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#00534 - Atlas

0 · 277 views · located in Paragon Inc Facility

a character in “Morningside Research Facility”, as played by EvoPrime


ID Number: #00534
Informal Name/s: Atlas; Spihtkir; Juggernaught
Age: 12 post-containment; prior unknown
Gender: Unconfirmed
Floor: Lower Floor - Heavy Containment Unit A1


Hair Colour: N/A
Eye Colour: Location of visual receptors unconfirmed
Body Type: Sentient humanoid exoskeleton-based extraterrestrial hybrid
Physical Mutations Evident: As far as we can tell, 534 is actually composed of two parts; the outer part is a heavily armoured exoskeleton, metallic in composition. It's shockingly similar in construction to many load-bearing robots, but for one detail: it is locked in seamless symbiosis with the second part of 534, a fleshy, weak humanoid entity. Only the original scientists who reconstructed 534 have seen it without the suit surrounding it, and they all perished in Incident 00534-01. Further data will be gathered.

-Dr. Reyes

Abilities and Mutations

Type/s: By outwards appearances, 534 is just a hulking metal beast. This all changes when you realize that it is capable of extending two weapons systems, with barrels the calibre of modern light artillery, from slots on its arms. These "cannons" have been proven to be able to fire highly concentrated explosive blasts. The method by which it creates these blasts is totally unknown, but the current theory is compression and subsequent expulsion of flammable substances present in the atmosphere and, possibly, even within its own body. The result is the ability to fire air blasts that have been confirmed to go as high as 1800 degrees Celcius at ranges of up to 50 metres. The seeming downside is that the blast becomes far less effective at range, as well as the process requring the slow refinement of the gases 534 uses in the weapons. As such, it has a potentially limitless ammunition supply, at the cost of having a limited arsenal within a short space of time.

Other members of my team suspect that 534 may have other hidden weapons systems. This is, however, still unknown.

-Dr. Reyes

Potential Utilizations for Mutation: This thing melted through a tank, butchered almost half of my security detail, and even got a Predator drone out of the sky. Its combat capabilites, especially when modified, are extraordinary. Strap a rocket launcher or two on it, you have yourself the perfect weapon... assuming it's not fighting in enclosed spaces.

-Cpt. Nakai

Flaws or Defects Evident in Subject:
The immediate flaw evident in 534 is its bulk; it's simply ineffective in enclosed spaces. Second, its (currently known) weapons rely on incendiary air blasts. Pumping inert gases into its containment cell has shown incredible results; it's simply unable to fight. Great care must be taken when performing maintenance, as pumping normal air in is required.

Additionally, it has been proven in Incidents 00534-01 and 00534-02 that the outer exoskeleton, while armoured, DOES send pain signals through to the inner biological organism. The design purpose behind this is unknown, but will be researched further. For now, it may be considered a boon to our containment efforts.

-Dr. Reyes


Psychological Profile

Personality Traits: The thing likes to kill. That much I know.

-Cpt. Nakai

As my colleague more bruntly described, 534 does appear to be somewhat violent, especially when it feels abused. However, it is also able to be calmed, and appears to understand the English language; we have considered scheduling occasional meetings with the base psychologist to try and keep 534 stable.

What has been confirmed is that 534 has emotions. It has been observed pacing around its cell, giving odd warbling noises, and other such activities that may indicate depression. On one occasion, it was observed to be "happy"; on an experiment, a cat was brought into the containment cell to test 534's reaction. While in normal circumstances it reacts with indifference to intruders, and occasionally with hostility, on this occasion 534 was heard making noises that Corporal Walker, on station in the monitoring room at the time, described as "just plain happy". 534 was observed sitting, seemingly staring at the cat, which eventually seemed to develop trust in it and sat on one of its large legs.

534 entered a hostile stage upon the attempted removal of the cat, triggering Incident 00534-02, which resulted in the loss of [REDACTED] personnel, as well as, ironically, the cat.

More data is required, but something thoroughly interesting wells beneath that metal skin.

-Dr. Reyes

Psychological Irregularities: ???


Notable Skills: Further observation necessary.

Notable Disadvantages: Fine manipulation has shown to be an issue.




Holy shit, this thing.

I am scared to death of it.

12 years ago, when I was just a little Lieutenant, I was the leader of the team tasked with retrieving it; ten men, shipped out in a helicopter to empty fucking desert smack in the middle of... China, I think it was.

We arrive, and we see a smoking wreck. That's not one of our aircraft, Technical Sergeant Brian notes. Damn fucking hell it wasn't. Helicopter lands, my team goes in. Holy shit.

