Zakhar Hahn Goff's Story

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

The sound of his timid breath reverberated off of the walls of glass that surrounded him. Bubbles brushed past his naked skin as they raced to the top of the blue liquid that caressed his body. He stood in complete silence, a shade of peace on his desolate face. His body seemed almost lifeless, the water caressing, and dancing through his fingers. The only movements in the tank of blue water were the soft drifting of his red hair as it swayed back and forth, a slight quiver that shook his scarred lip, and the dancing of light as shadows were cast upon his restful face.

"What's the status on Prototype 007?"

The words came as an echo, with each the last becoming louder. They wrapping around his mind, syllable by syllable, like insects just hoping to be caught in the passing thought. With every new echo, he tried harder, to wrap his brain around the words. Every time, the thought was dropped, and never seen from again. His mind was sensitive, foggy. One thought would interrupt the other, the sounds bumping into each-other, until they all scattered from his mind.

"Fully matured and ready for extraction, sir."

What was the noise that he had tried so hard to understand? These words that floated by like moths from a feline's tongue. He knew these words, but he couldn't target his focus on them long enough to pick apart the pieces. It was a conversation; that in it's self was evident. The language seemed so familiar, but somehow forgotten. So many questions overlapped in his mind. Who were these people? Were they speaking of him?

His eyes shifted behind his lids, searching in the dark for evidence, excuses, anything that would explain to him what was happening, who he was, and what was behind his state of consciousness. His searching was interrupted by the sound of steam-releasing latches, and a blindingly bright light that pierced his closed eyes.

"Begin extraction."

The words were louder this time, and behind them followed a hard buzzing noise of machinery he had never heard before. The liquid that had comforted him so, slowly began to descend, leaving his skin unprotected and cold. His head felt heavy as the level decreased further, abandoning chills on his shoulder and neck, all the while, decreasing now to his waist-level. Finally the liquid had fully drained from the containment tube that he had spent his last few months in. His body was limp and lifeless, only being held by the restraints around his chest and legs.

"Is it.. alive?" The quivering voice brought amusement to Him. He could understand now, what they were saying. They were indeed speaking about him, as though he were a child's doll being waved about and captivating those who took him as an "it". Yes, an "it". A monster, a mutant, a beast. He had no name, no purpose, no meaning. Unequivocally, He was no one.

The room had gotten quiet, the doctors and nurses all waiting for a breath, a heartbeat. He didn't move. He stood, embraced by metal claws that held him in place, his head hung limply to the side. The atmosphere remained silent, the soft rustling of clothing as the doctors reached for their pens, their eyes locked onto him. Their attention.. all on him.

Without warning, his senses turned on. His head rolled back before lifting up, his eyes snapped open, revealing his blood-red iris. His arms moved so easily, he felt so strong. Reaching forth, he grabbed onto the metal claws that held his chest, ripping them off. The array of wires and screws plumetted to the ground.

"Let him out.. let him out!" One of the doctors called, a look of fascination and success dwelling on his face.

The claws around his ankles opened, and he stepped out of the glass structure, to be met by two nurses, who quickly wrapped him in a thick towel.

"Welcome back, Zakhar.." One of the nurses smirked, flashing her ruby red lips in his direction as she led him down a dark hallways. "Your room is this way~"

---

Beasts of Burden

"Again." A firm demand came from the chest of the head doctor as he took notes on a clipboard, his glasses slowly sliding down to the tip of his nose as he spoke.

Zakhar clenched his teeth in frustration. How could they possibly expect so much from him?

"Through the needle Zakhar!" The voice had become more frustrated, more demanding.

Zak closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was standing on a metal plate in an empty room. About twenty feet away, sat a life-like strategical dummy, holding a piece of thread and fine-pointed needle. Zakhar brought his hands out in front of him, sweeping his fingers delicately through the air. The dummy raised his hand. Zak lowered himself closer to the ground, his fingers dancing in front of him in motions quick and concentrated. Slowly, the dummy brought the thread to the needle. However, no matter how many times Zakhar tried, the dummy couldn't possibly fit the tremoring thread through the indiscernible opening.

After many more moments of frustration, Zak threw his arms to his side. In turn, the dummy dropped the needle and thread. "I can't do it.."

"Again!" The old man hissed.

Zak lifted his head, quickly glaring at the old man. His once calm and collected expression quickly turned into a wryly smirk, and a viciously malicious glance.

"Well... Doc." The pugnacious words spewed from his lips like venom. "Since you want so badly for me to fit such a large object through such a tiny hole, perhaps I should try my FOOT IN YOUR ASS."

"Ahem." The doctor coughed nervously, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "This session is just about up - why don't you go down to the commons. The Psi and Beta orientation will begin shortly~." He spoke in a suddenly higher tone, hanging a piece of paper for Zak.

Zak didn't bother glancing at the piece of paper, which would reveal his fate as a Psi or a Beta. He had no preference to either. He honestly didn't care who he was, or where he was going. Nor did he understand the difference between a Psi or a Beta. The doctors refused to tell him, so of course he assumed it was equivalent to grade A or grade B. So long as someone wasn't screaming in his ear about threading a needle, he was completely satisfied. He lit up a cigarette on his way, only inhaling a few times before his vehement mood had dissipated. Tossing the cigarette to the side, he took base against the closest possible wall, and slipped a small book out of his pocket before flipping through the pages to find where he had last left off.

The room was mostly made of metal. A few dinner tables sat secured to random spots on the white vinyl floor. Zakhar had visited the commons many, but never cared much about the desolate atmosphere. He had been told of his purpose, and as far as he knew, so had the others. As far as he had known, only one of the freshly born prototypes had denied their objectives at OKARI, and he was never seen from again. He didn't mind much about the label that the facility had put on him. Life was no longer mysterious, mystical, or magical. It was all just a day-by-day view of the world, and with eyes like his, he wouldn't be viewing much.

Though he struggled to read the words on the page, he still triumphed to finishing every book that OKARI had offered to him. Reading wasn't necessarily a hobby. He wasn't wise, and had no intentions of absorbing information. It was just something to do. Something better than anything else that OKARI had to offer. The facility was a mixing-bowel of nurses and doctors. Though many languages were tossed about, mainly English was spoken. At the beginning, Zak was required to take a short test, to base his linguistic abilities. Aside from that, he was never required to read, or write, and could only assume that those who did not already know English had to be taught.

Though buried deep in his book, across from him, just a few feet from the ceiling, was a large television. Local news was playing, something Zak chose to ignore. That was, until the piercingly painful sound of a loud speaker gone array woke him from his read.

"All prototypes, please report to the commons. All prototypes, please report to the commons." A voice practically screamed into his ear, these same words scrolling across the television, interrupting the program.

They would be arriving soon. The other guinea pigs that Zak would be forced to speak to, live with, avoid destroying. That's what they were, after all. Simple lab rats, waiting to be exterminated. To throw themselves at the enemy in exchange for a few million dollars. They were disposable.. but OKARI had made them useful and powerful. It didn't bother him that they were nothing more than items. Or in other terms:

Useful, powerful, disposable, million-dollar lab rat weapons.

Anrie Ackerman

The soft rushing sound in her ears was relaxing, and had become commonplace for the time spent in the darkness. This had become a darkness that she now acknowledged as a container for her conscious. Every now and then, imagery would assert itself in her mind and she would fade into a dream but this would be interrupted by various odd sounds that disturbed her rest and made it impossible for her mind to be wholly at ease. Only when she felt the blanket of deafening stillness fall, where even the sound of the silken liquid surrounding her went quiet, did she find repose and peace. However, this time, it wasn’t an unnatural noise that agitated her mind. This time, an unintelligible commotion beat against her hearing and woke her from her previous semi-slumber.

“All reports are positive, sir. Should we begin extraction?”

