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Isaia Lorelei

"I guess if the only thing I can do for now is irritate the hell out of these guys, it's good enough...."

0 · 366 views · located in Somewhere in the American West

a character in “The Mutations”, as played by Jakuri-chan

Description

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FUNDAMENTALS
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Name
Isaia Marie Lorelei

Codename
Suspend

Gender
Female

Age
Eighteen

APPEARANCE
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Height
5 ft. 4 ins. | 162 cm

Weight
111 lbs. | 50 kg

Description
For the most part, Isaia looks like just about any run-of-the-mill woman of her age. She’s of considerably average height and of a slender build, she’s rather flatchested, has a small waistline and narrow hips. Her body’s overall build is somewhat on the androgynous side of the spectrum, if Isaia bothered to wear baggy clothing, she could easily be mistaken for a young boy. In spite of the rather neutral build that she boasts, Isaia does possess rather blatantly feminine facial features though; however those are rather obscured by the head of short, self-cut auburn hair that she keeps. Due to the circumstances of her life, Isaia never styles it and with how her bangs fall over her face, Isaia’s features are obscured to the point that she comes off looking rather genderless. Her face doesn’t look too soft, or too harsh, instead it looks about as average as everything else on her body.

Her eyes, however, are a different story. The one physical feature that Isaia has that stands out on her is the color of her eyes, which are a rather surprisingly bright shade of gold framed by rather thick lashes. Upon her person, the one thing that looks outstandingly feminine are her eyes.

When Isaia’s power activates, her eyes tend to kind of glow. Her eyes glow about as brightly as a full moon on a clear night. It is the only physical sign of her mutation what so ever . . . minus the fact that she tend to float, of course.


Preferred Clothing
Like everyone else trapped in the Facility, Isaia’s stuck wearing the standard grey jumpsuit that everyone dons, numbers on the front and on the back—however when she’s left to her own devices, Isaia tends to unzip the top half of the jumpsuit and roll it down to around her hips. Tying it in place with the suit’s sleeves, leaving her top half covered by the tanktop she can be seen wearing in her above picture.

Before she was brought to the Facility, Isaia dressed in a pretty casual manner; jeans, tee shirts, hoodies and Converse. She was never one who dressed to impress, rather she dressed to suit herself.


CAPABILITIES
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Skills/Talents
    Musical || Before Isaia manifested her Mutation and was taken to the Facility, she was seriously considering a career in music. Music was something that always interested her, enough that she took lessons throughout her life to learn how to play various instruments and also on how to sing. She was able to play the piano, guitar and she was working on learning drums on top of being able to sing relatively well. . . . Singing is one of the ways that Isaia passes the time these days, so it’s probably the only musical skill of hers that hasn’t degraded over the last however many months it’s been since she was captured.
    Quick-witted || Isaia is far from being a genius in any sense of the word, but she’s far from stupid. In many ways, she’s what one could call clever. She’s able to think on her toes, improvise with little issue, manage to do things on the fly, and she also has a rather terrible sense of humor that’s composed of sarcasm, puns, witty retorts and stupid jokes.

Mutation
    Telekinesis || The ability to influence, manipulate, or move objects and matter with one’s mind. In other words, Isaia is a psychic. Unlike some of the other people who have suffered mutations, Isaia only manifested one alteration in that the saying of “mind-over-matter” suddenly became a lot more relevant to her everyday life. . . . However, unlike many characters who are depicted as telekinetics in media, what Isaia can actually do with her power at the moment might leave one rather disappointed.

Abilities
    Telekinesis
      Levitation || For the moment, this the only trait of Isaia’s telekinesis that has actually exhibited itself. It’s what exposed her as a Mutant in the first place, and to date, it’s still the only thing she’s capable of doing with her power . . . and she’s not even able to use it at will yet. Isaia has absolutely no control over her telekinesis and by extension, her ability to levitate because of it. It happens at completely random instances—Isaia’s minding her own business and all of a sudden, she suddenly finds herself no longer adhering to the laws of gravity. She just floats. And there she stays until her telekinesis finally subsides and she comes crashing back down to the floor or ground. How long her floating episodes last varies, sometimes they only go on for 30 or so seconds, sometimes they last for upwards of an hour, and Isaia is left airborne or pressed against the ceiling. . . .


BACKGROUND
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Family/Significant Individuals


Personal History
It was during wintertime that Isaia’s life was forever changed when she was but a newborn babe, it wasn’t rain, but it was the snow that irrevocably changed her existence. Unbeknownst to Isaia’s mother and father, the snow that she walked through that December night was laced with chemicals that would one day cause her baby to manifest inhuman powers. She was born a winter baby, right before the solstice that marked the proper beginnings of wintertime the U.S.A. Addison Lorelei’s labor started a few weeks before her due date, and Isaia came into the world sooner than she was expected, though she was born tiny, she was still healthy. Mother and baby were allowed to go home within the next few days . . . it was during the walk from the hospital to the car that the first snow of the season began to fall.

