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Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack

"Student workers always getting under my feet. Bahhh."

0 · 395 views · located in Subject 11

a character in “Subject 11”, as played by SyringeofHell

Description

Human Character sheet

http://i606.photobucket.com/albums/tt145/bio-mechanic/255c2c4d.jpg
(My fattyfatfat ex-self insert. Lol, he's actually pretty strong. Wearing a vest top because I wanted to show his arm mechanics. Most lazily inked thing ever. He's saying "I am where all the pies go".)
Name: Dr. Rainer Lack
Nickname: Prefers to be called Lack.
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Job: Scientist
Skills: SCIENCE!!!11one, shooting, mechanics, language
Weapons: 9mm pistol, knife. Assault rifle stolen from an intruder.
Weakness: Short, kind of pudgy around the middle, one side reinforced by mechanics, half-deaf in his left ear.

Other:
- hair: Light brown, short.
- eyes: His eye is grey-blue, the left one being biomechanical, and he wears glasses.
- skin: Relatively pale.
- clothing: Often what is practical over what is 'sciencey'. Often found wearing the clothes more likely to be found on a field agent (heavy knit sweaters, combats, boots, vest tops, cargo shorts, etc) than a head of department in a lab. Although he apparently does enjoy donning a lab coat and goggles from time to time.
- other: He's short (5'6") and stocky. Although he's a tad pudgy around the middle, the rest of him is built pretty powerfully and... square-ly. Lack often forgets to shave and is sometimes quite stubbly. He has some really nasty scars on his left cheek, possibly from a fight with... something. His left arm and leg are also biomechanical, and his entire left side is reinforced by mechanics.

Personality

Personality:Lack is unusually jovial and good natured for someone in such a serious position. He can come over as gruff and serious at first, as he is often found frowning, taking notes, walking around very quickly and otherwise looking uncaring. He's kind and very generous, expecting nothing back but "thank you" and sometimes not even that. He's involved himself with several charities. He is, however, blunt and can come over as rude a lot of the time. He doesn't even realise he's doing it. He tends to ask too many questions, or too few, and is prone to threatening people with guards/himself if they don't co-operate on the simplest of things. He tends to act about things in a lighthearted manner. His slightly jokey comments about serious stuff drives most folk nuts.

- aspirations: To learn all he can, to help forward mankind, to learn to subside on things that aren't coffee or stodgy foods.
- flaws: Bad tempered, blunt, socially inept in a strange way, rushes everything apart from his work.
- strengths: Tenacious, patient, accomodating, generous.

Likes: Lack enjoys meeting new people. Although he is a bit nervy and often accidentally rude, he genuinely enjoys meeting people and making new friends. He also enjoys learning new things, such as techniques, languages, etc. He loves reading, and tends to carry a book with him in his bag. He enjoys shooting, both as a hobby and self defence. He isn't the type to hunt, so he just does target shooting, and will often carry around a pistol in a shoulder holster (legal in his time). Most of all, he loves his job and is devoted to it.

Dislikes: Lack doesn't like cruelty. Although parts of his work involve experimenting on people, he doesn't like it and tries to be good to the test subjects. He also doesn't take things lightly - if people are rude to him, even as a joke, he will nearly always take it to heart and probably remember it for years and years. He doesn't like being shown up by others, and certainly dislikes show offs. Most of all, he detests willful ignorance.

Fears: Abandonment, being hated, falling in the scientific community.

Equipment

Handgun in shoulder holster and ammo
Combat knife
Clipboard
Several pens
Calculator
Swiss Army knife
Money
Notes on said clipboard
Goggles/safety glasses normally tucked into a pocket

Other:
Scientific equipment
Apartment
Books on biomechanics
Specimens
ONE suit
Various respirators

History

Background story: Lack was born to parents in an old bunker, and raised in a life that was kind of comfortable. He paid little attention to much but books, until his father took him to work with him when school was cancelled for a day. He quickly learnt the delights of mechanics, and asked for a crystal radio set. His parents were more than keen to encourage him, and taught the boy all the knew. He spent saturday afternoons with his next door neighbour, a mechanic, and the rest of the week with his books and electronics. However, fixing wasn't enough. Lack wanted to create.

He started to study mechanics and biology under the tutelage of someone when he was old enough, and finally went to university to study them, emerging with a doctorate in both when he became much older.

He spent long hours working, and it paid off - he became a proper research scientist, and had a paper published. However, things came to a standstill when he was 25. A mutant attacked his university, causing chaos. Lack threw himself into the fight, and was horrifically maimed. Luckily, his body was repaired using his very own research.

It took him a while to get back on his feet, but Lack eventually moved to government labs - although he still works for the university, when he can - and ended up being promoted to work for MUH. The paperwork is dull, and so Lack often puts himself in the middle of the action, and enjoys helping and supervising students. He likes meeting the mutants, but is understandably cautious.

So begins...

Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack's Story

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Dr. Rainer Lack adjusted the heavy courier bag on one of his broad shoulders. The short man didn't look much of a scientist in his t-shirt, big old parka, combats and boots. He assumed, however, that they wouldn't mind. He had never understood the idea of wearing his best suit to work; the slightest thing could ruin it, and that was a damn large amount of cash down the drain. His gait was a little strange thanks to his mainly mechanical left hand side, and he wore a scowl - focused, maybe a little mean. He pursed his lips a little as he entered the building, mentally cursing his bag strap's digging in.