Anrie’s mind took only a few seconds to register the garbled wording. It was like the liquid around her had absorbed the meaning and gave her the sound itself. Her eyes searched the darkness that she was snug with as if for some way to possibly remain where she was comfortable without any worry. Another distorted voice reached her ears in quick succession of a smaller feminine voice but this time she couldn’t understand quite what the man was saying. She only knew that this person was a man, and that he had power to command.

“Heart rate is increasing.”…
“No matter, Begin extraction.”

Anrie sensed rather than heard silence begin to close around her, which relaxed her mind, since this was the standard process beginning her sleep period. She allowed her body to unwind, muscle-by-muscle, breath-by-breath. She was almost at the point where slumber would have stilled her body into a frozen stasis but the sharp click awoke every muscle she had relaxed. It was unlike any other sensation to feel the caress of chilled air touch her scalp and then proceed down, like sharp needles continuing a steady process of checking every pore she had on her body. Anrie gasped, lips parting in a moan as the cold air burned her lungs on intake. Her eyes refused to open, shutting tighter as if to push away all the sensation by throwing her vision further into the darkness, although white sparks bloomed along her vision, which negated the effect she desired. The tiny woman felt the solid bracelets that she had forgotten were encircling her wrists fall away and she slumped to her feet, rustling the bracelets on her ankles by pulling her legs closer to her body. The pale-skinned woman whose sleek black hair clung to her face still soaked by the previous liquid trembled weakly.

The next few moments which felt like hours were filled with constant noise and sensations. The buzz of scientists scribbling notes like they had seen something so fascinating filled her mind as she slowly uncurled and managed to feel around with her fingers. Hesitantly, Anrie forced her eyes to open to help her get a feeling for the objects around her. Her senses continued to awaken by the bright glare of lights, the noise of scratching pens, the rustle of papers, the various voices murmuring reports and notes, and the sound of approaching footsteps that seemed careful and tenacious.

“Are you okay? Do you remember your name? Age?” The hand that touched her naked shoulder was extremely hot but then again Anrie realized that she was tremendously cold and that was the cause for her tremble. “I’m cold. Anrie Ackerman? Also, I’m nineteen.” The woman turned her head, the soft honeyed hair on top of her head falling of her shoulders. Anrie got the full image of Mary in the sunlight of the gardens and the sharp sound whispered from her lips before she could stop it. The woman, now looking more like a nurse as Anrie scanned her further creased her brow in worriment. “No, my dear. You got only one right. You are Anrie Ackerman. You’re twenty now. Okay?” The woman’s gentle tone caused Anrie to cease her struggling and the tranquility could be seen as it fell over her expression.

“Yes.” Anrie murmured and took the hand that the woman had extended to help her up. “I’m Santaio, I’m here to help. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and prepared. I’ll take care of you.” The woman’s exotic features and gentle smile warmed Anrie’s body from the core up to her chest. The feeling was pleasant and the muscles in her hand clenched tighter around the nurse’s much larger hand.

---

Anrie stood in a small room dressed in her usual business attire. Santaio sat in a chair at the back of the room and the scientist from before with the booming, authoritative voice that she recognized from when she had been reborn was standing not far behind where one of the rubber dummies stared at her. Other dummies were also nearby but they were made from materials like steel, titanium, plastic, and other various resources. She heard the strong bark of an order and didn’t hesitate to repeat her previous action. Not with Santaio watching her, because this was a once in a lifetime chance to prove her worth to someone she adored. Her expression remained as dead as always but her swift movement was barely follow as she leapt as the rubber dummy and phased through the material. The only difference was the severe breathlessness coming so inaudibly from her tiny body that it was scarcely heard. The man spoke up, his voice lightened by approval.

“Well done. Anrie. Please repeat on the titanium alloy two more times since you have more trouble with that one.” His dark beady eyes full of questions and pressure didn’t faze her because she could see the smile of Santaio’s face. She nodded and turned to follow the order. She would never complain, never question, nor dare to disobey because these people needed her. They trusted her. The corner of her lips twitched which was the only indication to her satisfaction because she could never figure out how properly work her facial expressions and she didn’t quite care too either. They were fine the way they were. Nothing pleased her more than Santaio and even then, she wasn’t required to stress herself with trying too hard.

---

After being cleaned up by her personal nurse she laid on the bed contented to watch Santaio, the nurse, wander around her room documenting whatever it was that she cared about. Every now and then, the woman would glance over with those wide brown eyes and smile warmly but then return to work. Anrie would wait patiently, her own crimson-colored eyes seeming uninterested in everything that surrounded her. Even her lips drew a nice straight line of disinterest.

“Anrie, dear, Psi and Beta orientation starts soon. Get changed into something cute and stand at the door.” Santaio turned and gestured at the clothes set out for the week. They were all assortments of skirts and blouses, items that Anrie had requested very politely and meekly to Santaio, nervous to disappoint her. “Yes.” She didn’t ask what Santaio meant by ‘cute’ but she would try her very best to figure it out. Anrie stood briskly and wandered over to the neatly folded pile, examining the clothing with a critical eye. Finally she pulled out a pressed, white blouse with long sleeves and a pleated black skirt. She picked out some black closed-toe sandals and slid her feet into them after she dressed herself properly. She glanced about for her glasses but Santaio appeared with them in hand. “Here, your last pair broke remember? I got some new ones for you sweetheart.” Anrie nodded and slid the glasses tenderly from the woman’s hand and onto the bridge of her nose. The weight settled comfortably and she continued her order by running her slender fingers through her short hair, straightening out the very rare rebel strands. “Thank you.” Anrie mumbled as she noiselessly strolled over to the door.

“No problem at all. Let’s go, you look wonderful. I’ll drop you off at the commons.” Anrie waited for Santaio to take the lead and eventually followed a few feet behind. She kept her gaze cast to tiled floor, paying no mind to the figures, objects, and passersby that the duo happened to run into. She wouldn’t bother sense she only had the objective of listening to the orders given. The rest was unimportant. There was no set priority for things like attention to detail unless they told her too.

They arrived at the commons and Anrie was ushered inside but left alone almost as soon as she had taken a few steps inside. She stared at the exit for a few seconds before deciding that it was an implied instruction to stay where she had been placed. Anrie took that moment to dissolve into the shadows across the way from where statuesque-like man read a book.

"All prototypes, please report to the commons. All prototypes, please report to the commons."

The static voice surged from the intercom and Anrie raised her head to search for the source of the noise but lowered it upon recognition of where it had come from, the only movement seen in the dim, but not black, shadow in her corner.

The next entrance came a redheaded woman, slender and unique. "Glad to see I've got pleasant company," she stated, towards the man. Anrie closed her eyes as if to shut out the world, although from the outside it probably would have appeared like she was showing snobby disdain for the woman because her lips turned down ever so slightly at the corners. “This should be a god damn blast." The woman seemed sarcastic enough. Anrie didn’t bother to catch the next comment as she blocked out the sounds for a few blessed seconds and gathered herself back to thinking about her new instruction. How would she perfect this? Would she be the model student who asked valuable questions in an orientation or the responsible, silent type?

Anrie opened her eyes to half-mast, simply staring at nothing at all, lost in her thoughts. Her arms had crossed themselves and her right leg had overlapped over the left at the ankle as she steadied her weight on the wall behind her. She paid no mind to the procession of people unless one caught her interest or curiosity. She only glanced up every now and then to catalogue a face and then returned to her muteness.

