's one of the classic hogs from back in the 60's, when they were big, loud, and rode smooth.
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Post by Debbie Grassfielder on Jul 14, 2009 13:28:02 GMT -5
Debbie stood up again and sat on the edge of the couch next to Key, swinging her legs in front of her with her hands firmly at her sides. She giggled a little, "My name's Debbie! You look like a cat, Lady, not a key!"
She looked to Steven when he spoke, startled a little, "Hey, Mister, you talked!" When the gaurd ran off, Debbie giggled girlishly again, "They're silly! Wanna join us over here, Mister?"
Debbie got off the couch and approached Steven's wheelchair from behind. Looking around carefully, she took a grip of the handles and tried to kick the brakes open. If she could manage it without a suddent attack of orderlies and gaurds (she could easily handle the brakes themselves without question), she'd push Steven over to face the sofa with Key, before locking the wheels again and perching herself on the edge of the sofa once more. "There you go, Mister! Now we can all talk like normal people!"
She looked to Key again and smiled warmly, "One of the nice doctor ladies told me there was a fire and some mean people got hurt, but I wasn't here yet so I didn't know them."
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Post by Key Mischavitch on Jul 16, 2009 23:01:06 GMT -5
The restrained man, spoke up, Key listened with a chill. There had been an explosion and noise and sirens, what could have happened? She thought darkly to herself, more experiments? Or perhaps a max breakout, Key didn’t think that was possible, not with the kind of technology the place had, the kind of technology they used on her. She was a goddamned cat for Christ sake. Key tried to think, tried to remember what she looked like before. Surely she wasn’t born a freak.
‘Maybe we’re all that’s left’.
She said to the restrained man, who had recently ‘joined’ them, apparently Debbie had no fear. Maybe that’s why she was in an asylum. Key smiled despite herself when Debbie giggled that she looked like a cat not a Key.
"One of the nice doctor ladies told me there was a fire and some mean people got hurt, but I wasn't here yet so I didn't know them."
All Key could do was nod. ‘Got hurt’. She felt sick to her stomach, this was it. This was the rest of her life. Key looked around, there was nobody else in the lounge room, three people seemed an awfully small number for an asylum, maybe they were housed elsewhere, or getting experimented on, like Key till recently. Maybe the only reason they had all been released together was to watch how they interacted. Key turned her head; she could hear movement in the distance, behind a locked up nurses station. Someone was moving around behind there.
‘Do you know how long you’ve been here?’
She asked her two for lack of a better word ‘friends’.
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Post by steven on Jul 16, 2009 23:38:12 GMT -5
'Steven practicly giggles at that last question from Key, his chair having moved quite easily to position. He sways slowly from side to side chuckling to himself, a huge grin on his face handsome, if hidden, face.'
Time is allllll relative, is it not? I could say I've been here since the beginning, but whose, beginning, would that be, mm? Mine? Yours? the phony hospital's? Time is a thing with no meaning to many people my dear, and yet others value it greatly. I myself enjoy time, time is my greatest ally in the world. Time makes me stronger, smarter, faster. Time tells me I have exactly fifteen minutes before they come back here with enough tranquilizers to KILL a whale, just so they can get me to sleep long enough to lock me away again. My time here has allowed me to know that they can't hear a word I'm saying right now, because they are all too busy arming themselves. They fear me, because I have been here for over twenty years when you measure time by revolutions around the sun. And in my first two months or so hear, I killed nearly twenty people. That is why they have me in this steel reinforced jacket. That is why I am chained down to a chair made of tempered steel, and that is why I wear a mask.
'He grins again, despite his seemingly delirious state of insanity, this grin is genuine, his eyes even focus, the deep swirling blue oceans almost mesmerising. Odd that a man who has been here so long has such perfectly trimmed hair, only minimal stubble on his chin, and such a youthful apperance.'
it was once said "Time is the fire in which we burn." Well, my ladies, I am fireproof. THAT is why I am here, because I am in the range of seven decades old and yet remain as you see. I was planning my own escape due severla months from now, when I was sure a solo breakout would be possible for me, but if one of you two could figure out how to undo this jacket, I can get the three of us out of this hellpit and out where we can BREATHE again. Is this agreeable?
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Post by Debbie Grassfielder on Jul 17, 2009 12:29:53 GMT -5
Debbie shook her head slowly, "We're not the only ones. They keep a lot of us seperated because the mean people all worked together last time."