So. Mutants. He'd worked with some before. Clenching his jaw a little, he subconsciously went to touch where metal had been grafted onto his arm. Of course, it was helpful having a powerful mechanical arm, but the oiling and cleaning was a pain in the ass. Not to mention he didn't get many women with a mangled body like that. Screw 'em, work was always more important. He didn't have anything against mutants, per say, but if any of them went for him he wouldn't lay off putting a bullet between their eyes. The weight of his pistol in its shoulder holster was reassuring as he strode inside, looking for someone to report to. He had his ID on a lanyard around his neck, but consciously felt more than a little scruffy. Rolling his one natural eye, he pushed that thought aside.

Come on, Lack. You're 37, a big boy now. They aren't going to damn kill you, it's just a job.
A very prestigious job, he corrected himself quickly.

Seeing the staff area, he headed inside, looking around for another scientist or researcher he could introduce himself to. That way he could get shown around, meet the subjects here, and get on with his work. There were likely more things to be found out about biomechanics through the study of mutants. Maybe if there were injured ones he could fix them up? His scowl softened into a smile. That way they'd both benefit.

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The sudden alarm made Lack jump a little, and as he peered out the little window of the door, he saw people who were definitely not meant to be there. Definitely not. Probably not a good time for him to look like some scruffy terrorist, either. At least he'd shaved before coming to work today. He bit back a nervous laugh and pulled his coat off to draw his gun. He had fired at real people before, and that gave him a decent amoubt of combat experience. He'd had nightmares after he first killed - the training he'd had was not like the type a soldier would recieve - but after a few more kills he'd almost become numb to it. It still made him shudder a little, thinking that.

The Beretta 92 fitted comfortably in his hand as he loaded it. He did have a few hollowpoint bullets in his bag, but decided not to waste them. He had steady hands, was a good shot, and with any luck could hit someone in the head. Lack glanced to see a woman who looked like a scientist firing at the intruders and relaxed a little. He wasn't alone in this. And there were guards as well. He slid against the wall and aimed out the half-open door at one of the human invaders. He carefully aimed, but was sure not to take too long. Gritting his teeth, he fired. The gunshot seemed to be 10x louder than it was when he was simply practising at the range and he smiled grimly. The guy he'd killed had an assault rifle - if only he could get over there and snatch it up.

His stomach writhed inside him. What if he got torn up like before? What if he was doing more harm than good? No time to think of that. Just shoot the bastards, he thought, interrupting the stream of worries flowing through his head.

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Wood splintered where a bullet slammed into the heavy fire door Lack was using as his cover. His heart leapt, but he didn't let it distract him. The man tackled things with a bloody-minded tenacity very often, whether it was conflict or research or simply trying something new. His teeth were clenched as he quickly aimed from target to target. All humans; there was no chance of him doing much damage to a damn mutant. He was lucky none of them had fried his brain yet. Or screwed with his eye - the natural one was useless compared to the mechanical replacement of his left eye.

And it seemed as if back up had arrived. At last. Lack tried his best not to cause them trouble. He was rapidly running out of ammunition. Drawing his knife from his boot, he noticed a woman who had fallen near him, having taken a bullet to the leg and one to the ribs. She wasn't dead yet, panting heavily and clinging to her rifle still, blood trickling from her nose and between her paling lips. He quickly grabbed her and without a second thought, plunged his knife into her throat, slitting her jugular. It was done with near surgical precision. The man did know a hell of a lot about human anatomy after all. With some difficulty he unhooked the gun from her grasp and checked her bloodied corpse for ammunition. He'd never used a rifle like this in combat, but had used one in practise before, and knew the general theory.

He looked over to the female doctor, anxious about her. He wasn't used to people who looked so um, sciency, fighting. His attention was quickly drawn from her to an absolute giant of a man ripping through the invaders. Lack was short and so most people seemed tall to him, but this guy was massive. For a second, he forgot he was in the middle of a dangerous combat situation until he felt the slickness of blood on his hands and the assault rifle he was holding. He pulled the trigger, nearly not ready for the recoil of the automatic weapon. He took a second to remember how to use it correctly and fired again at a particularly active human fighter. In return, buckshot whined past him and he drew in a sharp breath as one of the pellets caught his ruined left ear.

Not like it was doing you any good anyway, he thought as he retaliated, firing at the man with the shotgun before darting back to quickly reload.

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Whilst Lack was reloading his assault rifle, he noticed an unnerving silence had settled over the fighters. Crouching down with gun in arms, he sneaked forwards to the door - the soft whirring of his arm and leg seemed pretty loud in the current atmosphere, although he heard voices now. They were muffled in his torn and bleeding left ear, and so he turned his head a little to catch them. Two men, and by looks, one of them was the leader of the rebel organisation.

And he comes with an axe, Lack said internally, snorting.

Had the man been a human, he'd have definitely aimed and pulled the trigger, but realising he was a mutant, he waited for someone else to deal with him. And yet no-one did. Frowning, Lack rearranged himself to stay hidden but ready to fire. And so this man had an entire army? Arching an eyebrow, the scientist suspected bluffing. He was a wary man at heart, and not prone to just believing someone with brilliant stage presence, as it were. Although this Gallius Mob was very charismatic, drawing the attention of all the guards and the female scientist. An even thicker silence caught his attention and he spotted a little girl walking towards the door. And no-one was dragging her out of the fight? Worried for the child, Lack was about to jump up and find somewhere safe for her, but then he saw the looks of absolute terror on the faces of the guards. He held back.

It was evident the girl was a mutant, and a powerful one at that. He watched, left eye zooming in on her. Well, she looked relatively normal... what could she do? Now she and the Mob man were disagreeing, and he shoved her. He watched with fascinated disgust as the man's heart was crushed; he felt rather detatched from the suitation, thinking about it.

Well, that's that over and done with.