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

"Attention!" the words floated with a raspy tone, bouncing off of the quiet metallic room, and bringing the already calm and awkward atmosphere to a silent halt. The voice had been directed by a tall, grim looking man. His face held a thin complexion, his cheekbones jutting from below his eyes in almost a morbid fashion. His spectacles hid the dull brown irises above his sagging lids. He had the features of a man in his mid 60s; short grey hair, wrinkles from head to toe, and a thin-lipped grimace to make his disgust just apparent enough. In general, he seemed the type to avoid pissing off. He had with him a clip-board and a pen, which he lifted into position as he cleared his throat to begin his directions.

"You should have all received a clearance card from your instructors. Please take a look at the bottom line."

Zak slipped his book into his back pocket and replaced it with the folded paper that his instructor had given him. On the bottom line, in a poorly inked stamp read "Psi".

"All prototypes with the clearance for Psi, please stay here. Betas, please follow me."

With that, the gangling old man turned on his heels, and made his way down the shady hall way, not expecting them to follow, nor listening for the footsteps of the timid prototypes. He walked with his clipboard at his side, his classy black shoes just barely scuffing the ground as he disappeared down the poorly lit hall.

Zak crumpled the useless paper in his hand and tossed it to his feet, making his way across the empty room to take a seat at one of the tables and continue his humble read. Of course they wouldn't bother explaining the purpose of Psi and Beta. Time was money, after all.

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

It had been a struggle to follow the words with the constantly noisy events poking at his attention, but Zak had finally made it to the last page. He tossed the rugged chunk of paper onto the table and glanced to the side. What a waste of time. The others hadn't seemed so bad. The comical anecdotes coming from a few tables down had not been as much in his taste, as the interest peaked by the women who had been telling them.

More intrigued was he by the girl that had simply stated her name. Perhaps he would converse with her and the others. He stood from his seat, his gangling build allowed for sharp anchorage, his body thin but strongly built, and his arms long with enough toned muscle to make for an over-all appealing torso.

He never minded the company of others, but seeing as he was quite awkward with social interaction, an ice breaker would be sought. He had always kept close ties with the staff of OKARI, tossing meaningless compliments every which way. It had gotten him far, insurmountably creating quite the suck-up. He didn't mind the title, it meant nothing to him. Nor did any of the doctors, nurses, or even kitchen maids, whom's favor he had easily hooked around his finger.

Making his way to the furthest wall, where two metallic blinds covered what was a service counter that had offered him many meals before, he tapped softly on the wall behind him. The blinds quickly opened, and a woman in her mid-thirties leaned out, craning her neck to search for the source of the tapping.

"Oh, Zakhar." She smiled the affable smile that Zak so commonly over looked. "What can I get you?"

"Coffee." He flashed the woman with three fingers, an explanatory request that she took immediately, ducking back under the blinds and soon returning with three fresh cups of coffee.

"Mrs. Rosenburg." He stepped in front of the counter, a hand in his pocket as he leaned forward, his fingers reaching towards the woman's chest for a beaded necklace with a small diamond on the end. He lifted the jewel gently on the tip of his finger without hesitation, glancing up at the woman who was now red in the face. "This is new."

"Why.. why yes. My husband gave it to me last week."

"Lovely." He had let the diamond slip from his finger as he leaned back out through the window, snatching the three cups of coffee and making his way back to the tables. Even to him, this voice showed a tone of aloofness, but never-the-less, the woman smiled before shutting the blinds once more.

He set the three coffees at the table that the Jane girl had claimed. They were all quite attractive, the three women who had taken base so timidly together. Yet they stayed quiet, awkward in their own little bubble, as if all of this would come to an end, and they would never have to speak to each other again.

"Zakhar." The introduction had been directed towards Jane, a parody of sorts. It had also been an attempt to get a few words from the others. He separated the coffees, handing one to the girl with glasses, then Jane, and the last to the girl, who had features almost boyish compared to the others. "It will wake you up." He gestured to the coffee.

All in all, he was a socially acceptable person. The awkward limits of conversation bared a heavy mark on his personality, but gaining the trust of others was an important factor when you were a killing machine. It was something new to him, "friendship". However, it was something to do, and he was running quite short on books to read.

Irene's gaze went immediately to the door, interested in the spectacle. It seemed a couple of the Betas, a dark haired woman and this "Mr.Lorentz", were not happy with the total lack of information. It looked like it would dissolve into a fight, probably with the scientist being killed or worse. Lorentz hurled a spike at the man. It was made of some aluminum that he had been messing with before that probably had been a pop can. Irene calmly wondered if his power was simply manipulation of objects, or if it was something more complex than that. Suddenly, wires darted out from a man that Irene hadn't noticed before. One of the wires that hadn't sliced the spike, and the floor, wrapped around the scientist's neck. The mysterious man then got them going to their destination. It was supposedly some meeting, though Irene doubted that was the whole truth. With that, the Betas shuffled down the hall and out of sight.

With almost half of the prototypes now out of the room, Irene was feeling ever so slightly more comfortable. She was used to waiting quietly, though the first while she had been here she hated never knowing what was going on, she eventually became used to it. Now, however, some of the other Psi were trying to start conversation and get to know each other. She decided it would be a nice change, and she listened attentively to each introduction.

The first man, who started the conversation, said his name is Francis Washington, Wash for short, and some nonsense about painting and walking on the beach. He was a tall man with long, dark hair drawn back into a ponytail. The next was Jane, whose brother had greeted Irene. She hoped that he would be alright, but quickly pushed the thought away. It was useless to worry or become attached at a place like this where everyone was replacable. Next was the woman who called herself Vein. She seemed confident, even showing a sarcastic sense of humor that Irene found refreshing in all this blandness.

While the others were introdicing themselves, the man who had seemed busy reading a book apparently finished and was talking to a woman at the service counter. A moment later, he set a few cups of coffee infront of them while introducing himself as Zakhar. She nodded at him with an abrupt, "Thank you," before introducing herself. "I am Irene Thompson. You may call me whatever you wish, I don't much care." The statment didnt seem to be to anyone in particular, but to everyone in the room. She calmly sipped the coffee, enjoying the warmth and bitterness. It did wake her up a bit, and she enjoyed it.

Anrie Ackerman

Anrie sat still in her chair as the betas completely left. The room’s babble lessened once more before the man who had been chatty since the moment he had came in spoke up again. This time she listened in, getting the sense that she would be passing time with these people whether she wanted too or not.

"Since it seems like we'll be involved with each other for the moment. Having a name to a face is much more beneficial in any team situation, especially if its football, so why not introduce yourselves. Like I was about to say, I'm Francis Washington, just call me Wash. I enjoy painting and long walks on beaches. It's a pleasure to finally be able meet you all" Anrie gazed at him, wondering how he could talk so much in a situation like this where he was surrounded by possibly dangerous people and had the chance that many of them not want to talk, might simply hate him for saying anything at all. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, a subtle sign of displeasure.

However, she waited patiently. Anrie would introduce herself in a moment when she had gathered the information from the others. How would she do it? Was a simple greeting efficient? Did they want all her hobbies? Anrie realized she was still gawking and lowered her gaze to her lap to think but a feminine voice, sounding restless, paused her thoughts and made her raise her gaze to find the speaker. “Jane.” Anrie straightened in her seat, finding that perhaps she could find a balance in the conversational technique. If she could use a friendly approach and yet find simplicity at the same time, approval would be secured. ‘Hello. I’m Anrie Ackerman. Pleased to meet you…No that wouldn’t work. Is it too formal? How would I greet Santaio? A variation of that would perhaps work. I’m pleased to meet all of you. My name is Anrie Ackerman. Ahah!’ She found the answer to her trouble right as the next woman spoke. "Alright, my name's Vein. I occassionally turn into a walking shard of crystal in my free time." Vein drawled, taking another sip from her flask after her introduction. "And if I'd have known this would have been socialite hour, I woulda gotten drunk off my ass beforehand." Anrie placed a hand to her lips hiding the inner chuckle that didn't quite make it to her outside appearance but was there in her mind. The woman certainly had funny jokes for being such a seemingly rowdy person. Anrie brushed off the amusement and restlessly took her raised hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear and return to her own introduction.