It was a massive transport vessel, just crashed right in the fucking desert. Nothing we'd ever seen before. And lining the walls, attached by some clamps were... THESE things.

It all seemed dead, and Brian got to work on trying to kickstart the ship's reactor, when suddenly Specialist Walker nearly shat himself. He started yelling and pointing at one of the large things attached to the wall, and jesus christ, it was giving off soft sounds and shaking. Sounded like it was saying something, too; only word I could really make out was "Spihtkir".

It sounded like it was CRYING.

We dropped everything, used thermite to cut the clamps, and hauled the thing out. Let another team retrieve the rest.

We go home, this thing strapped in our helicopter, just listening to it cry. They take it into a lab. Say they're gonna try cutting out of the suit.

Jesus christ. They tried.

I hear explosions, fire alarm going off, fucking unholy screaming sounds. I didn't even bother grabbing a gun, I knew what that was screaming and I fucking bailed. Ran right down to vehicle hangar, scrambled a defense, and sure enough, ten fucking seconds later, the thing smashes through a bulkhead. It looked PISSED.

We opened fire on it with god knows how much ordinance. At least two Carl Gustavs, a GAU-19, and of course, that tank you hear so much about. Not to mention dozens more small-arms.

The thing went apeshit, first swatting a bunch of my men around like paper. It then charges up to the tank, sprouts what looks like fucking artillery pieces, and I'm just thrown onto the ground by an explosion.

I just lay down and played dead. It was a coward move, but it was what saved me; a few minutes later, the thing was done killing, sat down on the floor, and started making weird noises again. I finally got up, and thank fucking god it ignored me until I stumbled into a maintenace room.

I have no fucking clue how they got it recontained.

But I can say, I am scared to shit of that thing. And yet, at the same time, I can't help but feel we did something to deserve it.

-Cpt. Nakai

Actions of note within facility: Numerous hostilites against personnel; five recorded cases of attempting to breach containment, two successful. Has resulted in the death of [REDACTED] personnel.

So begins...

#00534 - Atlas's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captain Edwin Nakai Character Portrait: #00534 - Atlas
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Captain Nakai frowned as he pulled the trigger of his rifle three times, the sights already lined up to point at a snickering little teenager standing a few paces away from his vantage on the security catwalk. His expression didn't change as the rubber bullets hit home, causing the scraggly, goth-looking guy to give an animal yelp and stagger away.

"I fucking see you, eighty!" Nakai yelled at the twerp, who growled like a dog while massaging his injured left arm while skulking away.

Nakai liked some subjects, disliked others, but everyone in Security accepted that #80666 was an insufferable nuisance. Apparently it was somehow useful because it could smell like a bloodhound at the cost of acting like one... like it had done just now, trying to get intimate with a food dispenser. Not only was it horribly unhygienic, it was plainly disgusting.

Now the Captain gave a sigh and raised his rifle from where he had propped it up on the railing of the catwalk (bulletproof glass; the joys of safety!), switching the safety on as Private Kubrick chuckled on to his left.

Nakai looked around the room, his helmet concealing his face as he quietly counted how many guards were dotted around. Yep, 10 guards, one at each entrance plus seven up on the catwalks. The poor fellas down below were constantly being hounded by the rowdier subjects, but they were always safely suppressed by a couple of rubber bullets to the shoulder or leg. At least they had shields; if some of the subjects got up to the catwalks, those up there had nothing but their LTL rifles and sidearms (loaded, just for safety, with lethal ammunition) for protection against the sixty-odd monstrosities below.

The fact that there was a constant influx into the cafeteria also didn't help; slowly, one by one, new subjects poured into the room, some peaceful, others snarling at poor Williams posted at the main door. Nakai saw many faces he recognized; some he didn't. In particular, he noticed the presence of someone he recognized from the most recent Incident Report: #22475. His grip tightened slightly on his rifle; so this was the young woman who had so brutally slaughtered poor Robinson.

She didn't seem all too threatening, but then, Nakai knew far better than to not fear something that didn't look scary at first.

As if confirming this, many corridors down, a wall-shaking moan was heard softly.


Atlas stared at the two men in security garb who stood beyond the triple-reinforced observation port of its containment chamber.

It could just barely make out their words; ancient machinery within it processed and translated it.

"How the fuck does the Doctor intend to check out this thing's containment chamber?"

"I don't fucking know, but apparently she's insistent on it. I heard that Captain Nakai tried to overrule her inspection order, but then got called into her office, probably to talk to her about it. Apparently there was a lot of shouting and finally him storming out, shouting something about opening a Pandora's Box or whatever."

"Well, the thing doesn't look particularly happy right now."