Steven gave his tale of time, and Debbie listened intently. She giggled when he was done, "Wow, you're very talkative today, Mister!"
She looked to Key now, to tell her own tale. "I think I've only been here a maybe four months, but I lost track of time... I used to go all over the world with my daddy to far-away places, and see all sorts of things. Then one day they took my daddy away, and some nice men picked me up and took me here." She looked up at the cieling, tucking her feet under her now and wrapping her arms around her shins. "I don't think we should try to leave, the doctors might not like it..."
It was possible Debbie might be brainwashed, or even scared, but somehow it didn't appear to be either. It was more like...she just didn't want to leave. That's why she made no movement to open Steven's jacket. She looked up at him and smiled, "Besides, if we got out, Mister, who would play with Dahli?"
((OOC: Debbie's time in PP is relative to the break-out, and since only the three of us are playing right now, I just chose a number. It can be fixed later if need-be))
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Post by Moridanu on Jul 18, 2009 3:37:22 GMT -5
((.. hehe.. better late than never eh? Ill make a new avatar some time soon I assume... anyone wanna help with a pic?... Anyhoos.. introducing my latest C... Tara: ))
*The fingers of the guard were wrapped tightly around her upper arm, digging in just enough to let her know of their presence but not enough to leave any marks. This pig was clever, he knew where to hurt her, knew how to break her, without leaving any evidence. With her brilliant sapphire blue eyes downcast, Tara “the Terror” Ross counted the tiles in the floor as her shackled feet shuffled towards the Rec room. Why she was suddenly being allowed to “mingle” with her fellow inmates was beyond her comprehension or reasoning, yet was adamant that she was not one to question the decision. Given the fact that she had been locked up in her “room” for the past three years without any visitors save for the Tower, the Doctor and the Pig, Tara supposed she should be craving human contact. Instead, a mental picture of the Pig’s dirty fingers on her alabaster skin made her stomach heave and she shuddered involuntarily. As if he sensed that he was the cause of her discomfort, the Pig smirked and snorted as he often did, one of the many reasons for the name she had given him.
~Now you listen to me you little shit..~ he snarled in her ear which was barely covered by the long stringy dirty blonde hair that hung down over her face. ~You best behave yourself in there, you hear me? I know how much you like your little pink pills.. how would you feel if they were taken away and you went back onto your injections, hmmm? All those little beasts that you saw coming to eat your skin during the dead of night? They are just waiting for you to get back on the jungle juice so they can feast..~
Tara shuddered again as her fingers hooked into claws, desperate to scratch at her skin, her handcuffed wrists behind her back making this impossible. The thought of those little monsters, screaming and clawing their way all over her skin in the middle of the night, made her want to crawl into a tight little ball and rock herself to sleep. She was grateful that the Doctor had finally taken her off that horrible blue stuff and put her on her pink pills, and the Pigs threat of taking her off them resonated throughout her entire being. She nodded and grunted as if in agreement, and as they finally reached the door, she felt his fingers release their hold on her arm as he moved to unlock her handcuffs. As he worked the key, Tara rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly at how stupid the staff were here. They shackled her feet and put her in handcuffs as though that would somehow stop her from using her power. Of course she knew that they couldn’t exactly handcuff her mind to stop it from exercising its “abilities”, no; the little pink pills were supposed to do that for them. What the staff didn’t know, was that although the pink pills made her time here slightly more floaty and hazy, they did little to dim her abilities. In fact, given the chance to test her theory without the ever watchful eye of all the cameras within the hospital walls, Tara was sure that her power had only increased thanks to the “rest” she had had over the past year. She knew that the Tower was frustrated that her abilities had seemed to vanish last year, right when his experiments had just started to get interesting. Since then, he had spent many months testing her to see if any remnants remained, but when met with the limp, mute Tara, he had had no choice but to brand her “burnt out.” Just in case though, the pink pills had been designed to ensure that no ability returned. What he didn’t know was that her abilities had never left. She had merely decided to stop being the Towers guinea pig and had stopped talking and responding to all attempts to make her do so.
Now, she stood with shoulders slumped while the Pig removed her shackles. He was thinking about how he wanted to run his hand up her leg, under the flimsy material of her hospital greens that they kept her dressed in. She felt him getting excited as images of her naked body danced through his mind, and her stomach heaved again as he thought about all the things he wanted to do to her. Tonight, once the Tower had left the building for the evening and the Doctor had retired to his lab, he would make those fantasies a reality.