She started to speak but a coffee cup settled down in front of her and she quieted, following the hand up to see the red-haired man. "Zakhar." Anrie nodded, and put the face to the name like she had done for the others. He seemed rather agreeable compared to her first analysis of his attitude. "It will wake you up." He gestured to the coffee but Anrie glanced to the last person to speak up and waited before she did anything. Her expression bordered on calm boredom and interest, which was an odd combination. "Thank you," The woman spoke to Zakhar before beginning, "I am Irene Thompson. You may call me whatever you wish, I don't much care." Irene sipped at her coffee and Anrie contemplated her attitude. Maybe Irene felt the same way she did? The answer was most likely not. She looked down at the sophisticated looking coffee cup sitting in front of her and she felt the corner of her lips pull ever so slightly. Almost a smile but the feeling faded as soon as it came and she exhaled serenely.

Anrie tenderly reached forward and curled her hands around the warm cup, looking into the depths of the black liquid as she prepared her own introduction, going over the key points again. Perfection was the first key.

“Thank you, Zakhar. I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Anrie Ackerman. I hope that we will all experience pleasant times together.” She raised her eyes and cast them over the people surrounding her, emotionless strength whispering from her crimson gaze. She truly hoped that the future would bode well and that she would not be facing these people in battle. For one to have bloodstained hands was for one to place a responsibility upon their shoulders. She didn’t believe in this rule. She killed because it was necessary and if any of them became something that was necessary to kill, she could not hesitate no matter her feelings on it. Anrie raised the cup gingerly and took a small sip.

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

“Thank you, Zakhar. I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Anrie Ackerman. I hope that we will all experience pleasant times together.” He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the seamlessly exercised words as they left the subtle lips of this 'Anrie' woman. They truly expected such a frail, doll of a female to stand ground as a blood-thirsty killing machine? The woman to had introduced herself as Irene held a spot on the opposite side of the spectrum. She was far less frail, far more equipotent. She, at least, he could see holding her ground in the face of death. He retained the doubt in his mind for no more than a minute before simply shrugging it off and returning to his previous state of mind. The kind that felt numb to all of the questions surrounding him in this aphotic world.

"Yeah." Was all he replied with. There was no need to say anymore, and even if the need had arisen, his options were rather ambiguous. He had a way with elders, beings he could see in the light of death, and simply turn his back on in a sense that lacked humanity, and compensated in betrayal. They were simply humans of which had no emotional ties to him. However, when the only memories you sustain are of such a place as OKARI, you very rarely would meet a person of such youth. He received a different vibe; a sense of vivid equality between he and the others. They all had a similar scent. That sharp virile smell of tampered blood, a glorious river just below the soft custodial layers of flesh that concealed their bones. The scent, though easily obscured and somewhat difficult to retrieve, had long stayed stagnant and feeble in the large and desolate room.

Zak reached into his pocket to retrieve his near-empty pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips, lifting to it, a lighter. Shielding the flame with his palm, he lit the end of the cigarette. The dancing stream of grey and white lifted in front of him, taking to the ceiling and burning his eyes with tender grasps, nearly budging for vexation. He had made sure he was the only one standing, so as not to bother those closest to him with the pestiferous smoke.

His eyes shifted to the side of the room, avoiding the severity of the awkward mood that could unfold. Without directing it towards a soul, or for that matter, even looking into the eyes of those he was speaking to, he pulled the cigarette from lips and exhaled a thick fog of opaque smoke.

"Nice to meet you."

Frustration seemed to pound through every single of beat of her slender fingers as the sibling tapped her nails against the table. Her restlessness showed in the tension of her shoulders and the inclination of discontent in her gaze. A gaze which seemed to refuse acceptance of anyone within that cold room. “Jane” She’d said simply without looking up to address anyone.

“Thank you, Jane” Francis bowed.

Briefly, his sharp eyes observed Jane with hint of sorrow, like a farmer to his sick livestock before he sat down as if stepping of stage. Francis’ handsome face came to rest against his hand as he waited patiently for the introduction of the others. His constant grin implying his wry amusement. He didn’t have to wait long.

"Alright, my name's Vein. I occasionally turn into a walking shard of crystal in my free time." Vein drawled, taking another sip from her flask. Francis’ hazel eyes followed the motion up and down as if it where natural. "And if I'd have known this would have been socialite hour, I woulda gotten drunk off my ass beforehand." He chuckled lightly at the remark, the words suiting her prior action perfectly.

Temporarily, Vein’s lips betrayed the slightest hint of a smile and perhaps amusement at Francis’ mannerisms. Francis hummed in return to her introduction, his soft features contradicting her boldness. He appreciated her good sense of humor, a rare quality in a place such as this. “Ha, Never fear, I’m sure plenty of other opportunities will present themselves in future” He greeted her with another smile, his voice filled with mirth. His other hand gestured with a nonchalant wave whilst he looked towards her flask once more. “Besides, I always hear it’s more enjoyable to drink in the presence of others, particularly ones as raggedy as us”

Quite suddenly, the red haired man stood up, a tiny, dissatisfied twitch of his mouth the only indication of his thoughts. As if on some hidden signal, one of his long, spider-like limbs had discarded his book to the side like a dead fly. That book that he’d been so keenly reading over the course of the orientation. Zahkar was his name. A creature guided by fickle whims it seemed. Francis had merely nodded his head in agreement when the man returned with a trio of steaming cups in hand.

Another woman did likewise and nodded her thanks as she simultaneously addressed Zakhar and the group, "Thank you, I am Irene Thompson. You may call me whatever you wish, I don't much care." Her face gave of a contented look as she sipped from the warm liquid. Irene's calm figure exuded a quiet confidence and like Vein, she was bold, but bold in action as opposed to emotion.

“Thank you, Zakhar. I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Anrie Ackerman. I hope that we will all experience pleasant times together.” Anrie was last but not least. Her quiet introduction only came after much deliberation as her mouth struggled to form the right words. She’d startled him at first, with her crimson eyes and a staunch gaze which contradicted her tender figure. Like before, her thoughts became a mystery to him. Her introduction was delivered without any inflection of emotion, her voice and attitude verging on boredom and indifference. Still, he was glad that she'd spoken at all. It meant that she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of socialising. He had to resist the urge of teasing these two woman, Irene and Anrie, their quiet personalities fueling his curiosity. Instead he settled his attention on the distinct smell of tobacco once more.

Zakhar had lit a cigarette once more in reply before speaking, the smoke hovering over his face, "Nice to meet you."

At that, Francis clapped once, apparently taking a moment to gaze at them all as he rubbed his hands together. “That’s everyone! Well done team Psi! And fear not…” He commended them all with his delighted expression, his white grin almost gleaming under the light. “No matter what situations may arise in future, no matter your pasts, I can earnestly say that is my greatest pleasure to be able to meet you all now. We all share a similar fate, so at the very least lets enjoy ourselves for the moment. These meetings don't come often afterall”

John hesitated over the threshold, not because he was surprised at the room (he had long ago stopped being surprised at the range of environments housed in the OKARI base), but because stepping into the room was like falling underwater, like stuffing his head with cotton. He couldn't see into anyone's head anymore. There were no more sights or sounds filtering through his head. He stifled his reaction and sauntered over to the cushy, generic-looking couch. He threw him self down on it, so that he was sprawled lazily over one corner.

"It's probably just another test," he said with deliberate loudness. He had no doubt that they were being monitored in some way by someone. If there was a fight coming, he was more comfortable playing the dumb blonde than announcing his intentions. And if any of the other Betas were convinced by them and could be made into human shields, so be it.