Despite being new here, Lack couldn't help but feel angry. He'd just come to work here, it was his first day, and already there was some great calamity and an experiment was trying to get out. Lack was unimpressed, severely unimpressed. If he ended up getting mauled again because of another incident like this, he would not be pleased, not in the slightest. At least where he used to work there were no break outs (or indeed break ins). He gripped his rifle and glowered, although he wasn't sure at what.

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Okay, now some other (presumably mutant) girl had come in and was talking nonsense. Oh, Lack would be having words with the head of this place, yes he would. Quite suddenly, he felt a wave of peacefulness wash over him and he lowered his weapon. Not for long, though; he'd had training to realise when his emotions were being screwed with. Sometimes it was easy to notice - like now. It was a bit like being smacked over the head by an iron bar with "CALM DOWN" stamped on it. Other times it was subtle and insidious, and he didn't have the skills necessary to recognise that. But when he was angry one minute and calm the next? And when everyone in the room seemed to relax a little? Yeah, that was a sure sign. In his last workplace, rooms had been lined with a thin layer of an alloy that would apparently stop mutants messing with heads. He wondered if they had that in this place. He wasn't sure of what the alloy was made of now, although he was sure there was lead in there somewhere... if he could figure out the properties of it and ask around, he'd make some.

His attention was drawn once again to the girl in the uniform, and even more guards swamping the room. She was boasting now, and if there was one thing the scientist hated, it was braggarts. Despite feeling afraid of her - she had pulled that man's heart out, after all - he also felt irate. Oh yes, there'd be words. The whole situation was so damn unprofessional. He hadn't come here in an exactly good mood, but this was making him angry rather than nervous. How the hell had the two mutant girls even escaped their rooms? He'd come here to work on mechanics, but pretty soon he'd have to be a maintenance man, making stronger doors with more powerful locks, he thought.

Although normally cordial, Lack was running this all throuh his head, already imagining being asked "Oh, Lack, if you could take a minute to line the walls with that alloy, we'd all be very grateful". Of course, that was unlikely, but the way he saw it was he was new here, thrown into chaos, and he'd have to fix it all up. It was somewhat a self fulfilling prophecy as the grouchy scientist would doubtless end up working on new doors and better gun turrets without being asked. Although he would insist he had been, obviously.

He watched the girl attack and destroy the squad of soldiers which had just entered, and anger burnt brighter inside him. No-one was doing anything! If he had an anti-mutation gun, he'd have shot the girl down in minutes. He had no idea who she was or why the guards were looking so terrified. They were letting their comrades die! Words and a strongly written letter to the head of this institution, yes.

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There was more nonsense now as the other girl spoke further. Lack had no idea what she was on about, or why she called that schoolgirl one 'Lion', but he was sure he'd had enough. His leg was hurting from being crouched down, his ear was still bleeding all over his parka. Everything sounded distant and oceanic through that ear, like everyone was speaking underwater. It looked like he'd have to make himself a new one at this rate. Not to mention he was pretty damn sure he'd get killed if he lurked around here longer. And now they were calling the workers at this place worthless. Nice. Very nice.

Lack rolled his eye and slowly got up, edging out of the room like a child leaving school assembly early for whatever reason. He realised he stuck out like anything - his clothes didn't state scientist or rebel, and the mechanics of his left side glinted under the ceiling lights. He winced as his courier bag bumped against the wall. His stomach was in knots as he imagined all eyes on him, those two girls probably thinking of a fun way to rip him apart. Don't mind me, just escaping this crazy little sideshow to find someone normal and sensible... He still clung to the assault rifle despite knowing it'd do nothing to ward off any mutants which decided to go for him. In his mind's eye, he saw a glorious death, overdramatic as he lay dying on the floor, those around him sobbing and gasping in horror as he uttered some poignant last words. The silliness of the mental image caused him to snort with laughter, which he disguised as a cough, although he wasn't quite sure why.

Slipping around the corner in a panic, he hopped into the elevator, scanned his brand new ID (with an awkwardly grinning photo of himself on the front) and frantically pressed a button, any button, to get away from this bullshit.

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Noticing the huge man following him, Lack paled and shuddered, leaning against the elevator wall and gripping his stolen gun with the tenacity of a man who knows he's about to be killed and wants to do something about it, but is unable. Yeah, that was it. This would be the end of poor Dr. R. T. Lack, fated from birth to have a funny name that got him teased in school, he who had been chewed on and spat out by a mutant... He stopped his soliloquy whilst he was ahead, instead cursing himself for having to dress scruffily and for coming to work in this damned hellhole where no-one seemed to keep any of the test subjects under control. If he'd stayed at his old workplace as head researcher, he could have lived his life out in relative happiness, tinkering with biomechanics. Of course, there'd be none of the research he could carry out here.

He wondered if the man following him had any mechanics fitted that he himself had developed. That'd be ironic, wouldn't it? Death at the hands of something you dreamt up. Subconsciously, his hands moved from clinging to his gun, to clinging to his ID card. He could show the guy that, couldn't he? They could find a computer and look him up on the database of staff. They should have put him there by now, seeing as his card worked on the lift. Suddenly things didn't seem as final. Still terrifying, but not as final.

Still tense, Lack touched his bleeding ear - although it had mainly crusted over by now. Poor ear. It would have to be replaced, which meant working on something custom later, if he lived past this reckoning with that massive guard. He took a deep breath in as the lift arrived at floor six and he shakily stepped out, ready to thrust the ID card at the man and tell him what a loss it'd be to the scientific community if he was killed.

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Reaching the sixth floor of MUH's building seemed to take a lot longer than he had predicted. Trotting forwards, he could handle. Trotting up the stairs? Not in a thousand years. His boots had stamped against a step and made him nearly trip more than once, and as much as he wanted to get to his destination soon, he wasn't about to go through the humiliation of falling just because he climbing up just a bunch of stairs proved more of a challenge to him than any other daily task.