From that point on, Isaia’s childhood was considerably normal. No signs of her mutation manifested in her childhood and besides always weighing a little less than the average girl her age, there was really very little remarkable about her. In almost all ways she was a completely normal, happy little girl who had no worries in the world. She had a happy home life, a loving mother and father, she had friends at school and she was always smiling brightly. When she was about six, Isaia developed a strong interest in music—enough that she convinced her parents to enroll her in piano lessons so that she might learn how to play. Unable to deny her, Isaia was inducted into lessons under the tutelage of a kindly old widow who gave piano lessons to bind away her time. . . .

It was about the time that Isaia entered into middle school that she began to change, she was only eleven at the time, but Isaia quickly found that the environment of middle school was severely different than that of the elementary school she’d attended. Being a small fish in a large pond, bullying became a problem for Isaia. The bright smile of hers waned by the day, to the point that she became dismal and gloomy, the complete opposite of her former self within five months of the sixth grade. Addison and Chester noticed the startling change in their daughter’s demeanor, and tried to coax out of her the reasons behind her sudden change in personality, but were never able to get her to open up. Both father and mother sought out Isaia’s teachers, but none of them were able to give the parents a reason behind their daughter’s changing behaviors, not a one of them was aware of the fact that Isaia had become a target for bullies.

Distraught, but unable to get her to talk to them, Addison and Chester let the matter rest with Isaia, figuring that she’d come to them whenever she was ready to talk about whatever had caused the shift in her mentality. Despite the fact that Isaia had suddenly changed into a far cry from her former self, there wasn’t actually anything really alarming about her . . . Isaia was quiet perhaps, but she didn’t misbehave nor did she ever neglect her studies and she kept up as well as ever with her piano lessons. . . . Her love of music never waned, and it got to the point that Isaia asked her parents for more lessons to throw herself into, and at the age of twelve she began to learn how to play the guitar and also began vocal classes.

About the time Isaia hit thirteen is when she finally began to come out of her shell again, she never really returned to the sunny girl she’d been before middle school, but she developed a complete and total love of music, videogames, and, naturally, the Internet. It was through these outlets that Isaia started to build herself up again, and turn into the person she still is to this day. She began to smile once more, but grew quite a sense of snark.

Her life continued pretty normally, up until halfway through her sixteenth year. To the day is when her mutation finally revealed itself. In the middle of the night, Isaia was suddenly jettisoned out of a deep sleep when she managed to hit her head on her . . . ceiling. Confused and terrified, Isaia began to flail and scream midair, waking her parents up who came running into their daughter’s bedroom just in time to see her suddenly drop back onto her bed from the air. Isaia rocketed up from her bed, face pallor and ashen, her mind reeling and utterly jumbled, when her eyes met those of her parents who stood in her bedroom doorway, stock still, their breath held. She could see it, they were scared too. Scared because of her, because of whatever in the hell had just happened to her. Without a word, Addison and Chester just turned around and walked out of their daughter’s bedroom; parents nor daughter couldn’t think of a thing to say to another.

Shaking, and horrified, Isaia’s mind reeled and came to a hasty decision that only sounds good to a teenager.

Without hesitating, she pulled a duffel bag out of her closet and started to throw clothes into it, crying and sobbing all the while. She grabbed the money she’d been saving up to buy a new computer, threw on a jacket and her shoes, and foregoing any other thoughts, she bolted out of her room, down the stairs and out the backdoor before her parents could physically do anything to stop her. As she sprinted through the yard and into the woods that lined the back of their property, Isaia could hear her parents shouting for her to come back, and she could even hear their frantic footfalls as they gave her chase . . . but Isaia had always been faster than them, she’d always been better at navigating the woods than they.

Under the cover of the moon and trees, Isaia ran as far away as her legs and lungs would let her. She was happy that her parents had bothered at all to come after her, but she couldn’t go back to them after seeing the fear on their faces after she’d apparently levitated off her bed. Of course, Addison and Chester called the police as soon as they realized they couldn’t catch her themselves. A bulletin was put out about her, her description given and a picture of her, smiling, was plastered all over the local new stations while her situation was called a tragedy. Her parents had told the police that they’d had a rather nasty spat with her, and that was why she’d runaway in the middle of the night. Isaia even saw her parents on TV once, at a café two towns over, as they were interviewed and while her mother gave a sobbing plea for Isaia to come home, that everything would be okay if she did. . . .

Of course she wanted to go home, she wanted to hitch a ride on a bus and just run back into the arms of her mom and dad, but she couldn’t muster up the bravery to do it—the levitation she’d experienced the night she’d run away kept happening to her. Sometimes she’d just be ducking down an alleyway and all of sudden she was level with the second floor of an apartment build. . . . It never stopped, and it only became more frequent as time was going on. How could Isaia possibly think of going back to her parents when something was so obviously wrong with her?