Shoving these repulsive thoughts from her mind, Tara tried to shrug him away from him as he opened the door for her and shoved her through. She stumbled slightly, playing the role of the burnt out, drugged up “has been” perfectly, until the Pig was gone. Only then did she peer out from beneath her dirty blonde bangs to look around the room. Knowing nobody, she decided to take advantage of the absence of her shackles by taking a long walk around the room. Stretching her long, lithe legs felt better than she had expected and soon, she found herself near one of the large windows that faced East. The feel of the sun against her upturned face brought an unexpected tear to her blue eyes, and she wiped it away hastily before anyone could notice. *
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Post by Key Mischavitch on Jul 21, 2009 9:43:38 GMT -5
Key listened intently, but kept a stone-like expression throughout Steven’s speech, she made no move to unlock him from his chains. She’d heard it all before. She didn’t know how, she didn’t know from whom, all she knew was that he’s story was not a new one, and it never led to anything good. Truth be told the prospect of freedom was terrifying, Key tucked her feet under her body and shrunk into the couch, her long blonde hair was piled on the top of her head, she shook if free and let her golden locks fall around her shoulders. It was long, longer than she thought.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not helping you, not yet anyway. You almost killed twenty people? How many of them were patients?’
She swivelled slightly on the spot, she may not have said outright the topic was over, but her body language screamed it. Full stop. She listened to Debbie next and felt another chill; a chill she knew wouldn’t leave her, not while she spent time with the little girl. She felt sorry for her, regardless of what terrible secret her father and herself were harbouring. There was a savage intelligence behind the little girl’s eyes, she could sense it. It was an animal instinct. That being said, she couldn’t help feel ‘motherly’ towards her, even a little bit. She resisted the urge to lean forward and hug the little girl closer to her. Key could hear footsteps in the distance, not long after a pretty girl appeared, pushed from the darkness into the rec room. She didn’t say anything, but wandered, probably stretching. Key purred quietly in response to the new comer, the new scent sent her animal instincts blazing; she’d have to learn to comprehend and understand these new sensations. She heard movement again, in the distance. There was a gentle buzzing and the nurse station opened.
‘Medicine time’
An overly friendly voice spoke up. A small stocky but surprisingly handsome nurse opened the thick heavy and metal nursing station door.
‘Some of you know me, some of you don’t, I’m Margie, and I’ll be giving you your medication.’
Margie pulled out a large overside folder and began to flip through it. She was having trouble, pages and pages of thick pages and notes, made flipping through the folder difficult.
‘Ah here we go, you first I think’. She said pointing at Key, who had straightened up in her seat.
‘I don’t need anything honestly I feel fi- ‘
But Margie had vanished back into the nurse’s station.
‘Doctors orders I’m afraid, Key’
She said through the wall, she came back out with a trolley and a bag of deep crimson blood.
‘We're giving you some blood, ok dear’.
She said matter-of-factly, Key barley had time to argue before the drip was stuck into her vein.
‘Won’t take long’.
She said brightly, struggling with the large folder. Key saw her chance, it was like time slowed down, she extended her claws and grabbed a chunk of paper from the folder, hoping it was her own files. She tugged pulling it free and stuffing it behind her back.
‘Can I have a magazine?’
Key asked gently, Margie smiled brightly at Key.
‘You’ve been a good girl, I’ll just do the rounds and I’ll see what I can do.’
Key purred.
((I’ll let you guys decide what and if kind of pills your characters will get. Just don’t go nuts and kill poor Margie… hehe))
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Post by steven on Jul 21, 2009 11:20:47 GMT -5
'Steven growls at Margie, having met her SEVERAL times before, giving her a wink despite the angry rumble in his chest. he flexes his muscular frame, causing the jacket to make an odd groaning sound as it strains the contain the immense strength he posseses.' Hi there darlin, I can't beleive you would give her her meds before me. After all, you know what it is i do when I'm not contained. In case you missed it, my dear, my personal shall we say bodyguard has taken his leave. And I notice, you don't have any tranqs for me.