Thinking about it, why would the man go to the sixth floor in the first place? It made him even more suspicious to be directing straight for the gathering room, where the mutants were. A very detailed explanation was definitely needed, what with the revolt going on downstairs along with a guard genocide, he couldn't afford to trust anyone even remotely foreign-looking. Stealing the ID of a dead guard was more than likely, so his presence in the elevator wasn't all too reassuring.

The yells from the Main Hall still managed to very softly penetrate through the metallic door of the emergency stairs, accompanying his blaring steps' subtle echoes on the wide, white staircase. The cyborg looked over the rails to the levels below, but he merely snorted and continue his path; misting the inside of his gas-mask just lightly.

As he slowly approached the appointed floor, Lazarus reached for his stun gun, which was awkwardly unfitting for his hand's fingers. If all went well, we wouldn't even use it. If not, it'd serve as a throwing object at most; far too heavy to dash after him right away. The sixth floor was probably crawling with other guards anyhow, and they'd possibly shoot him or subdue him faster than he could even attempt to.
Pushing the door open, he kept the gun low as he entered the floor and looked around briefly to look for the scruffy brunette. When he did, however, Lazarus immediately pointed the gun at the man and articulated a loud 'Halt', eyes stayed fixed and unblinking at the short male, pose stern and adamant as he approached with cautiously. He did have a rifle with him after all, and even if his thick armor was hard and sturdy enough to hold some bullets back, he couldn't speak for the exposed cables and circuits.

"Identify yourself." The man-machine's voice sounded definitely artificial, but contrary to most robots or computers, it was not monotonic or sounded like bundles of pre-recorded words that interrupted themselves prematurely. Although natural in terms of modulation, it had been made exaggeratedly low and hoarse, and whenever he spoke there was a soft rasping that accompanied his words. Still, it was understandable and definitely audible, but if the stranger didn't exactly hear, he would be more than glad to repeat himself even louder.

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The little scientist was trembling visibly - he'd had quite a few near brushes with death, but never at the hands of a huge, armed, man-machine. The pistol he routinely carried and his new-found rifle weren't helping any, he realised, and gave a little high-pitched noise. Lack had no need to halt - he'd stopped outside the lift, waiting for the guard to get there rather than making himself more suspicious. He fumbled with the ID card, hoping it wouldn't be assumed he was fiddling with a weapon. His bloodstained knife was strapped to his boot, well out of the way, at least. With a shaky hand, he offered the big man his ID card.

"D-Dr. R. T. Lack. I'm new here. I uh, I uh... I wasn't expecting all that shit to be happening when I came here! I just want to do my job! Please don't kill me, it'd be a, um... a g-great loss to the scientific community as a whole, as I am o-one of the, ah, lead dev... developers of biomechanics. In the world," he said, his fake left eye looking left and right and up and down, nervily summing up the siutation.

He twiddled his thumbs anxiously, looking up at the guard and trying to summon the same awful grin as the one on his ID to prove it was him. He admittedly had to hold back an anxious giggle when he thought, At least he doesn't sound like Microsoft Sam. Another throught crossed his mind after, telling him to shut the hell up.

"Look, I think, uhh... you can find me in the database! I'm one of you guys, I work for MUH! Y-you saw me shoo-shooting all those intruders, right?"

Oh shit oh shit oh shit I'm going to die.

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"Negative." The man replied, metal finger twitching on the gun's trigger.
Slanting his head, Lazarus stretched his left arm to take the ID card from the man as he kept babbling on, keeping the stun gun high as he lowered his eyes to look at it. His right blue colored implant hummed softly while it scanned the card, as his opposite grey eye's sight had been greatly affected since his small explosion incident, despite the surgeries it had gone through.
Yes, the ID belonged to 'Dr. R. T. Lack', but Lazarus had been taught to be highly distrustful and it was obvious that the man could be just holding up an act. Although it wasn't unheard of that new arrivals didn't receive any security clearance to few areas such as the gather place until days later; one of the many 'security measures' which just several minutes ago had been deemed useless by a bunch of rogues.

The cyborg flipped the card over a few times, eying the dark-haired man every now and then warily, arching an eyebrow at the awkward grin the brunette was giving him. He definitely was an odd man, but Lazarus could afford to play along and observe this 'Dr. Lack' from a close range to ease that slight paranoia he had grown to have in regard of the new staff members and mutants.
Lazarus gave an inaudible sigh, unnoticeable shouldn't it be for occasional blurring of the aqua polycarbonate plastic on the mask. Then, the Elite sharply handed the ID back and lowered the gun, yet his expression remained serious. But that was probably just his face.

"Very well, Dr. Lack," He huffed, putting the feeble weapon away. "If it could be possible to check the database at the moment, I would. But as you very well saw, the staff is occupied dealing with the rebels... and other nuisances." The last, Lazarus nearly spat out, furrowing the bridge of his hunched nose. The large man straightened himself, staring at the scientist in silence for a just a few seconds before speaking up again. "You shouldn't be wondering around unguarded, doctor, if you would be such a great loss to this scientific community of yours. Security is failing all over this place, and mutants wouldn't hesitate in terminating you should they get the chance."

His gaze looked over Lack, towards the doors leading to the scanners and to the mutant gathering place. It wasn't bitterness or resent what dominated Lazarus' features. It was simply caution. He didn't trust the mutants; he had no reason to. They killed his comrades, and most of them usually continued to threaten the guards whenever they got the chance to. He, of course, was no exception to this. But it didn't irk him as much as it used to. He had grown used to their spite and unreasonableness, but this person? Who knows how susceptible he'd be to believe their threats, although surely he'd been warned before? It was a constant issue in this place for all the staff that directly treated with them.