It wasn't. Atlas was pacing around its cell, giving the occasional loud rumble. It hated the walls. The confinement. The isolation. There had been only a few people to talk to; all the rest were either too scared or hated it too much. It did not know why they hated.

Only that they hated, and the hate was infecting it too.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: #00534 - Atlas Character Portrait: #31235 - Meadow Character Portrait: Dr. Ainsley Graham
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A collaboration between AthaNielsen and Scarlet Loup

Two pairs of footsteps caused echoed through the hall, one much daintier than the other. The two were a pair often seen together around the facility, the subject had grown attached to Dr. Graham as soon as she met him. Of course she liked all the doctors but he was her favorite, she considered him to be a better friend than any of the other subjects. Gentle humming accompanied the footsteps, the girl sang a familiar tune from Phantom of the Opera.

The soothing sound was interrupted as Meadow spoke up, “Dr Graham?” She chirped, her voice not unlike the other half of her genes. “Are we going to go downstairs today?” She asked, clearly trying to hold back excitement. Ever since the Upper Level subjects had started to be moved she had lost more and more company, and wanted to visit the Lower Level as often as she could.

Meadow had, by that point, become almost a constant in Ainsley's life. Not that he disliked it, of course. In fact, he was quite grateful that he had the young hybrid to pass the time with. Her soft humming blended into the background as though the psychologist were carrying about an MP3 player around with him. He didn't notice she had stopped her twittering -- no pun intended -- until she spoke up gently.

It didn't take a psychology degree to tell that she was obviously anticipating a visit to the Lower Level. Either way, he did have one, and he did notice her excitement. The doctor could not help letting out a soft laugh in response. It wasn't a condescending one by any means, just a light one of amusement.

"I have to run down there to look at #00534," he replied, flipping open the file in his hand and extending it so that she could see it quickly. Ainsley snapped it shut before anything confidential could be viewed. At least he hoped he did. A light Scottish accent, which seemed to grow fainter with each passing day, graced his words, reminding those in the facility that he did not hail from America. "You really shouldn't spend too much time down there, Meadow. Bad juju and whatnot." He did not speak in a belittling manner. Rather, he tried to sound more like a concerned friend than anything. Ainsley even added a smile to emphasize his humor.

She was doing well, however. He hadn't had to worry about her behavior yet. Besides, she asked for little. "I'll take you down there today, alright? You better not go apeshit on me. I'm growing fond of your presence." He smirked as he scanned his ID, which was clipped to his labcoat, on the elevator's panel. Beneath said labcoat, he wore a red flannel shirt and some jeans, giving him the appearance of a well-shaven lumberjack.

Meadow glanced briefly at the file, only to see the image to jog her memory. No matter how much she tried she could never remember all the numbers and who they connected to. She gave a small nod of understanding at who they would be visiting.

"I'll be ok, I promise." She cooed, grinning up at him with an air of innocence. Meadow was incredibly childish, despite having the intellegence of her actual age. Despite her confidence she was still terrified of "going apeshit" like he said. None of the others had anything that would make sense for them to attack, but they still did. She tried her hardest to hide her fears from the others, but she wasn't stupid enough to not know that doctors knew.

The petite girl hurried into the elevator beside Ainsley. Her outfit constrasted his greatly, being bright and gentle. She wore a pale yellow skirt and a lime blouse, revealing several of the feather patches around her body. When they finally reached their destination and the elevator gave a satisfying "ding" Meadow's smile widened. She grabbed Ainsley's hand and scurried out the door, dragging him behind.

He took her word, as he did with most of the patients within Morningside. Not that that was a good thing to do with the amount of emotional instability about the place. Still, Ainsley knew that doing so created a nurturing environment, if such a thing could really be said about the research facility. Her innocent aura was endearing, and he couldn't help smiling back down at her. Though not necessarily immature, she was childish enough that he often forgot she was nineteen.

A brief silence ensued as the elevator zipped in a downward direction. Ainsley gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow as they rode the elevator side by side. "You're right," he said, his smile becoming one of reassurance now. "You'll be fine." Mere moments after the lift jolted into place, he found himself trailing after Meadow. His weight kept him from losing his footing and from her getting too far ahead until he could look around a bit. One never knew what venturing down here would result in.

He finally had to pull her to a stop when they were outside of the cafeteria. "I can't take you to #000534's room," he said in a soft yet definite manner. "It's too unpredicatable right now." He looked towards the cafeteria. "You could go catch up with some friends," he suggested. Looking back to her now, he smiled once more. "Try to stay away from Kovalenko, alright? She'll probably find a way to give me hell for bringing you down here."