And in spite of her yearning to be with her parents again, the doubt that ate away at her kept Isaia from returning. And as the months passed, so did the constant news coverage about her. Eventually, the police gave up actively looking for her, and her case went cold. Isaia lived on the run for months before it was she finally had a slipup with her levitation. It happened in front of someone for the very first time besides her parents, and word spread. Her little anti-gravity act was caught on the security camera of a nearby bank, and eventually, this information found its way to some interested parties.

She managed to elude them for about a week-and-a-half before she was finally detained. Just after Isaia had turned seventeen, agents from the Facility managed to bring her in and have her locked away with others like her. There was very little cover-up to worry about with her case as well, seeing that Isaia had runaway from home months before. In some way, there was a measure of relief for Isaia, learning that she was far from the only person who had what they were calling a mutation. But that didn’t mean she was comfortable being confined.

As time passed, and Isaia learned more about her situation, what caused the mutations in herself and her fellow prisoners, a certain sense of determination blossomed within her. She was angry, she had someone to finally blame for screwing her otherwise happy life up. This was the fault of some power-hungry dumbasses that couldn’t leave well enough alone and just had to go the mad scientist route and start up on human experimentation. Guards came and went, keeping a vigil on her and the others, while scientists and doctors alike flowed through her life over the months, running tests on her, exposing her to different stimuli in an attempt to garner some kind of reaction from what they deemed as her telekinesis, only to fail each time. No matter what they did to her, no matter what medicines they shoved into her veins, Isaia’s telekinesis never manifested itself in any other form than her occasionally and randomly floating up off the ground.

And it’s like this that Isaia has lived for the last months of her life, growing weary, irritated and all the more bitter—she’s developed a reputation among the staff at the Facility for her sharp tongue and quick feet. She was made to go without the gunk that passes as food at the Facility for two days because she managed to kick one of the scientists working on her between the legs hard enough to make him about pass out. Despite being starved for two days, Isaia felt like it was completely worth it and she still giggles to herself whenever she thinks about it. Besides singing, the one thing Isaia derives enjoyment from is annoying the Facility’s staff.


Goal
Isaia wants freedom. She wants revenge, she wants to make the Facility burn for their arrogance and for ruining her life, and the lives of all those like her who are trapped. For now though, she settles for being able to irritate the staff with her sarcasm, puns, and retorts.

So begins...

Isaia Lorelei's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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The Facility, as the soldiers had called the place, looked like a cross between an underground bunker and a mental hospital. There were men and women walking around in long white coats along side other men and women wearing what Val knew were military uniforms, even if the soldiers denied that's what they were. Apparently down here they were simple called officers, never mind the automatic rifles they carried slung across their shoulders.

Cages, of course there were cages. Years ago when those men had come for Val the first time and his father had distracted them long enough for him to escape, he had the feeling that those men in the suits were connected to cages somehow. Of course they weren't really cages, not like the ones they put animals in. They were cells, but the ones that Val could see as the two officers dragged him through the Facility, those were plain steel bars, cold concrete floors, and little more within and cots. The officers reached the last in a long line of these cages and tosses Val into one of them.

Now, normally Val would have fought back, and with what he could do, his mutation? He could definitely inflict more damage onto the soldiers before they could subdue him again. But there were two problems with this. First, Val was in a strait jacket, and his legs were shackled. Hence the dragging. Not that he would have simply walked along behind these bastards to begin with. Second, one of the soldiers had shot him with some sort of tranquilizer dart, which had worn off shortly after they'd tossed Val into the back of a black van, but after figuring out how quickly his body burned through such drugs, they had replaced the dart in his neck with an IV, and he was on a constant flow of the stuff, which kept him in a dazed state between awake and asleep.

Val didn't know how much these guys knew about him, about what all he could do, so once they locked him up he let the IV drain, then remained stuck in the strait jacket. Even though he could have easily condensed the iron in his blood, pushed it through his skin, and sliced through the jacket easily enough, he had yet to show off this ability, and wanted to keep it a secret. All that they knew about him, so far as Val knew, was that he healed fast and his body didn't like being drugged.

When one of the men in the white coats, along with two of the soldiers, came into his cage a few hours later, Val said nothing. He answered no questions, did not strike out at them, didn't activate his iron blood even when one of the soldiers took out a blade of his own and ran the edge across Val's face, opening up a deep red would that healed in moments. Following this the man in the white coat had drawn blood, taken tissue samples, even cut off Val's left ear just to see if he could grow it back. When the man had established that he could indeed grow and ear back, he decided it would be a good idea to come back again and again over the course of the next tree days do it again, and again, and again...

O his fourth day at the Facility, they had drugged Val once more, long enough to strip him down and place him in a grey jumpsuit with a number across the chest and back, then they had shackled his arms and legs and marched him down a long hall. On either side of this hall there were more cages, but these were different, each one looked a little unique in some way, and Val noted the occupants in each.