"I could render you assistance, if you wish. It is after all, part of my duties."

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Warily, Lack took the card back like it'd explode. Oh great, now he was mentally 'translating' everything the guard said into Microsoft Sam-ese and a nervous laugh escaped his lips. Traitors, can't you stay shut for once? He flinched and watched him, expecting to be zapped any second. But then he put the stun gun away, and that gave Lack a little bit of peace, but those claws looked awfully sharp...

"W-well, I wasn't exactly expecting crazed gunmen and all that to go charging their way into the building. Uh. I was waiting to meet a fellow member of staff, not buckshot to my, um, ear. And, y-you know, in those kind of situations where two overpowered little girls start going, uh, apeshit, it's probably b-best to leave. Which is why I'm here. Do you know where I could meet another, uh, scientist?"

He paused, thinking a little.

"Although my ear was already kind of bad, so maybe this is a good thing. Th-then again, who wants to bet I'll be the one who has to, um, fit the new one all wonky in the bathroom mirror?"

The joke fell flat even for a Lack-standard joke. He stood in awkward silence, ducking his head down into his coat collar in a feeble attempt to escape all these going on around him. The guard scared him shitless, and besides, he wasn't sure how to deal with a man like that. At best, Lack was nervous around new people anyway, but this guy terrified him. He was so tall, for one. Lack cursed his curse of being a shortarse and considered the situation downstairs.

"You guys have snipers in hidden places down there? 'Cause those little girls are sure wreaking havoc. And letting slip the dogs of war. Well, actually, that's cry havoc, but it wouldn't make sense if I had said that and I'll shut up now," he mumbled.

The scientist looked very sheepish and somewhat earnest, wringing his wrists and looking up at Lazarus. He glanced over to the gathering area, vaguely remembering it from when he had his interview a few months back. Great, more places where he could be possibly used as a mutant's chew toy. He wondered if the guard would object to him writing a strongly worded letter right there. Understandably, poor Lack didn't feel his best at all, anxiety churning his stomach and feeling incredibly unsure of all this funny business going on downstairs. And now up here. He looked the place over, and saw an older girl hugging a younger one. Although he didn't know, they were Subjects 89 and 84. He offered a little wave and smile. He was a generally nice man, and didn't want the people he was working with to see him as a monster.

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A frown crossed the large man's features at the scientist's small nervous laugh, struggling to find anything even remotely funny in the corporation's current situation, or in what he had just said.
Effectively, Lazarus did but stare at him. Dr. Lack seemed - twitchy, talkative. And with a remarkably more florid language than the rest of the scientists used, but he made no comment on the matter as he didn't precisely mind it. With his current appearance and clothes, it was a wonder neither of the other guards had tried to shoot him back on the Main Halls. He didn't exactly look like one of MUH's scientists at first glance, nor a second or third. Changing his clothes was probably advisable, but it was none of his business. Let the man dress however he likes while he can; his superiors would be the ones to have the final word at any rate. He had to agree with some of the things the man mumbled, however. He'd doubt that anyone would expect insane gunmen to burst inside a supposed high-security building, though, but he couldn't express how much he concurred with his point about the girl mutants.
Scientists had been naive enough to overpower them without actually implementing any obedience chips or basically making them mindless. Sounded like a flawless plan.

"I doubt they'll attempt to dispatch any snipers, doctor. As to why, I cannot say. But I suspect a lack of preparation." He said flatly, arms lifting to merely rest one on top of the other, as crossing them was quite uncomfortable with that claw of his, bloodied from the battles earlier. It could be highly inconvenient sometimes, and he oftenly found himself wishing they could be somehow retractable.
"As to finding another scientist, they often mingle in the labs on the second floor and sometimes come to the gather room. But I wouldn't be surprised if they holed themselves up until this mess is over and done for, and I doubt that will be any time soon."

Lazarus's eyebrows lifted at the man's friendly wave towards the subjects, finding it a very rare sort of behavior in the scientific teams he had once or twice escorted inside. It kicked his brain back into remembering that Lack wasn't precisely on his trusting side as of yet, but the way the doctor spoke and acted was genuinely distracting. It was hard to focus on how he absolutely needed to be paranoid about every word, gesture and action Lack did when he was too preoccupied comparing him to the rest of the scientists in a non-critical way.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek
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The staring made Lack feel even more awkward. Fiddling with his fingers, he ducked his head and stared at his heavy boots. He'd always dressed that way. Well, apart from when he first started being a scientist and kept getting oil all over his nice clean shirts. Maybe he'd try to change the combats to something less hostile... jeans always worked. His beloved boots, however, would stay no matter what. The toes had steel caps. Good if he dropped something on his foot or really wanted to kick someone hard. Whilst part of his mind was being lax and thinking over the various things that had got him into the rather scary situation with the guard, another part was thinking over how he'd make his new ear, and more importantly, who'd be the one to fit it. The bathroom mirror thing was a joke, of course - the operation was not something he could be conscious for.

"Say, how old are those two mutants? The girls? No wonder they are off the rails if they're so young. The mind of a child going through puberty is effectively 'pruned' until they reach their late teens. Messing around with the heads of teenagers - all ethical arguments aside - is likely a bad idea, because of the process their brains go through during that time. And those brains belonging to, uh, mutants makes the situation fucked up beyond all recognition. Yeah, imagine, 'I hate you, mom, I wish you'd all just die!' from the mouth of a regular kid. Funny. From the mouth of one who can eviscerate you? Slightly less so."