---

Jane was annoyed when Francis accepted her curt introduction with charm and graciousness. The chatty girl called herself Vein, which was stupid. She kept petulantly silent, closing her eyes. John wasn't hurt. He wasn't panicked. Maybe she was overreacting...

"Zakhar." Her musings were interrupted when the crimson-haired boy set a hot cup of coffee in front of her. Jane almost thought he had made a joke the way he introduced himself. She eyed the cup he put in front of her, before taking it and drinking it down. She wouldn't even admit to herself that the small twinge she felt was gratitude. She sipped the drink while tapping her nails against the table, a staccato rhythm to accompany her agitation. Her fury only rose the longer they spoke and exchanged pleasantries. The girl who bored her was Anrie, the girl who stared was Irene (though apparently Jane had express permission to find a name more suitable), and golly gee, weren't they all just so thrilled to be together forever! Finally, she slapped her palm down on the table, hard.

"Pardon my manners," she snarled, "But I just want to be clear. Are we only pretending to engage in inane chatter while God know who decides who knows what about our immediate futures, or are we actually that dense?"

---

Vein agreed with Francis' incentive and, as if to show it, tilted her container to the room, took another sip, and then pocketed it once more. Everyone else introduced themselves afterward, and she found that their names were Zahkar, Irene, and Anrie. She eyed the coffee that she didn't receive with a mild amount of bitterness, but she could understand why the red headed guy wouldn't have gotten her a cup as well. She was kind of an obnoxious asshole who still went by a call name she'd given herself when she was fourteen and "goth". She laughed at the word, and her own stupidity, and suddenly her desire for their coffee had vanished because she didn't really give a shit.

All of her "team mates" were weirdos, herself included, albeit they had their charms. Zakhar was awkward but sociable enough, Irene blunt but to the point, Anrie formulated by polite nonetheless, Francis chatty but well intentioned, Jane curt but the only one who didn't seem to be currently deluding herself. She wondered idly if they'd ever accomplish much of anything. Then Zak was lighting a cig and Vein considered fetching one of her own but didn't for the sake of not looking like some sort of mime.

Wash clapped his hands and began to spill out an inspirational speech. She had to applaud him for preaching to such an unmoved crowd. Clearly none of the other occupants in the room were easily enthused or even a little bit inspired, but he certainly tried. She could appreciate that kind of tenacity, though she was sure he must have been faking everything he said. No one could be that genuinely happy after OKARI. No one. So, even if she doubted his sincerity, it was noted that he gave effort to being a civil human being.

"Pardon my manners," Jane growled. "But I just want to be clear. Are we only pretending to engage in inane chatter while God know who decides who knows what about our immediate futures, or are we actually that dense?" she had said. Vein laughed, loud. She barked it out, not even trying to seem she didn't find the outburst hilarious- not making fun of her, but rather the other way around. Her spunk was refreshing, and her words rang with a truth that Vein had been thinking this entire time. Honestly, Vasanta was as frustrated with their situation as Jane seemed to be, so the vocalization was something she delighted in. She let her chuckles die out, and wiped a tear from her eye. "Pretty sure it's the latter of the two," she answered with a sigh, cracking her neck and giving one of those wry grins that really meant, "what the fuck are we doing here?"

Zakhar Hahn Goff

---

"Pardon my manners, but I just want to be clear. Are we only pretending to engage in inane chatter while God know who decides who knows what about our immediate futures, or are we actually that dense?"

The outburst had prodded at his nerves, interrupting his peaceful smoke. He caught the burning stick between to fingers and lifted it delicately from his lips, exhaling another batch of the filthy grey clouds that dimmed his poor vision even further. Slowly, his crimson eyes darted to the clarion who had played out of turn.

"Jane... was it?" His voice rattled behind his chest, the kind of raspy that brought both fear and fascination. His lungs pleaded for more of the thick smoke that calmed his nerves, and contained his urges to chain restraints in the back of his mind. He turned to Jane, dropping his cigarette to the ground, crushing the remains with his boot as he stepped closer to the table that separated he and the girl.

Planting his palms on the surface, he lowered himself to meet her gaze. It was almost humorous how ignorant she was. It had also irritated the hell out of him, and as much as he had 'hoped' to create sufficient relationships, he had no intentions of relating, supporting, or even enjoying the company a single person in sight.

He gestured slightly to his right, where cameras hung from the walls, scanning the room with their keen lens eyes. Just below, a guard stood, a belt of highly sophisticated equipment on hand, and to the right of him and close to the ceiling, a large one-way mirror kept watch of the activity below, enshrouding what he could only assume was a small staff of scientists, taking notes, watching tapes, and reporting every movement that they had made.


"If you object.." A grin had begun to form, simply derived from the imaginative pleasure of witnessing what could be her death. He locked his eyes onto hers, his expression dull, his head tilted to the side just enough to display a spark of entertainment as he spoke slowly, calmly, as though the subject taking in the words was no more than a simple child who had not understood the wrongs that had been committed.

"They. Will. Kill. You."

Anrie Ackerman

Anrie took a healthy swallow from the teacup before holding it close, her pinky up elegantly as if she had no worries in the world. Inside her mind however, was a flurry of questions, remarks, and comments. She eyed the cigarette that Zakhar had pulled out conveniently and wondered; did the nicotine really help to relieved stress? If it did, perhaps it was a habit she should have tried. The mental image of her smoking however seemed uncool and she discarded the idea, returning to take another sip from her own drink but found that there was none to have. She set the cup down and narrowed her eyes, the first real sign of emotion in a desolate place.

Anrie raised her gaze and nodded slightly at Francis who had begun his constant babble again. This time it was to praise them for being good kids. Anrie would have blushed if Santaio had been in that chair saying those words. No, she would have blushed and cried tears of joy. She marveled if she would ever hear those beautiful words from her favorite person. The thought was enough to want to go running to ask right then and there. Anrie pushed the thoughts away to try and refocus her attention.

“No matter what situations may arise in future, no matter your pasts, I can earnestly say that is my greatest pleasure to be able to meet you all now. We all share a similar fate, so at the very least lets enjoy ourselves for the moment. These meetings don't come often after all” Anrie tilted her head, vaguely perturbed by his words. In no way at all did they share the same fate. Where she believed that they would die unfulfilled and lonely, she would live to be praised and loved. This made her expression relax into a serene blankness, as if in her own world once more.

However, a rather extreme movement broke her beautiful daydream into pieces. "Pardon my manners," Jane snarled, "But I just want to be clear. Are we only pretending to engage in inane chatter while God know who decides who knows what about our immediate futures, or are we actually that dense?" Anrie sighed lightly and clasped her hands in her lap. While lost in her thoughts she had forgotten where she was, and whom she happened to be surrounded by. Of course, she didn’t want to become estranged like the rest of them nor become friendly. She had almost accomplished losing sight of her mission at hand.

Vein began to laugh at the tiny woman’s remark as if it were the world’s funniest joke. Anrie scowled, not visibly able to be seen, but only noticeable by the bare quirk of her downturned lips. Her eyes were cold orbs hiding behind a mask, and behind that mask lay quiet annoyance. Vein spoke up after wiping her tears and stilling. "Pretty sure it's the latter of the two," Vein answered with a sigh, then proceeding to crack her neck in a masculine appearance, or at least it seemed masculine to Anrie. Then again, she couldn’t do it herself so maybe it was just jealously speaking. Anrie bit the inside of her lip reminding herself not to get carried away.

"Jane... was it?" Anrie perked, caught by the tone of his voice. Zakhar flicked his cigarette away, the movement causing Anrie to stiffen. He stepped closer to the table and she went so very still. So still, that she would have been a corpse if not for how she was sitting, watching very carefully as the situation unfolded. Zakhar placed his hands on the table meeting Jane’s gaze. Anrie didn’t bother to see the reaction of Jane. The slow display was interesting and she had no wish not to see what would happen next.