There was...right off Val couldn't tell it if they were male or female, but there was a figure floating in their cage, their head touching the ceiling. The front of her cell was made of bars, like the ones Val had been behind.

There was a woman that looked a few years younger than Val himself in a cage, the front of which seemed to be made of some sort of glass. He spotted vents in the floor and ceiling which, he guessed, would be capable of flooding the room with some sort of gas to knock the occupant out if need be.

There was a man with a lot of piercings in a room similar to the last, except here Val noted that there was a temperature gauge on the wall beside the door of the cage. Maybe this fellow could catch fire?

There was a dark looking little girl with black eyes and hair. Like the one who had been floating, her cage looked rather normal, except it too had a glass front, and as he was dragged by it, Val couldn't hear a whisper of a sound coming from within.

The last cage he remembers passing by, there seemed to be an officer inside, but before his eyes the officer changed and soon Val saw himself standing in the cage, which looked as plain as the first one.

Eventually Val was thrown into another cage. This one had thick steel bars on the outward facing walls, a concrete floor that was at least painted, white, so it wasn't as rough, and he even had a cot, a small table and a single chair. If Val was right, each cage started out the same, but then the men in white would modify them to fit whoever was placed inside. Because they, for now, only thought he had a faster healing factor, they didn't see a problem in throwing him in just any cage.

That would be their mistake.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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Kora had never been a woman who made life easy for herself.

A long trail of broken familial relationships and poor choices had been enough to cement that as fact in her life.

In the last couple of months though, it had proven itself to go far further than that.

Detained, pushed from pillar to post and dragged off halfway across the planet over the first couple of weeks of her detainment, from there she had discovered herself imprisoned. More than that, made some kind of guinea pig for experimentation. Scans, readings, biopsies. She'd been opened and closed and otherwise invaded more times than she could count in the last few weeks.

The data they were gathering on this very interesting altered physiology was quite fascinating.

But Kora herself did not care at all for scientific progress.

What she cared about was that she was trapped, and could not leave.

A more cunning or perceptive prisoner might have tried to pal up with the guards, or tried to observe the patterns of the place without showing their hand.

Kora was neither of those things. The phrase 'challenging' had been placed on a few pieces of documentation. The word 'feral' had been muttered by one or two researchers after spending much time around this relatively new subject.

The time since her arrival had been one of constant shouting, screaming, flinging herself against the glass and making it extremely clear that she would try and maul anyone within arm's length. Kora refused to co-operate. Violently. And the Facility responded in kind, with no intention of being intimidated.

She had ade life extremely hard for herself, and, some weeks into her stay in the lovely land of the Facility, constant resistance was wearing her down.

Kora sat against the wall of her cell, up in the corner between a side wall and the glass frontage, feet planted on the floor and her hands knotted through the wild mop of her ginger hair.

Her head was pounding. Partially from burning her powers out with the lack of food she'd had, and the fact that she was getting enough sedatives to fell a race horse on a regular basis.

She hadn't eaten in days.
Her knuckles were purple and bloody from hours of attempting to break through the glass.

Mind over matter was a great idea, but tenacity didn't always pay off.

She felt like shit. Probably looked that way too. This was in no way doing her any good.

Even so, as the staff made their way past with some new unfortunate bastard stuck in this place, the scandinavian mutant still shot them a poisonous glare from under her tangled mane, and swung one arm out to drive her fist against the solid wall. There was a sharp thud, and a few flakes of the surface splintered off onto the concrete.

Well that was great.
If she kept that up she could break out by the time she was one hundred and twenty eight.

Kora would have liked to call on something moderately insightful, or encouraging as a mode of greeting some new arrival. Something memorable or likely to be useful in the weeks and months ahead. But hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and a fair number of drugs still present in her system meant that instead of that, the greeting she offered up was more along the lines of...

"...welcome to the facility cupcake! It's like being a rat in a maze....except there's no maze...and you aren't a rat...and everything is terrible!"

Which made even less sense with slurring, raspy throat, and a strong nordic accent.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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She’d long ago lost track of how many days, weeks or months it had been since she’d been brought into the hellhole that was oh-so-imaginatively christened the Facility. The only thing that she was certain of was that she had been there longer then any sane person should be—was she even still sane? Could someone be put behind bars, denied the sun, denied the moon, the stars, the concept of nature in general for as long as she had and not descend into utter lunacy? Maybe she had gone insane, and maybe all the things that happened to her were just delusions of her very disturbed mind. Perhaps she couldn’t actually levitate and that was just all in her head! ....maybe everything was all in her head.