He seemed a little calmer now when he was talking science rather than explaining why he should live. Funny, that. He shook his head, now making a list of what he could put in his letter to the head of this operation. Sheer incompetance seemed to be the dish of the day, and Lack wasn't happy. He was also pretty sure the guard was still suspicious about him. Hell, he would be suspicious of himself! He thought he'd better explain his clothes and pistol.

"You know, I'm a bit eccentric. They give you lessons on being an eccentric at university now, as soon as you go to study any discipline of science. You have to learn to cackle maniacally and yell, 'It lives! IT LIVES!' before they let you anywhere near test tubes and all that," he said, pokerfaced. Then, realising his little joke could get him even deeper, he cringed. "I joke. You're probably wondering why I'm dressed like I came off the street, right? You try getting oil stains out of nice white shirts. And blood. It's much cheaper just to wear more relaxed clothes. Also, when I was younger, a mutant broke into the labs I was working in, and there weren't many guards there. Being a fairly decent gunman, I snatched up the pistol of a fallen guard, but ended up used as the thing's personal chewtoy. After that, you tend to want to dress in sensible clothes and carry weapons. It's also why I'm... ahhh... on edge about a sudden fucking break in on the first day of my new job. Do they happen often?"

The explanation was all true, and he hoped that the guard believed him. He didn't seem so happy about the situation either, and that comforted the scientist. Evidently he didn't need to be listed in a strongly worded letter to the boss.

"So, what's your name? My 'R' stands for Rainer, but it's a stupid name. I've got a kid brother and sister, adopted. They call me Rainy because I always look grouchy, apparently. And ask me if I've done operations on the weather, and it's stupid and annoying and everyone picked on me because of it when I was a wee little thing. I generally go by Lack."

He was definitely more at ease now the gun was away and that the huge man had called him 'doctor' and answered his question without any discernible note of hostility. Still, Lack never seemed to shut up. Maybe he was just nervous underneath his somewhat collected, jokey demeanour. He wondered if he should start writing his letter down now, or maybe he could find another scientist as a witness to this inadequate protection of the place. He doubted it was the fault of the guards. There was, after all, a mutant gathering area, which smelt of danger to come. He really needed to get his hands on one of those anti-mutation guns. His mind suddenly sprang back to remember the angry young female doctor in the fight. He sincerely hoped she was okay. She didn't exactly look like she had much combat experience, and was right in the middle if the action rather than in a defensive position.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek
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"According to the records, subject 84 would be eighteen, and 89 twelve. Most, if not all of the mutants in this facility are adolescents or prepubescent children. I have yet to meet a mature subject."
Lazarus' locked his eye on the girls inside the gather room as he spoke, later looking at each of the young mutants while he listened to Lack talk.
His logic on teenage mutants was admittedly funny, but instead of laughing Lazarus issued a noise that sounded like a brief cough or choke.
He turned to look at the scientist when he began explaining his outfit and the reason for the biomechanic arm and eye he had; nothing less than an accident with a mutant. In a regular conversation, perhaps he would've made a cheap, lame comment like 'How unfortunate' or something spilling fake sympathy. But he said nothing. As a matter of fact, the sympathy was true and authenticate. He hadn't been mauled by a mutant, but he had been mauled by an explosive, and quite severely. For a fraction of a second, Lazarus could've sworn to suddenly feel every cable, circuit and titanium plate covering his incomplete body, but with a shake of his head and a small frown, he pushed it aside feeling weak and pathetic.

The abrupt movements of the several guards ahead startled him, and the cyborg watched as they subdued the previously mentioned female subject for what apparently had been a fight with another boy. He had been deaf to the girl's demands for information and would've been frankly surprised should the fights weren't basically daily.
The Elite slanted his head in the doctor's direction, still keeping his eyes on the mutant the other security members were dragging away.
"Lazarus. A pleasure, doctor Lack." He replied, looking briefly at Lack before returning his attention to the guards, already leaving through the elevator.

He couldn't help but give a low snort at the hostile behavior that generally flooded the labs at this point. He was also pretty sure to have heard gunshots, but he swept away the thought with the conclusion that it probably came from the many struggles at the entrance. He did want to help, and he had to some point. Combat was something he longed for, usually. But Lazarus felt uncertain about rushing back to the struggle. Not while the doctor still lingered about and nearly all of the security staff was already downstairs, fighting or dead. Luckily, he was prepared for whatever was to come thanks to the alarm. Should there be an emergency, he had replaced his plasma-based charges with Anti-Mutation ones, and he had yet to use any. It was evident by his blood stained appearance that his attacks had been physical. But he'd rushed against the human foes, and this floor was filled with hostile mutants. He was thankful that he hadn't used any of the charges as of yet, and sincerely hoped he wouldn't have any need for them that day.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek Character Portrait: Subject 89
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"All kids, huh? You don't get good readings from one age range alone," he grumbled.

He wasn't too fond of hurting people, but wasn't exactly against it where the pursuits of science were concerned. Hypocritical, maybe, but one couldn't hold interests in human and mutant rights as well as being in a job which naturally included experimentation on people at the same time very easily. And so Lack had to juggle his priorities around wonkily, donating to charity but carrying on with his work which often injured or killed people. It didn't make him feel very good, and when he'd started experimenting on people, he couldn't stand himself. Every night after work he'd felt sick he could do that to people, and used to drink himself to oblivion, until he'd found a doctor to help him with the brief episode of depression. And so he'd done the obvious when he began to recover; strived to improve conditions for the test subjects. It wasn't the same as freedom, but as head researcher in the last place, he'd put in place a series of rules for the other scientists to follow and made sure to communicate with the subjects above all else.

"Nice to meet you, Lazarus," he said with a grin.