He gestured slightly to his right, where cameras hung from the walls, to where a guard stood, and to the large one-way mirror kept watch of the activity below probably hiding the scientists who had only study in mind. Anrie took this in, but then, she had already known of the watchful eye of OKARI.

"If you object.." A grin had begun to form on Zakhar’s face, one so cruel and vicious that she glanced at Jane briefly to see if there was an attack ongoing. Her breath caught, freezing in its track as excitement pulsed through her veins. The thing however that made her so stilled and so excited was that he had remained calm in voice ever since the beginning. It reeled you in and before you could realize it, you were caught in its web, unable to run.

"They. Will. Kill. You." Anrie let out the breath she had been holding and pulled her gaze away to stare down at the table. It was the truth. Disobeying orders would get you killed. You were here not because you wanted to be. They were here because they had a job to do and unfortunately, OKARI has chosen them to do it without failure. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly to prepare her words. “I agree. Most of us here probably know that they have a plan for us. However, with that in mind, OKARI won’t tell us all the details. Only the one’s that matter, to get whatever job it is done.” Anrie opened her eyes slowly, watching her fingers fidget and rearrange themselves on her lap. “My suggestion is to wait to see what they ask of us and then to act based on that.” She went silent, and raised her gaze to view the others with her calm exterior. The chatter had been better than this atrocity of a conversation, she mused.

There was one long beat of silence after Jane's outburst, the kind of silence that was just an instant longer than normal. Jane knew what that silence was. It was the sound of breaking the fourth wall, addressing the audience. It was the extra beat that came when you forgot to play along and pretend that they were anywhere other than the center of lab rat's maze, no more loved or valued than an expensive microscope.

And then the beat was over and Vein laughed. She laughed long and hard. John had played her the sound of laughter from outside before. Vein laughed easily, without malice, but it seemed to Jane that laughter was never quite so bitter on the outside. She laughed for too long and wiped a tear from her eye when she was done. "Pretty sure it's the latter of the two," she said.

Zakhar sighed from the other end of the room. "Jane... was it?" he said. Jane didn't answer as he flicked his cigarette away and moved closer to her table. He laid his palms flat on the table and leaned down so that his mismatched eyes were on Jane's level. His closeness immediately set Jane on edge and her lips curled back into a snarl. He flicked a wrist to their right where the ever present army of cameras, guards, and scientists watched impassively, so unobtrusive that you could almost fool yourself into believing that they weren't even there. The fact was, they were so present that sometimes they did seem invisible, like the air around them. "If you object..." Zakhar said, a slow smile creeping across his face. "They. Will. Kill. You."

Slowly, carefully, Jane planted her own fists against the table and stood, leaning forward into Zakhar's gaze so that their foreheads almost touched. This was life in OKARI. A constant struggle to keep your place. Jane didn't feel pain the way others did, a trait that normally made her more calculated, but now, the knowledge and her agitation made her reckless. Zakhar's attitude infuriated her. She narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah, it was," she said, her voice pitched low to match his. "My name, I mean. It's Jane." The scientists had learned that adrenaline kicked her power into high gear, turning the light energy she absorbed into usable fuel for her body. The world around her sharpened and she was more aware of Zakhar's deep, even breath. Her muscles felt stretched tight and ready.

It was what she needed. Something immediate and pressing. Violence of any kind, even just the threat, had always had a calming effect on her. It forced her to think clearly when she would normally let herself be carried away. She had been letting the power build, planning on unleashing it all at Zakhar at once, but Anrie's voice shook her out of her thoughts. “I agree," the girl said, so quietly that whatever she said hardly mattered. "Most of us here probably know that they have a plan for us. However, with that in mind, OKARI won’t tell us all the details. Only the one’s that matter, to get whatever job it is done. My suggestion is to wait to see what they ask of us and then to act based on that.”

Jane didn't break Zakhar's gaze, but her thoughts were running in straight lines again. Stupid. The way one survived in OKARI was to play the game. But God, was she ever tired of games. Suddenly, the snarl dropped and a small smile played on the corners of her lips. It didn't touch her eyes.

"Maybe Francis is right," she said in a flat, dead voice. "This is turning out to be the greatest pleasure," she pronounced the phrase with enough malice to be acidic, "to make your acquaintance." She finally broke away from Zakhar's gaze to give him a disdainful look from top to bottom. "So glad we're working together," she hissed. Then she very deliberately turned her back on those mismatched eyes and sat down again, this time leaned back with her elbows on the tabletop, her legs crossed at the knee, the perfect picture of lazy self-confidence.

Francis watched the entire exchange with a mixture of something resembling mild amusement and surprise. Jane seemed to be on the verge of exasperation, her slender figure trembling with barely contained incredulity. Her long dark hair almost seemed to frizz with the outburst as her narrowed eyes fixated on Zahkar angrily. She stood forwards, slowly and deliberately bringing her face up to match Zahkar’s own impassive expression.

Despite his own self-evident amusement, Francis’ muscles tensed as he felt the conflict escalating to boiling point. His hazel eyes glared at the two, prepared to use his own power and break up the fight if necessary. He wasn’t overtly thrilled by the prospect of a duel between prototypes in an enclosed space such as the commons room. Not when six of them where packed in it, and especially not when it wasn't necessary. Zahkar looked sensible enough, but Jane, brimming with uncharacteristic fury, looked just about ready to start something.

By either pure luck or judgment, Anrie chose her moment to speak then. “I agree. Most of us here probably know that they have a plan for us. However, with that in mind, OKARI won’t tell us all the details. Only the one’s that matter, to get whatever job it is done.” Anrie spoke, her eyes opening to view her fingers fidget and rearrange themselves on her lap. “My suggestion is to wait to see what they ask of us and then to act based on that.” She finished and gazed at the rest in silent calm.

Jane seemed to recompose herself at the intrusion, her shoulders easing and releasing the tension which had perceptibly built up within her. Francis did likewise, leaning back into his seat as his hand hovered over the table. He ran his fingers across the cold surface in waves, playfully toying with his own imagination of how the team would work together. Jane’s reply to Zahkar was reminiscent of a petulant child’s, her response practically oozing from her lips with sharp cynicism. ”Maybe Francis is right, this is turning out to be the greatest pleasure, to make your acquaintance." She virtually hissed "So glad we're working together." At that, Jane faced her head away, sitting back down as if the matter was resolved.

“So glad somebody else agrees with me also” Francis teased lightly, perking up at the mention of his name.

Irene gave a small huff that almost sounded like a chuckle when 'Wash' called them 'Team Psi' like this was some sort of game. His not-so-inspiring inspirational speech was slightly irritating to Irene. What was the use of making light of their situation? It changed nothing. Though she wasn't totally opposed to small talk, it wasn't exactly easy for her. She would rather be silent, or at least talk about something more important. It seemed that Jane shared her feelings, and she angrily addressed them.

A moment later, Vein burst out laughing. It was a welcome distraction from the still rising tension. It seemed she always had something sarcastic to say, and it made Irene remeber something, or almost remember. It was really too fuzzy to be called a memory and more of a feeling of deja vu. She wondered what exactly it reminded her of, and was startled when Zakhar slapped his hands on the table next to her. Apparently what Jane said really irritated him. He motioned to the various cameras, scientists, and the guard that Irene had ignored. They were such a nartual part of her life that she never took notice of them anymore. They always did what seemed like the same thing and it was no use worrying about them here.

