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located in S.A.A. Facility, a part of The Sibling Project, one of the many universes on RPG.

S.A.A. Facility

Sibling Allocation Act Facility

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ivy Character Portrait: Vlad Character Portrait: Specter Character Portrait: Hanne Character Portrait: Hawke Character Portrait: Novak
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vlad
mind compulsion
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specter
intangibility
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ivy
syphon touch
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What day was it? Wednesday?... No, Thursday? Ivy had kept a tally of the numbers of days she has spent in that particular cell. Since there is never a warning from the guards when they might be moving you, she had no capabilities to count the previous number before they took her from gen pop, and threw her in here. She knew the years, could count out the days with relative success, but there was something about the tallies. She didn't make them large and obnoxious like you'd imagine, but hairline dashes no longer than a centimeter, evenly spaced along the wall. From more than two feet away, they were practically unnoticeable, looking to be no more than the texture of the wall.

But no matter how many tallies she made, that still didn't tell her the day of the week nor the date. They were given the luxury of knowing the date. After all, what could a date do? It didn't divulge the truth about the world outside the facility. It didn't tell them where in the world they were, why they were there and for what purpose. It simply told them how much time was passing as the world outside their walls continued to move forward, while they all remained static.

Ivy sat on the ground in her cell, with her back against the cool concrete. She stared across the small cube at the wall of tallies. The girl sighed softly, as she opened her journal to the page her finger held. The small leather bound book was her life line... Along with the dozens of others laid out chronologically on the shelf by her bed. It had always been hard, holding onto one's sanity inside a place like this. At least in gen pop there is an influx of numerous faces to talk to, or just people watch. But for the past fifteen years it had been the same five faces.

Writing seems to be her escape, much like the others have their own hobbies of choice. Her thoughts could flood out before her as journal entries, poems or even stories of events passed within this facility. Some of the stories within those books could damn the people within the building. That is, if some semblance of a well organized society existed outside of it. Some of the things written on those pages not even her other cellmates would believe. But that didn't matter. It wasn't for them, it was for her. A way to remember everything that had happened to her, to push past it but not forget.

She tapped her pen at the top of the page, where the date was still missing. It had been a couple days since she had written. You tend to lose track once it's more than two, everything blends together in a world without windows or a sense of day and night. Ivy's fingers flipped back to the last page of the journal, looking over her own crude depiction of what she imaged a calendar to look like. With a sigh, she scratched her head before speaking up. "Specter, what's the date?"

Blue eyes looked up from beneath a curly mess of hair. His hand moving an index finger to hold his place in his current read for the day. Specter let his legs slip out from underneath him, dangling over the edge of his bed. His left hand held his place while he brought the book to his breast as he stood. Due to good behavior... Or, better than most of the others anyways. The warden had allowed him a calendar. They figured what harm could knowing the date really cause? Either way, it was a rather basic calendar, pinned up on the wall with a thumbtack. There were no pictures of cute puppies or unrealistic scenery. Just the name of the month, with the chart of the days.

Big red X's crossed out the days past. Specter would have had no clue when one day ended or another began if it weren't for their clocks being set to military time instead of standard. 08 37. Why in the hell were they up at such a disgustingly early hour? It seemed as the years dragged on, the less sleep any of them could actually get. Eventually they stopped trying to fool themselves and just be up together. His right hand rustled his curly hair as his eyes skimmed the calendar. "It's uh... Monday, October 23rd, 2237."

Monday!? For the love of God. Ivy scoffed, raising her left hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Thanks, Spec." Even in a place without the knowledge of the standard nine to five work life, Mondays were still dreadful. There were no experiments on the Sundays, only angry guards pissed they had to spend their time at the facility. But during the week? Each one of them had a day. And Mondays? They were Hawke's day.

Ivy sighed as she wrote the date at the top of the page. She then held the pen between her teeth as she tried to make words of her thoughts. After a moment, her hand began to work, ink gliding along the page...



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Monday, October 23rd, 2237
Day : 9,983 9,984


Days flood together like an endless thread, forever being pulled from the spool. A stream of consciousness of reality, harder to catch than the rippling current.

...Where is my mind?

I feel myself overcome by the constant yearning. I long to know the touch.

Would it be soft or callous?

Books tell of the electric touch, a sensation of static electricity that tingles on the skin. A touch of the lips that sends chills down the spine and quivers in your base senses. Is love possible without connection? The intimacy of a touch, a kiss, a caress.

It's a reality out of my grasp, like the world beyond these walls. If I ever know freedom outside of this cage, will it be soar or sweet? Freedom. So final, with endless possibilities. But how savory can it be when you exchange one cage for another. An organ I can't escape...

My skin, a cage...

I need freedom.




Then her hand stopped, ink spilling from her pen as the period grew in size. Ivy slowly looked up from the page, and out through the glass wall towards the other cells. Her eyes scanned those that she could see, Vlad to Novak, then Hawke. She couldn't help the sense of dread that washed over as the day sunk in. It was always hard whenever one of them was taken away. When they return another tiny sliver of them has chipped away. While the experiments make most of them angry, she always felt like it broke Hawke's spirit. She feared for him. He helped everyone else through whatever hurdles came their way, but who was there for him when he needed it? Vlad was as helpful as a lock without a key. And Ivy?... She can't help anyone.

Her gaze lingered on Hawke for a long while, before falling back to her journal. Clenching her jaw, Ivy raised her pen to the page.

I need freedom.
We need freedom.