The man's grin was awful. It was perpetually awkward and somehow salacious at the same time, even with no intent at all to look lustful. It was the type that got him odd looks from everyone, and the occasional slap. It might have been something to do with the way the scarred left cheek tugged at his mouth. However, it was certain that it was dreadful. He'd really be better off with a little smile.

"You know, if you ever want anything fixed up, changed or added in regards to your mechanics, I'm your man."

He seemed pretty proud about that. And he was! Lack had worked hard for years and years to be so good at his job, and he loved to practise and help and develop ideas. He didn't feel so terrified of this guard any more; it was nice to get to meet the staff he'd be with for (presumably) years to come. At least he wasn't yammering on about nothing now.

Loud noises, gunfire and shouting in some odd tongue caught Lack's attention. Guards were being massacred again, but much closer to him this time, and by the girl he'd waved to. He grabbed his assault rifle and staggered back a little, tense. Lack liked language. He wasn't fluent in anything, but knew bits and bobs of different things. Nothing like whatever the girl was yelling in, however. The tone was demanding, obviously, and before shooting or running off, he decided the best plan would be to calm her down, if indeed he could. After all, he wasn't dead yet.

"He-hey, honey, you want s-something?" he stammered, keeping his voice gentle.

He cursed himself for ignoring the situation. If he'd been watching, he might have known what set her off. He was all ready to try and pump her body full of lead, though, even though his bullets were the regular, human type and wouldn't hurt anyone. He glanced up at Lazarus, wandering what he'd do.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek Character Portrait: Subject 89
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The tall guard gave the scientist a very small smile. Not that he could see it with that respirator on his face, but the intention was there. He would've perhaps attempted a 'joke' of his own, but the new disturbances made him jerk his head around merely to see the OTHER girl in question attack the other guards.
With slow movements, the cyborg's left forearm's plates began to shift and turn with quiet whirrs and drones. The fingers and hands seemed to be retracting inside the mechanics, and it gave way to a medium-sized opening that gave a faint pale blue glow.

When the young mutant aggressive and crazed-looking jumped towards them, Lazarus' opposite arm pushed the brunnette doctor back, and his other arm lifted to aim straight at the girl's head, a deep scowl burrying itself between the man's eyebrows.
He did not fire, however, and even snarled at the other guards to stop in their tracks.
Whoever taught them that overwhelming a mutant was smart needed to be severely punched in the face. So many lives could be spared if they only reasoned before they attacked, and as long as he was present, they would do no such thing. There was a scientist's life at stake as well, and one who didn't know what the risks were and had no fault that those idiots believed they could just subdue anyone by rushing towards them.

Lazarus stayed quiet and completely immobile, arm still stretched infront of the scientist and squinted eyes unblinking. The only sound came from his large earpiece, which only hummed almost inaudibly in the silence of the tense enviornment.
More than stun guns, the guards needed horse tranquilizers. Outbursts like these never did have a good ending, and when you have a mutant speaking some satanic-sounding bullshit infront of you and you have no option but to fight or kill, you realize that the corproration needs a serious rearranging of their methods.

Doctor Lack better be good at communicating with hellspitting children, or they'd all be neck-deep in very serious problems.
He exchanged a stressed look with the short man, flared his nostrils and stared at the girl again, stoic and unflinching.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek Character Portrait: Subject 89
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Lack staggered back when he was pushed behind Lazarus, and watched his arm transform. He was curious, and almost forgot he was in a life-threatening situation as he wondered who designed it, as it certainly wasn't him. The whole armour was very un-Lack like, although he'd be very willing to fix it and make changes. It'd be different to do things other than make replacement arms and jaws and stomachs for once and maybe it'd help the guard as well! He peered from around Lazarus at the angry girl, trying to figure what she was yelling. Realising he might be frightening her with his rifle, he lowered it.

"I d-don't understand. You're talking f-funny, like..." here he tried to do an impression, "like that, and I don't understand. I can't help you, uhh, if I don't know what you're say-saying, hon."

He swallowed, still watching her, and wondered what the hell he could even do. He tried to think of his adopted sister Miranda, who was eleven, and what he did when she was acting up. Truthfully, there was no way Miranda could kill him, but maybe the theory was similar. Well, maybe it wasn't a good idea. When his siblings were staying around at his place and being pests, he threatened to cut their eyes out and do tests on them. If he didn't trust them in a room he had to leave, he'd remove his eye - suffering half blindness as a result - and tell them they were being watched by it. Obviously, that wouldn't work with her, and the only option he could think of would be to try to sweet talk her around and calm her down.

"Here. Do you w-want to, um, come with me for, ah, a cup of tea? Have a c-cal... calm down."

He kept his voice gentle and sincere, but still kept behind Lazarus. He'd just try and figure out what she wanted. In English, not Ominious Chanting. His stomach was in knots. His first day, no less... typical.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek Character Portrait: Subject 89 Character Portrait: Subject 84 Character Portrait: Mitchell "Mitch" Walker
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Apparently, Lack's attempts at communication had little to no effect on the female, who just continued with her string of gibberish in an apparently faster pace. Lazarus was tense, and presumably the rest of the guards were so, but if they dared move an inch, the cyborg's right fake eye would nearly glare holes on their heads. Truthfully, his stress was because of them, and not quite because of the mutant girl talking nonsense.

Not far from behind him came a cracking sound of a radio belonging to one of the guards. Lazarus looked at the man from the corner of his eye, clenching his jaw to avoid barking at him to turn that cursed thing off. The request that he made out of the radio's hiss was curious, though. A senior guard? The hell for?
Chaos was just stalking everyone in every corner, but Lazarus stayed put. Surely a security officer would've caught that, wouldn't they? He himself didn't carry a radio with him, and he had no idea if any of the others would be paying enough attention to the eventual transmissions as to attend them, but as he took in a sharp intake of breath to send one of the basics to the second floor, the elevator's doors opened to reveal that Subject 84 was inside. And the other guards? Probably dead.