That’d be terribly convenient, though, it would be such an easy and simple explanation, so, of course that couldn’t be it. No, everything she’d undergone in the last however-many-months had been real, and she was well within the realm of reality, no matter how screwed up it was, and no matter how unbelievable it should’ve been. She knew that all too well, but she couldn’t help but entertain the notion of mental illness from time-to-time. At least if she was insane, it would make everything actually make some semblance of sense in what was now her senseless life, it would mean that she imagined her floating spells and that the medical staff that was in and out of her cage, hooking her up to IV poles, sticking her with syringes full of Satan knew what and pushing substances into her body were actually trying to make her better.... But, there was no better.

Within her first week of detainment, Isaia was more than able to comprehend what they were doing with her, what they were doing with the others they had trapped. She saw the morbid fascination in the eyes of a man who’d entered into her cage after she’d been forcibly brought here. Herself and everyone within the Facility were nothing more than test subjects to him and all the staff there. They weren’t human in their eyes anymore, they were curiosities and they would be held at the mercy of these people until either death claimed them or a miracle occurred and they somehow managed freedom.

There wasn’t even a snowball’s chance in Hell that miracle would occur, and Isaia was able to comprehend that too. And for as hopeless as things were, her spirit somehow still hadn’t been dulled. The days wore on, and she grew more disgusted with the greyish, chunky goop the Facility’s staff tried to pass off as food, but the bleak environment wasn’t enough to wear on her. If anything, it just made her resolve to be an irksome pest that much stronger. Anytime she could rile up a guard or doctor, it reminded Isaia that despite their own brand of insanity, that they were themselves still human, and were capable of being felled like anyone else. Punishments, attempts to starve her into submission or cooperation—anything and everything they tried to do to her only further served to remind her that her captors really were no different than she was.

It was just another day in paradise for Isaia as she awaited either someone coming into her cage to both poke and prod at her again, or for her goop tray to arrive, and like she did every so often, she waited without a sound against the smooth and cool ceiling of her cell, that pesky telekinesis of hers revving itself up again without her consent. She expected things to go as they had been for the last some odd weeks, a continuous cycle that would go for some unfathomable amount of time. One of the new Mutants that had been brought into the Facility had just concluded one of her violent displays, and it was quiet again. When Isaia heard more footfalls than usual traversing the corridor of the many cells that had been built to house more Mutants than Isaia could understand, she bothered to pull her gaze away from the floor of her cage, casting her glowing eyes toward the thick bars that kept her trapped as Facility staff walked by, a new inhabitant in tow, shackled up. Another Mutant caught and brought to this place to join their happy little family.

When a sharp thud resounded throughout the general area—Isaia didn’t flinch or withdrawal into herself like she might’ve a few weeks ago, she knew well enough from where it originated at this point, from the Mutant who oft had outbursts. As her new neighbor was shoved into what would now be his humble abode for however many months to years to come, Isaia heard a slur of words, laced with exhaustion and a terribly heavy accent she couldn’t place directed at the new blood. She managed to make out the last of her words, ...and everything is terrible!”

The bluntness of that statement was enough to elicit a rather loud, unladylike snort from Isaia, because it was true. Everything in the Facility was terrible! She couldn’t resist the natural snark that bubbled up in her throat as she drew her knees up and into her chest, her gangly arms wrapping around them. “You got that right, Captain Obvious! Everything here is frigging terrible.”

Another snort came out, “We ain’t got a lick of sunshine in here, everything’s monotone, what they think passes for food is some bizarro chunky, grey goop that they slop in a tray—I imagine that it's what despair tastes like, by the way—and not a one of our oh-so-generous hosts has a sense of humor!” It was at that moment that Isaia’s body decided to conform to the laws of gravity again, and she came plummeting down to the hard floor with a thud, her eyes lost their glow, and she pulled herself up, sitting Indian style without missing a beat. “Wanna see what I mean about no one having a sense of humor? Watch n’listen!”

Isaia turned her eyes to one of the guards who’d been escorting her new neighbor as they walked past her cell, “Hey! Officer Milton, what do you call a psychic midget who’s escaped from jail?” she snorted again while the official she’d addressed stared at her, unamused, still walking away, “You call ‘em a small medium at large! HA!!” When Isaia got utterly no response from the guard, she began to crack up at her own terrible joke. “S-See what I mean about no one here having a sense of humor?! That was funny as hell, and not even a smile from him. Ha, what a terrible audience....”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by Wake
Lying on his coat down the hall, the red haired and heavily pierced man gave a groan. "Of course Mil isn't gonna get it, Iz. He's about as stupid as your sense of humor is shitty. Now would you cunts kindly shut up so some of us can get some sleep."

Darin had lost track of the amount of time since he had been dragged into this little hellhole he now called home. He could scarcely remember how he got interned in the facility. He knew it was probably during a robbery that went bad as he did remember setting some place on fire only to be cornered by a team of armed gunmen. Everything after that was a bit of a blur until he woke up strapped to an operating table.