The sudden halt made her fall back into Ainsley's chest, grinning up at him and fixing her skirt. Nodding along obediently with what he said, her enormous eyes lit up at the prospect of seeing friends. "I'll be sneaky." She reassured him, waving and rushing off towards the cafeteria.

Once more, he could not help smiling as she fixated her eyes on him. In a way, perhaps, her eyes were unnerving. As time passed, however, he seemed to find them winsome like something from a Margaret Keane painting. Ainsley gave her a moment, watched her run off towards the cafeteria, and then turned in the direction of Atlas's cell.

It wasn't hard to find, of course. Something like that needed a larger cell than most of the other prototypes did. He had not been on the staff when Atlas had gone on his rampage through the facility's hangar. Still, he had heard of the catastrophe many times before.

In a way, Ainsley was concerned for the day's session. He had never interacted with Atlas, never so much as been face to face with the being. Sure, Ainsley had watched the footage for weeks, attempting to get a read on its mentality, its intellect. Anything. At this point, there was little such analysis could do, and he knew, as well as everyone else, that nothing more could be achieved without actually confronting Atlas.

It was a wonder Ainsley didn't simply decline and push the job off on some rookie. He could have, most certainly, and he most likely would have. There was, however, that one spark in the back of his mind that propelled him forward. More so than the other clips, Ainsley had studied the instance with the cat. It was this interaction, this affection Atlas showed the cat, that convinced him that perhaps it was worth risking himself. It was all in the name of science, right?

Finally, he found himself outside of the door, clutching the file before his body. The rumbling from within the cell was already overwhelming, but at least there was no mistaking it for another cell. Ainsley must have stood nervously for a bit longer than he had thought, for a small crowd began to form behind him, watching eagerly for his next move as though this were a performance rather than a psychiatric evaluation.

Slowly, carefully, he extended a hand and knocked gently on the door as if it would make a difference. Not that Atlas could open the door, but it seemed like the right thing to do. After giving it a few seconds, whether as a kind gesture or as a chance to breathe, Ainsley identified himself on the door's lockpad and opened the door.

"Hello there," he said, forcing himself to choke it out before his initial impressions reduced him to a state of silence. A few moments passed as he looked up at Atlas from the doorway. At a snail's pace, he stepped into the room and let the door shut. "I'm Dr. Graham...would you -- erm -- do you have a talk?" In the face of danger, his usual charisma dissipated, leaving him in what felt like a far more vulnerable state than what he was already facing. He prayed it couldn't sense doubt or fear, for that would certainly make this interaction far more unpleasant.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: #00534 - Atlas Character Portrait: Dr. Ainsley Graham
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Atlas sat in his cell, leaning against the back wall of the 10x10x10 metre cube he was doomed to stay within.

And now, one of those who brought pain stood outside, staring in through the small viewing port next to the personnel airlock.

He was an odd one; he did not look like the guards who brought their objects designed to induce pain, or the white-coated men who caused much deeper, much greater pain.

This one looked worried.

And he was asking if he may enter. How odd, how odd.

The door hissed open without Atlas giving response, opened by invisible button presses within the control station, but now Atlas himself was curious. He sat up a little straighter and readjusted himself to view the man who had just entered through that small door. What lay beyond, Atlas did not know; he had been thrust in and twice escaped through the large tungsten airlock inset into one of the walls, not that small door for small people.

As the man walked inside, Atlas leaned a little closer to him, practically daring him to show his true motives, and gave a low rumble of semi-caution. He would hear this one out, but if it came to bring more pain, it would suffer it too.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: #00534 - Atlas Character Portrait: Dr. Ainsley Graham
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As Atlas leaned closer, Ainsley felt himself instinctively leaning further away. Once he realized this, however, he quickly steadied himself and brushed at his lab coat, flattening it out of habit. At least he knew the gargantuan being noticed him. On the other hand, this was hardly comforting. He tried to convince himself otherwise. Ainsley could hear a soft sound echo through the room, and he might have mistaken it for the air conditioning in the room. In a way, however, he knew it was not, for it all too eerily resembled the sound a cornered animal might make.

A few more moments of awkward silence gripped the room until Ainsley cleared his throat lightly. "Good morning," he said gently, smiling up at being. Slowly, his initial nervousness seemed to dissipate. Granted, it was obvious that he was not entirely comfortable. Perhaps an observer would notice the new, relaxed manner in which he held himself. "Now, the others all seem to call you 'Atlas'. Would it be alright for me to call you that too? The ID numbers aren't very personal, are they?"

There was a beat, and Ainsley made a bit of a face as if he were contemplating something. "Do you understand English, Atlas?" he asked softly. Certainly, this whole session would be rather difficult if there were a language barrier between subject and scientist. "Can you speak or write it?"