He followed the mutant with his eyes as she climbed through the ceilings and dropped right in front of his arm. Ah, geez, how spectacular.
Without taking his gaze off of the girl, he lightly turned his head towards the officer behind him.
"Go to the second floor," The Elite hissed through gritted teeth, lowering his arm and, therefore, the now gun-shaped forearm that now acted as his weapon. He scanned the rest of the guards, nervous and impatient to do something about the two mutant girls ahead of Lack and himself. With a growl-like exhale, he gestured towards them. "And take those goons with you. Our rookie may need them more than I do."

Of course, the officer seemed dumbfounded by the request, and right at the bridge of protesting against Lazarus' order, but it was hard to go directly against the command of a superior they were trained to follow, and one as imposing and hard-headed as Lazarus wouldn't even listen to what they had to say.
The officer made a mute gesture at the men, and one by one they very cautiously retreated to the elevator, staying as far from both of the mutants as possible, murmuring quietly between themselves until the metallic door closed.

He turned back to the females in silence and scrutinized them closely. Yes, he had lowered his weapon, and so had the doctor, but he would not shift his mechanical limb back until he considered necessary to show a -not friendly- but at least a much less defensive position against them.
Lazarus' left arm, which had still remained in front of the scientist, fell only slightly. He felt much less upset now that the other officers were out of the way, but that did not mean that he'd stopped being wary of both of the mutants. But it was logical. The lack of hostility reflected towards them should calm them down to some extent. The least he wanted for now was an unnecessary confrontation, even though he'd possibly get in trouble for this.
Not that he cared much. MUH had lost so many soldiers that they couldn't afford to fire one of the well-trained staff, it wouldn't be sensical.

And Doctor Lack? The man had so far spilled everything BUT hostility. The cyborg merely pulled his weapon behind his back and held it with his other hand, perking himself just like the soldier he was and standing still like a statue but never letting down his guard. After all, he still didn't know the mutants well enough to predict their reactions.

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek Character Portrait: Subject 89 Character Portrait: Subject 84
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All this activity was really putting Lack on edge. Now this girl was yelling at them, and she seemed like some demonic creature. He shuddered, hoping she couldn't get big enough to rip him to shreds. He'd likely have a nervous breakdown by the end of the month if he kept getting near attacked. Either that, or shoot someone in the head. He glanced down to his gun - the safety was off and it was loaded, good. Taking a steady breath, he tried to calm himself down so he wouldn't stammer as much. He was still close to Lazarus and really wished he had a proper gun for fighting these guys if it got that far, and it looked like it would. The way Lazarus sent away the other guards didn't exactly reassure him, either.

"H-hello. We were trying to, um... f-f-figure what was up wi-with Subject 89. Bef-fore she, you know, fuckin' k-killed one of us, ahahaha."

The laughter was certainly nervous, and the swearing didn't come over as hostile, more as desperate. The damn letter would be an arm long. If he got out alive. He wanted out right now. He was sick of seeing people dying because all these teenagers decided to have a simoultaneous shitfit. He stared at this new girl with his regular and mechanical eyes. Lack had smiled and waved to her earlier. He'd tried to help the younger girl (admittedly to save his own skin, but the thought still counted, right?). Damned if Dr. Rainer T. Lack going to let himself die because some kid didn't seem to get ambiguous or neutral positions in fights, or because this new company he worked for didn't get how to secure the building properly. That, at least, made him feel a bit more confident. His shaky stare turned into its more usual solid glower and he squared his jaw.

"And I-I'd be pleased if you didn't yell at us."

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Character Portrait: Dr. Rainer Thorin Lack Character Portrait: Lazarus Radek Character Portrait: Subject 89 Character Portrait: Subject 84
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It was evident from the Elite's visible features that the mutant was increasingly upsetting him, and Lack's nervousness, ineffective as it was, only contributed to the large man's anxiousness. His cold, metallic fingers tapped upon his forearm's plates in a weak attempt to occupy himself away from snapping at the teenager and presumably make the situation worse than it was.
He sure hoped the doctor was enjoying his first taste of their irritably proud and condescending attitude. Moreover, the transformation from the youngest girl irked him further, as it just underlined the already discriminative behavior so present in them.

With each word, though, Lazarus found it harder to restrain his tongue. His piercing eyes glowered solely at the oldest of the two and his hand balled into a fist behind his back as the wrinkles between his brows accentuated.

Subject 84 had been so far sheltered under the kind roof of his patience, but the soldier did not tolerate disrespect, yelling and shouting. And thus that roof was slowly beginning to crumble on top of her. Although he wouldn't physically assault her, he'd most certainly snap at her, and the grave thundering voice the simulator on his throat gave him startled people who didn't hang around and talked to the man very often, which would be satisfying enough.

Even so, when the girl calmed her tone, it didn't quite help her situation. She still seemed to be demanding, and to her first notion, Lazarus couldn't help himself any longer.
"If your yelling is the equivalent of murdering," interrupted the guard, harshly. "I'm unsure as to what answers you expect from a carcass. Usually, politeness seems to work better. A language foreign to you, evidently."

His retort was crude and spoken sharply, without wincing or recoiling. He was annoyed, and he didn't need or found any reason in hiding it. The recklessness from the subject was far beyond what he was willing to put up with, but if his position wasn't expressive enough of her failure at intimidating him, he wouldn't mind confirming it again; just for good measure.