Specter stood there in his uniform and socks, staring blankly at the calendar. His left hand continuing to hold the book to his chest as his own handwriting glared back at him. Hawke written beneath 'Monday'. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, before padding back over to his bed, plopping down on the lumpy mattress. They were all long past the point of encouragement before testing. They all knew what was coming. There is no preparation for it and nothing could be said that would make any of it better. The easiest thing, was moving on and acting like everything is normal... Or as normal as it can be.

Specter lifted his legs up, crossing them beneath himself. With a yawn, he opened the book, resting it in his lap. The text was... Well, ancient. The binding was held together by multiple temporary fixes with duct tape. It didn't have any predominant author, or significant title, simply reading 'Theology' along the plain green hardback cover. "There are over 4,200 religions in the world... Or at least there were in-" He flipped to the front of the book, searching for the copy right date. "1985."

"That's not even including ancient mythologies." How in the world could there be that many different religions? Specter couldn't even think of 4,200 names, let alone religions. "And that's just the religions. There are countless... Like millions upon millions of Gods throughout these religions." He sat there, somewhat dumbfounded as he looked between the book, Novak and Hawke.

Specter was an intellect, constantly wanting to soak up more knowledge. Sometimes that involved delving into subjects that were a bit ridiculous, and religion was definitely that for him. "I just don't get it. How can there be that many religions in the world... And every. single. person. sees their God—er Gods—as the proper ones. I feel like that would discredit the whole concept of a higher power all together if every Joe shmoe thought their God was the God."

He let his gaze fall back down to his book, flipping through the thesaurus of Gods, religions and all other unrealistic beliefs. "Evolution... Scientific fact has proved this with fossils, dinosaur bones and Neanderthals. But there isn't a single piece of proof anywhere, in the entire world, that these deities exist." Specter sighs turning the page. "...Unless you count a... Sharon Jackson's encounter with 'her guardian angel speaking to her' and she basically escaped some freak accident because she wasn't where she was supposed to be."

In Specter's mind, religion was a joke. Disregarding all the scientific facts that go against it, or the countless different religions in the world, he couldn't wrap his mind around why any God, that supposedly loved these human beings, would let shitty stuff happen to them. Like, if he was a God, you best believe his ass would zap every single guard in this facility... But then again, he'd never let anything like this happen in the first place. Judgement, a test. Bullshit. What is the purpose of putting anyone through that? It just doesn't make sense in his mind.

He scoffed as he continued to turn pages, skimming the book's contents. "I think I may actually be losing brain cells with this one." He chuckled, looking over at Hawke with a slight smile.

The moment Specter started talking, an internal switch in Vlad's mind shut his voice off. Out of everyone there, the kid just could go on and on and on. What he'd give for permission to say a sentence... Just one, single sentence. Shut the fuck up. It'd be that simple. Afro over there wouldn't be able to say another word until Vlad allowed him to, if he ever did. But no.

Vlad couldn't remember the last time he actually talked, using his own words. Not his brother as some conduit so that he wasn't a complete mute. The experiments and tests are one thing. None of that is free will. If even for a second he goes off script, they'll electrocute him so fast that he couldn't speak for a week, even if he wanted to. Fucking ridiculous. It wasn't like he chose this ability. It didn't work that way. It was like Wade Wilson... in those stupid comic books Specter read when he was fresh in this cellblock. The fuckers that ran this place just kept putting them through hell until something happened to them.

Sometimes he wondered if there was something he could have done to alter the outcome. Maybe if he would have acted differently, or... something, his ability could have been flight... Or super strength. It wasn't even that he hated it. Actually, he quite enjoyed the fact that people had to do whatever he said. It was the lack of freedom that came along with it. God, how he longed to just be able to speak his peace without having to rely on Hawke so heavily. Plus, he hated the way his brother filtered him unless they all were on an open channel mentally with each other.

He looked across the circular cellblock towards his brother. [ Ask Phantom of the Opera over there, if I say I'm Atheist, will he shut the hell up? ] Vlad smiled, although he knew his gag covered the lower half of his face, ear to ear.

Vlad laid back on his bed, reaching his left hand over the edge of the metal frame. He felt around for a minute before his fingers brushed the rough metallic strings of his guitar. He grasped its neck and hoisted it up into his lap. Once situated, he extended his legs up along the wall, crossing them at the ankles. He couldn't see Specter from his cell unless he molested the glass in the right corner. That was too much effort to give one nerd an evil glare.

"The ancient Greeks actually had a God of War. They—"

Vlad's right hand strummed quickly, while his left fingers furiously pressed different strings causing a fast and aggressive tone to reverberate around the cellblock. After Specter's voice faded off and he stopped talking, Vlad allowed his tune to slow to a calming and gentle melody.

When it seemed that Vlad was done, Specter spoke up again. "They literally had a God for everything, even—"

Then Vlad started up again. Specter groaned with frustration, chucking his book at the plexiglass wall that faced out towards the other cells. It hit the glass with a thud, then fell to the ground with a smack.

Pleased with himself, Vlad closed his eyes with a soft sigh. He tapped his crossed foot as he played a soft tune. It sounded something like a springtime lullaby. A gentle hymn that would blow through tall blades of grass as you laid out in a field, watching the clouds roll by overhead. For being such an asshole, Vlad always preferred calming songs. It kept him in a peaceful place, and helped ease tensions between the others. Not that he particularly cared how the others felt, but it made Hawke happy... So, it was one of the very few kind things he did on occasion.