What followed in those first two weeks had been a series of unsuccessful escape attempts. The staff had quickly figured out what precautions to take when it came to the arsonist tendencies towards spontaneous immolation of his local environment. The first time he had made a break for it when being escorted to a one of the nebulous "test" that everyone went through and nearly made it out of the detention level before he had been brought down men armed with tranquilizers. After that they no longer brought him out of his cell without a significant amount of fire suppression available. Then he tried melting the hinges of his cell door to get out, which would have worked had the people watching the camera caught wind of it. Finally he had been transferred to a new specialized room with Riot foam sprinklers installed in the ceiling and heat gauge wired up to them. This last one he only tried getting out of once before, and it ended with him pinned to the ground with stick sludge whist the guards gave him the beating of a life time.

Darin had since then partially given up and lulled into a new routine of squatting in his room, cussing at any staff members that passed by, and occasionally getting into verbal sparring matches with the floating girl down the hall. The last one being both a means of letting off steam and having some vague form of conversation to starve off the constant boredom. He did note the new arrival like the others. He was a slight oddity in that he was the only other Male since Darin himself to get assigned to this wing. Well, unless you counted Marcus, but he disappeared months ago when the doctors took him away one morning and never came back.

He gave the new guy a passing glance as he was lead by. Darin dismissed the man as not looking anything special to the Arsonist, just another punk that got dragged into this mess. The guards weren't even putting that much security on the guy by the looks of it. "The pussy doesn't look like he'll last the week before they cut him open anyway." He concluded aloud. "If he does then I might bother to learn his name." And with that Arson settled back down again to continue his nap.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by WilPen

Thirteen was having the best day of her life. She'd been moved from her windowless cell with a solid metal door into a bigger windowless cell with bars. She could finally see beyond her own prison and there was only more prison.

In her old cell, the room was wide enough for a small cot to touch each wall and there was about 2 feet between the cot and the door. This room was fit for a princess in a fairytale. It was massive. Though getting there wasn't all peaches and creme.

She'd been woken up rather suddenly by a man she'd never seen before. He wore a white coat so she figured he was a scientist.
Upon opening her eyes, her chameleon (she read about them in a book once) like instincts kicked in and she took his form. He was rather tall so her, er… his legs were smashed against the wall and her neck was at an awkward angle on the other wall.

To his credit, the scientist just laughed it off claiming, “So it is true.” He tsked and scribbled something on his clipboard. Without looking up from his writing, he left the cell. Upon making a hand. Gesture, he was flanked by 2 guards. All Thirteen could catch from their whispered conversation was something about “interacting with the other subjects”.

Thus, Thirteen made her debut in the hallways of the Facility after a 6 year absence. Escorted by 2 guards and a clipboard, she was attached to an electric type leash and walked to an elevator that took her to her new abode. The crisscrossing lines of lightning seemed to hover just over her skin, but when she changed into the smaller form of one of the guards, the lines shrunk with her. When she changed back to the newcomer, they grew again.

Unfortunately for Thirteen, it seemed like everyone she passed by was asleep. There were no friends to be made today.

Moving had be humiliating, but Thirteen's Castle, as she was calling her new home, was worth it. There was so much room she thought perhaps she could change into an elephant and have room to spare. This was false of course, but she didn't care.

Thirteen was careful to show only a little enthusiasm for the changes outwardly. In the facility, they were quick to take away the things you enjoy just because they can. Though it was probably easy enough to tell since she spent the rest of the night spread eagle on the floor until she heard stirrings from the other cages.


As it turns out, staring at a blank wall through bars is much better than not having a view at all. She was even able to watch the guards patrolling while she ate [while sitting at a table!]. Thirteen was pleased to note it was a good food day. There seemed to be quite a few other people around. Occasionally she'd mimic what she heard in their voice like an echo. It was like having a television, so Thirteen assumed. The true entertainment came when a new man was brought in.

The others seemed to come alive as he made his way down the hall. The loud rhythmic pounding that had been going on for hours ceased. A voice calling out about how everything sucks. One girl, started cracking jokes and insulting the food. Another voice, a man's, started spouting sentences that contained a lot of words she'd only heard when she was especially mean to the guards.

Thirteen figured their rooms weren't as nice as hers. Perhaps they didn't get their own table. Though she did understand what they said about the food. It was nothing like the candy shed had, but it did have its good days.

When the newcomer finally made his way to her, Thirteen quickly took his form as she is wont to do. He looked out of it, but she gave him a smile anyway. Despite what the others had said, life in the Facility wasn't bad. Then again, it was all she knew. Perhaps he would feel the way the others did. Either way, Thirteen’s day kept getting more exciting.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by Zalgo
There she sat.

In a stark white room lit by a single white light in the center of the roof, covered with a protective casing. Every wall was padded save the front which was reinforced glass. The whole room was sealed so as to keep sound from leaking through. It only helped a bit.