'They will kill you, hmmm?' she thought, noting the amused smile on his face. 'Tell us something we don't already know.' The tensions continued to grow, and Irene was concerned that a fight would start. It didn't help that she was right next to them either. She didn't even have anythng to defend herself with. Thankfully, Anrie's words seemed to calm Jane, and, with a few posonous words, she sat down again. Wash teased Jane and, though it seemed without any malice, Irene could only wonder how she would react. Vein then put in her opinion and Irene agreed somewhat, just not in the same words. Irene didn't feel there was much of use that she could say, so she again remained silent.

So far, this meeting was crazy. All Irene wanted was for someone to hurry up and tell them what they were supposed to do before things did blow up.

Zakhar

---

If perhaps this Jane girl was more appealing; less of an annoyance, maybe then he would convert his energy into a different form of exploitation. Perhaps the kind that often brought pink to the faces of many nurses and doctors before. Possibly then, this young woman would step down from her pedestal and take a look at this macabre world in the shoes of who she really was: a simple child in the body of a bloodthirsty killer.

His attention had been caressed back to Vein. Her boyish yet womanly charm, social charisma, and sarcastic personality had intrigued him enough to damper his irritation. For the moment, he had kept an eye on the mature shape of the woman who had taken from her seat for a short stretch. Her body was toned - almost similar to that of Irene's, but a bit more feminine. Perhaps due to the change in clothing, or simply the difference in build. Along with the other females, she was attractive... of course, she had to be. OKARI wanted the best puppets they could wrap their wickedly revolting fingers around. The newest, the shiniest, the healthiest, the cleanest, and most importantly; those who could make their place in society if the need were to be met.

Her figure had compressed back to a normal shape, and soon a cigarette was trapped in the confines of her subtle grin. Zak detested the way that the gregarious woman intimidated him without so much as a nudge. It wasn't in a physical way, but a mental discouragement that she pressed upon him with her fortified persona. She would be a difficult opponent in a verbal disagreement, a factor that he would continue to assess later on.

The elusive tapping of rubber heals meeting the tiled floor had nearly ripped Zak from his thoughts. The doctor with the clipboard had returned, and alone. His lip was curved in the same disgusted manner that was present before his exit, and with a wrinkled bony hand, he secured his glasses to his temples. Once the room had acknowledged his existence, the volume in the air quickly residing to a soft silence, he cleared his raspy, doddering throat and began.

"I hope you've become quite acquainted with your peers, as you'll be spending the majority of your time from now on training with them." As he spoke, a large black wardrobe-like case was being wheeled out into the center of the commons.

"I ask that you choose a weapon of your liking. Pick carefully. You will be using this specific device as your main hand weapon for the rest of your time at OKARI."

In other words, until we die. Zakhar scoffed at the statement, the care in him quickly subsiding once the doors of the clandestine black case had swung open, revealing a large variety of highly technical equipment.

The guns, knives, explosives, all hung from a velvet-covered wall of the case. They glistened with the shine of new metal, polished and painted in elaborate designs. Within a matter of seconds, Zak's eyes had locked onto his target. A pair of finely-sharpened daggers. Black metallic rods engulfed the handle, twisting and spinning, taking the form of two snakes, eager to sink their shiny sharp teeth into one another. The base of the daggers connected on the side to create a single weapon, resembling the shape of a bull's horns.

Without hesitation, Zakhar made his way to the case, selecting his weapon of choice. He unlatched the handles, swinging the daggers around on his fingers. He was satisfied with the feel of the polished metal as the weight of the blade twirled in circles, before the handle met his palm and the blades came to a quick halt.
A holster belt was handed to Zakhar by one of the assistants who had pushed the case in. Satisfied with his choice, Zak made his way back to the tables, shiny new toys in hand, and took a seat beside Anrie, his daggers continuously spinning on his fingers. His eyes were locked on the case, as though he were almost executing strategies to use against the other weapons. A subtle grin of amusement swept across his face, and he lowered his eyes, his red hair quickly concealing the expression behind them.

"Come now. We don't have time to waste." The doctor stated with a stern tone and a slightly uneasy twitch of his lip. "Your training begins shortly."

“No, no, it was very good. Much better than I could’ve ever said” Francis said frankly, his lips forming an appreciative smile. He’d half waved resignedly as a form of gratitude towards her. Looking back at the rest as the situation settled peacefully, Francis expressed his relief with a heavy sigh before scratching his own chin. Vein did have a way with words; no doubt enhanced by her pure unbridled pride. Though cocky, it seemed she could be surprisingly serious at a moments call. A voice of reason was the perfect thing this situation could use anyway. As he looked back at Jane though, he wondered just how far reasoning would work with her.

If there were still any lingering feelings of anger in that room, they were immediately dispelled. Something heavy was being wheeled through the corridors and Francis stood to attention as the elderly man returned. His reappearance immediately brought up questions on the Betas but those enquiries where also banished instantly. Like the omnipresent monoliths erected in deserts, the black wardrobe rose through the centre of the room. It’s sparkling and polished surfaced invited their curiosity and attention. Francis felt his own body being drawn in by the promise of destruction, even if he already knew full well what that would mean for his future.

“My dear Psis, it seems the time to enjoy menial chatter is over. I only ask that you all go easy on me since we’ve become such good friends” Francis winked in jest as the pitch black doors swung open. He exhaled a low whistle, his eyes soaking in the impressive array of weapons held within. Guns, knives, blades, explosives, everything glistened, shiny, new and untouched. Mentally, he pictured the blades already dipped in blood before blinking away the conjured image as Zahkar stepped forwards. He raised an eyebrow of curiosity towards the red man as he claimed a dagger before returning to the tables. Zahkar kept spinning the blade deftly within his palms, leading Francis to ponder if it was some ritual of his with a shrug.

Stepping towards the wardrobe swiftly, Francis maintained a cheerful grin as he bent down and claimed a pair of sub-machine pistols. The Heckler & Koch MP7. Like the other weapons, it smelt of fresh polish and metallic lubrication. Its black surface was gleaming and endless, absorbing the white light of the commons room like a void. Virgin weapons eager to be christened in battle and blood, he thought with grim amusement. He offered a word of thanks to the assistant who handed him the belt before holstering the guns, his attention shifted back to the weapon racks. "One main weapon is fine, but it can't possibly address every situation. So...since i like to be best dressed.."

Meticulously, he then began withdrawing a multitude of knives and explosives. His arms worked like well oiled machines as he brought each item up for inspection before it disappeared once more in a pouched compartment. Francis' choice of explosives was excessive to the point where he looked prepared to blow up the entire compound. He stood back up and harrumphed, apparently satisfied as he inclined his head at the doctor. His voice became ever so slightly sinister as he spoke, his arms still laden with several explosives “I hope you don't mind me taking these also. Sorry for the wait” He commented before rejoining Zahkar by the table like a kid out of a candy shop.

---

At Wash's encouragement, she found herself miming his appreciative smile with her own friendly yet somehow challenging one. "Watch out: if you keep up with this flattery, I might start to think you fancy me." she chided, lighting a match, bringing it to her cigarette, and shaking it off again. There wasn't time for more chit chat because it was in that moment that the doctor had come back. "Well, looks like he's still among the living. That's good news. Wait, is that good news?" She had a hard time differentiating between the two. The man told them that they'd be training with one another for the rest of their time. She looked about the room. Perhaps she was the only one, but she actually kind of liked the Psis so far. They hadn't proved to be dull. After all, there had already almost been a fight. She almost looked forward to it, but she knew better than to do a foolish thing like that.

It didn't take Vein long to pick a weapon. As soon as the case had swung open she knew what she would be grabbing. She already had a weapon in herself, her body serving as both its own defense and offense - but there was a specific item that she knew she could really use well to add onto her preexisting strengths. Zak was first to snatch up his tools of trade.