'He's not nearly as nuts as he seems. He just can't stand being locked up, his people have a powerful bent towards freedom, their limited social interactions with each other represent their ultimate freedom, the freedom to choose when they will meet their end, and how. His eyes darken as he glares at margie, flexing again and making the steel fibers creek.' Remember Emily, Margie? Oh you remember Emily. She was your supervisor. And Jim, the security guard who thought you were sooo adorable when you were fresh faced and young. that was what, eighteen years ago now? Too bad what happened to them. You know margie if you unlock my jacket, I won't kill YOU, on my way out...
'He throws his head back and cackles madly, shaking his head a little bit as he does so. he's very good at the psycho act, and he is a LITTLE crazy after all his time here. But a sharp eye could see the farce that it is. He's cold, calculating, thinking every second of every day of ways in which to escape. Once Margie moves far, far away from him, knowing full well she has nothing she can force into the mad man that will even slow him down, and probably realising that the guards will take care of him soon enough anyway, Steven turns back towards Key, his serious face back again.'
I never killed any other "patients" here. Afew nurses, lots of guards, and an administrator or two. The doctors were all coward enough to have hidden before I got out. I'm not a monster, but I am an animal after so much time here. I only kill the demons that stand between me and my freedom. Although, maybe if I'm REAL lucky, one of my kin will show up, one of the less moral ones, and they'll slaughter anything and everything that gets in their way til they see me. Then it's my turn to die.
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Post by Debbie Grassfielder on Jul 28, 2009 9:47:53 GMT -5
Debbie was sure to give Key one of her best, brightest, and most endearing smiles. She knew she made Key uncomfortable. She really did.
When Tara came in, Debbie looked over at the young woman and tilted her head a bit. She hadn't seen this patient before. Debbie was curious, but she didn't make any movement to go talk to her yet. Rocking back and forth on her feet now, Debbie watched as Margie came around and started administering medicine. Debbie seemed to take a keen interest in the needle penetrating Key's arm until Margie came back for Steven's ranting.
Debbie pouted a bit as Steven kept talking about getting out. She folded her arms around her legs and tucked her chin into her elbows, looking at the floor, "Gee, Mister, I kinda liked it when you didn't talk so much."
Now it was her turn as Margie came around to her side of the couch. No injections or anything for Debbie, just a blue capsule and a small, pink, square-shaped pill. It was common knowledge that most of the patients were on more than one medication, with a sedative usually in the mix, but Debbie's pills were different from everyone else's. Debbie took them with the paper cup of water Margie handed her, then returned the paper cup with a smile. As compliant as Debbie was, though, Margie never took her eyes off the girl. Maybe she was still nervous about Steven. That's it.
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Post by Key Mischavitch on Sept 13, 2009 21:00:18 GMT -5
Key smiled at Debbie’s words.
‘Actually… so did I, give it a rest for a minuet’
Key said silkily, purring at Steven through the curtains of her long wavy fringe. She kept her head down at the few stray pieces of paper scrunched behind her back. Key was still getting used to her senses, she’d been locked up for so long in the room without colour or noise or definition, the world was sharp and bright and loud. She listened, trying to distinguish the many different sounds she could hear. Debbie’s breathing, Tara’s footsteps, Stevens’ heart beating rapidly in his chest, and then clear as day, she heard them, one, two, three, Seven, Twelve. Twelve cameras slowly rotating. She couldn’t quite pick them out, but she knew vaguely where they were. Key straightened up. Pushing her back against the couch and curling her legs, tighter against her body, trying to shrink her body and vanish into the folds of the couch. It wasn’t long before Margie had done the rounds, she left without a wording, vanishing behind the nurse station, she busied herself locking up. Key sunk, further into the couch, pulling out the scrunched up piece of paper, the cameras were silent. Key was almost certain she couldn’t hide from the cameras, not at this angel, but maybe she could get a good look before they dragged her away.
Key smoothed over the paper the best she could, she managed to tear out two pieces of paper, one was labelled ‘project Tiger’ She hissed quietly under her breath. She could barley make heads of tails of it. There was too much medical jargon and blacked out sentences, but one thing she noticed was a small diagram.
It was three long thin boxes, almost like a tiny family tree, the first name encased in the first box was ‘Athalia Mischavitch’, the second was labelled ‘The Key’. The exact name the Tower had always used when he spoke to her. The last link in the chain was ‘Tiger’. Key sighed deeply and stuffed the pieces of paper inside her top.
Tiger...
((Not my best sorry...))
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