She could still hear it all. The weaker sounds were not audible but closer ones, the sounds of the facility itself, were leaking into her room in a dull roar. Though muffled she could hear all their voices, all their footsteps, all their heartbeats. She could hear the sound of electricity coursing about the lightbulb. The various machines which occupied the facility all sang a song of their own. It was like having an entire world performing in active discord right in her own cranium.


Olivia had only been at the facility a couple days before the latest arrival. Before she'd had even made it through the front door she had already screamed so long her voice was gone. She had been going days without sleep or any form of maintainance. She hadn't eaten or drank anything, her hair was a mess and cold sweat clung to her skin. All of it didn't matter though. She'd give up most human rights if it would make the pain stop.

But it never stopped.


One specific detail to note was that she was not offered any kind of sedatives whatsoever. The doctor who was overseeing her personally, Doctor Joseph Ritter, had explicit instructions for her handlers. One such instruction, highlighted for emphasis, was Do not under any circumstance use sedatives or any other form of medication on the subject.

Quite an odd instruction but biddable. She wasn't of any threat to anyone given the fact she wasn't able to demonstratively hurt anyone given her size, frailty and inability to manifest her mutation in any meaningfull manner. This meant however that there would be no chemical assistance for the pain she was in.


The purpose behind this demand is that Dr. Ritter wanted to monitor her brain's functions without alteration from outside influences. Things like sedatives and other formulas hamper her frame of thought and even a subtle tampering can make information gathered through testing unreliable. He wanted pure testing results, nothing less would suffice.

He did have the credentials to issue these requests. As a leader in the fields of neurobiology, psychology and medicine his opinions on the subject came with a measure of respect, even within the facility. He met that fine line of both genius and unscrupulous which made him a suitable pick for such a project.


They were still setting up the testing chambers for her. They had something specific in mind. All the while she was given a particularly well sealed room to stay in, only as much comfort as they could offer someone without use of painkillers.

She sat there, dead center of the room, simply staring at the floor. The voices down the hall spoke towards the new arrival. She didn't just hear them, she could feel the sensation of their sounds. The different pitches and tones flowed like a waterfall. She could see their voices rippling out like distortions in the fabric of reality. Waves were constantly flowing through the walls like ripples in a pond on a rainy day. This room of hers was barely adequate but it was still a shelter from the storm.


With the pain still present but not at it's fevered pitch emotion was able to leak into her mind. A terrible sadness for just how unfair everything was. Some who were here might feel injustice at the lives they are being denied while locked away. She didn't have that same sense of loss. Her life was miserable to begin with as she was hated without clear reason, just different excuses from everyone. Now she's suddenly struck with unbearable agony and brought into a place where people with unusual abilities are imprisoned.

Why then was she picked? Why was her power to exist in some state which brings nothing but pain while others seem to live on as usual? She wondered about these very questions in the period of peace she was able to afford. She was able to hear distant conversations but they were always competing for her attention, blaring at volumes far too loud to be healthy for her. She wasn't able to pick out the men discussing the preparations for her tests... And the time which she was going to be brought out for said tests.


It wasn't long off.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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Val didn't make a sound as he was marched down the hall and shoved into his cell. For a moment, as one of the guards opened the door, he had thought of pooling a good amount of iron in his feet, making his legs heavy so they couldn't just simply shove him into his new cage. He could then condense the iron into a blade and have it pop out through his heel without hindrance from any shoes. They had taken his boots and hadn't given him anything else to wear on his feet. Yes, he could have done that, but it would have given away his true abilities too soon.

Now that he was locked in his cage, Val walks over and takes a seat on his cot. The guards were kind enough to remove the shackles before locking the door behind him, and as he sits he rubs his wrists and looks around. Bare walls and floor. Aside from the cot, chair, and small table, all he found in his room was a camera in the corner near the ceiling. Of course they'd want to watch him. He had also noted several cameras in the hallways he'd been brought down on his way here. If he was going to get out, he'd need to do something about those. Maybe there was someone in this place with electric powers? He supposed it was possible.

In the couple of years of running Val had done, he'd found himself in a small desert town, in Arizona maybe, and he'd come across a couple of mutants there. One of them, Rat he'd called himself, and the name certainly fit him, looked like a cross between a man and a rat. He was a head shorter than Val, but he had all the abilities of a rat, such as teeth which could gnaw through iron pipes. Rat had friends, and together they'd made the Burrow, which was basically a big hole in the ground out in the middle of nowhere, a haven for their kind. Val hadn't stayed but a couple of days, he and the leader didn't get along. Maybe if he got out of this place he'd go back though.

Val had listened to the others as he'd passed. Bad jokes, insults, slurred warnings as far as he could tell. Only the one who had changed to look at Val had smiled. It made him wonder if the mutant, for he wasn't sure given the mutation if it was male or female, could only change to look like someone else, of if they gained abilities as well?