She eyed him with skepticism, almost daring him to pick what she wanted, but he didn't, and she felt herself calm down again. She took a look at his weapon of choice and grinned, actually. It suited him. While she was busy smirking like an idiot at Zakhar, Wash had managed to go to the case before her. “My dear Psis, it seems the time to enjoy menial chatter is over. I only ask that you all go easy on me since we’ve become such good friends” he said. She made a mental note to do just the opposite- not out of bitterness or anger, but competitiveness. Wash took his time (for-fucking-ever) with grabbing his weapons, but he, too, seemed to leave her precious treasure be. She practically purred out of satisfaction.

Then, she pounced, snatching the thing she'd been eying this whole time.

A beautiful black whip with a sharp metal tip was now clutched in her hand. With that and that alone, she pranced back over to where Anrie, Zak, and Wash all sat and wedged herself in between them. While she didn't know it, her face was almost identical to the redhead's she sat next to, and they were both probably thinking just about the same thing. Fisticuff was her language. Even when she lost, there wasn't much she enjoyed more than a good test of strength. She didn't doubt that a few of these people could probably beat the living shit out of her if she was unlucky enough- took the wrong step, lost her balance for just a second, things of that nature. Was it strange that this made her all the more excited?

For once, Vein shut the fuck up, too wrapped up in her own quiet energy to be bothered with making sarcastic comments. She simply strategized and felt her blood pump thick through her veins as she puffed-puffed-puffed at the cigarette between those lips of hers.

Anrie Ackerman

---

Anrie took an observer’s stance for the duration of the time spent chatting. Overall, Jane had calmed herself and relaxed, mimicking the appearance of casual confidence that most of them exerted. Anrie eyed her then crossed her legs over with an inner chuckle. Jane seemed like a child in wolf’s clothing.

She blinked slowly, brow raising half an inch in slight surprise. Anrie hadn’t expected any of them to really say it but Vein got straight to the point. I don't see the harm in a little mingling, myself. What's the problem with making a few pals - one, or maybe five fuck buddies? Anrie almost blushed because that would have been inappropriate. Not only that, but being naked in from of the others? That would be dangerous and embarrassing. She crossed her arms, the only indication that she was slightly uncomfortable with the notion.

“OKARI wants us to play a game and, really, that's not the worst thing they could be doing to us. If I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure each and every one of us have spent some quality time with an operating table and- " Anrie nodded lightly. The cold operating table had become her closest friend other than the warm hand of Santaio. She had been her savior in a cruel time and she hoped to repay that. "Well, I'm getting carried away again. Point is, none of us are here by choice. Obviously. But if we play our cards right, we could have a little fun before the going gets tough." Vein stated, shrugging. Anrie mimicked the motion nonchalantly.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone here understands that if we're told to, we will kill - each other if we have to. I doubt there will be many hard feelings. That's pretty much a pretense, right? Is that just me? Well, I guess there's a fair warning for you." Anrie’s eyes widened in shock before she raised a fisted hand to her lips and coughed quietly to cover up her surprise. "That's what we are. We're killers, no more, no less." She lowered the hand and glanced to look at the one-way glass. Vein was right. There was no changing that. Anrie sighed, not because she was bored, but because she knew that the future looked bleak.

Anrie flinched at a sound behind her but quickly covered it up. Just being around the others had already affected her and it was displeasing. She silently cursed and twisted to see the scientist from before. She observed the space behind him curiously wondering what had happened to the betas. Had they been sent to their death? She collected herself and stood to respect his entrance.

[i]"I hope you've become quite acquainted with your peers, as you'll be spending the majority of your time from now on training with them." As he spoke, a large black wardrobe-like case was being wheeled out into the center of the commons and excitement jittered through her body as she heard the next words."I ask that you choose a weapon of your liking. Pick carefully. You will be using this specific device as your main hand weapon for the rest of your time at OKARI."

Anrie watched, as Zakhar was the first up. His weapon of choice intrigued her, as she too desired a blade. One of key strengths, Santaio had said, was her speed and agility. Her accuracy was good but not enough for a gun. Anrie waited for the next person up and noticed that Francis had taken this chance to go. Her hands fidgeted, her gaze roaming to look over the weapon that she could see on the top of the pile. Her attention broke as Vein stood and went over. Anrie watched her rustle throught the pile but it didn’t take her long. Vein picked up a whip and Anrie felt amusement bubble in her chest. It would be so like her to pick that.

When Vein returned, Anrie stepped out claiming the chance to get her weapon. She didn’t want last of the litter and she was anxious to find her perfect match. She stopped beside the cart and perused the top of the pile before shaking her head and pushing them aside, knowing just what to search for. When she found it, a small gasp escaped her lips.

It was exactly what she wanted. The blade looked sharper than anything she had ever seen before and the handle had black fabric wrapped in patterns for a good hold. She could tie a charm to the end and the length seemed just right. It wasn’t a katana but something shorter, although it had the same make. Carved into the blade she could see the words ‘Cluizel II’. Anrie found a suitable sheath and belt to match it after some digging and put it on her waist, the weight comfortable already. However she wasn’t done. If she had the chance to get weapons now she needed all she could get out of the opportunity. She rustled through the pile and found some throwing stars and a few knives, nothing compared to Zakhar’s daggers but good enough to damage when throwing. She slipped those into the belt and murmured a appreciative, “Thank you.”, to the man. She then strode back to the table. It had only taken her a few minutes but she waited for the next person to go as she turned her mind to taking inventory. The slight tug at the corner of her lips was unusual and barely noticed, only for someone especially observant to find, but it was a smile nevertheless.

At the sound of returning footsteps, only one pair, Irene looked to the door. A moment later, the same gruff scientist entered, cleared his throat to get their attention, and spoke. Irene raised an eyebrow when he mentioned that they were going to be training together from that point on. She wasn't surprised, and merely decided that Okari would do what Okari wanted to do. She had little problem with it either. She only hoped that this training would help them to mesh better as a team, though she didn't expect much. Vein was right when she said that, ultimately, they were all just killers. That was what they were trained to do, and Irene knew that she would kill whoever she was ordered to without hesitation. There was no displeasure at the thought, it was a simple fact.

Irene quickly glanced at the group of prototypes. It seemed they had a couple hot heads, an eternal optimist, a smart mouth, and a couple quiet ones, herself included. Out of all of them, the quiet, seemingly emotionless Anrie was the one who she was the most usure of out of the group. The others already showed a bit of their personalities, some of their tempers, but Anrie had given away little.

Irene's attention reverted to the large, black case that was being wheeled into the room. It was opened to reveal a large amount of varied weapons, all seeming brand new. Irene noted the weapons carefully until her eyes stopped on one particular one. It was a sniper rifle, similar to the one she had been training with, but it definitely had a few extra features. The design was sleek, plain, but it had a certain beauty nonetheless.

She watched as Zahkar quickly made his choice, an intricately decorated double-sided dagger. It was just another clue to this man, apparently was comfortable with close combat. Next was Wash, who chose sub-machine pistols and various other weapons. He certainly took his time, and Irene was surprised at the sheer amount of weaponry the man could place on his person. As soon as Wash was out of the way, Vein fairly pounced, snatching a whip without hesitation. A look of satisfaction was apparent on her face as she sat down and puffed on her cigarette. Anrie stepped forward next, picking out a katana-like blade. Irene noticed a small vestige of happiness on her face, and was intrigued that picking out a weapon had brought a definite emotion to her face, if a slight one.

As she stepped up to the case, Irene knew a similar expression to Anrie's was now on her face. A slight raise at the corner of her mouth, a certain twinkle in her eye as she gingerly picked up the rifle. Without further ado, she slung the strap over her shoulder and began looking for other things she could use. She picked up a long, durable looking dagger and was handed a belt that went with it. There was also a small pouch on the belt that she put ammunition and several explosives inside. Confidently, she walked back to the table, putting on the belt before sitting back at the table.