A few hours passed, giving him plenty of time to think this all over. Soon it was dinner time, or maybe breakfast? There was no way to keep track of time down here. No windows, no clocks or watches. Val had noted that even the soldiers and scientists didn't wear watches. Whatever. A woman in a white coat, flanked by guards, came down the hall and, one by one, everyone was given a tray of the grey slop the girl down the hall had mentioned.

"The hell is this stuff?" Val asks, sitting stock still on his cot as the woman placed the tray on his table. The guards kept their guns drawn on him. Bullets didn't kill him, or they hadn't so far, but they hurt like hell.

"Your meal, Number Forty Seven." The woman said, giving him a wary, plastered on smile. It was obvious this was just a job to her, nothing more, and she did not particularly enjoy it. "Don't worry about what it is. It'll keep you alive, but I won't force you to eat it."

Once the woman was out, the door was locked, and the Facility staff members were on their way back down the hall, Val stood and made his way over to the table. There was a glass of water with the slop, made of that unbreakable plastic. Just as the heavily accented girl who'd punched the wall had said, the food, and everything else in this place, was terrible.

"So how hard is it to get out of this place?" Val calls down the hall as he eats, ignoring the taste, or lack there of, of the slop.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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By the time the next mealtime came, Kora had returned very much to her usual activity. Her system had shaken off most of what had been slowing her down, so, despite the fast that she was still sporting a splitting headache and probably a couple of fractured knuckles, the ginger-haired had taken to once more to prowling up and down her cell like a caged bear and striking repeatedly against the glass, leaving scuffs and flecks of blood on the surface...but frustratingly, very little else.

Occasionally she punctuated it by shouting threats in english or norwegian in hope they would find some audience.

She had, in the past, flung furniture around, successfully tearing up a table that had been bolted to the floor...but due to that they'd ended up removing pretty much anything from the cell that was not embedded into the concrete. So she was both sitting and sleeping on the floor. It didn't bother her much. By her own standards it was hardly roughing it, and if the only means of revenge at the moment was making more work for her captors then she'd happily put herself through whatever she needed to.

Soon enough the berserker heard the approach of staff and walked over to the steel panel set down in the corner of the room.

The cell was set up in a fashion that the food could be pushed in through a previously sealed hatch in the corner by placing it in a drawer and pushing it through, something that gave the occupant next to no opportunity to grab the person on the other side.

It had been established some time previously that the threat of being shot didn't actually work to deter Kora in any way. It was quite clear that her fearlessness went straight into complete lack of self-preservation instinct, and the idea that she might get killed in the process of lashing out didn't appear to occur to her...or at the very least, didn't appear to bother her if it did.



As such this had been decided upon. The tray was posted through into the cell, and all Kora was able to do was glare and growl and mutter empty threats at the scientist and guards, who were free to summarily ignore her.

She was hungry. Extremely so. She also didn't trust anything that they were handing out. Who knew what was in the damn thing. Initially she hadn't regarded the tasteless stuff with a lot of concern...until it had occurred to her that they could easily drug the food. And the water. And whatever they were handing out. If they were going to do that, she was not going to make it any easier for them than absolutely necessary.

With one well-timed sweep of her hand Kora upended the tray, sending it clattering against the glass and splattering a wide arc of grey sludge across the once-transparent surface.

That was one way to get a bit of privacy.


It was around this time that another voice spoke up, one she could only assume to be the individual brought earlier, asking a stupid question
"Oh, really easy. I'm only sticking around for the WONDERFUL ATMOSPHERE!"Kora shouted back, kicking the upended tray against the glass just for added emphasis.
"Do you think ANYONE would be in this hole if it weren't so god damn hard to get out of it?! I've been trying to break out of this fucking box for months and I've not gotten anywhere!"

Months..or possibly weeks. It was impossible to tell in this fucking purgatory with no windows or time reference and bar lights that were never turned off. It was enough to drive you insane.

Not that it would have been all that easy to tell from someone with Kora's rather.... 'challenging' behaviour.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by Wake
Meal time came. Darin barely even bothered to look at the plate filled with "Food" of nebulous quality that was slid into his cell. Instead he turned back over and tried to slip back into his nap as he had planned. Sleep however was not going to be easily won, because moments later he heard his neighbor start piping up and shouting.

"Oh, really easy. I'm only sticking around for the WONDERFUL ATMOSPHERE! Do you think ANYONE would be in this hole if it weren't so god damn hard to get out of it?! I've been trying to break out of this fucking box for months and I've not gotten anywhere!"

"Oh break out?" Arson lifted his head to shout back to her. "Is that what you've been calling your never ending PMS session! You'd be to busy screaming and banging on things to get out a fucking paper bag bitch." Despite how irritable being towards the others and his instance on getting time to sleep, Darin actually figured he might as well join in on this conversation. He had learned a long time ago that the only way to pass the time down here was either to catch z's or yell at the other occupants of this cell block and hear what they yelled back. Though that too generally tended to wear thin as with them being stuck in the same predicament of having nothing but the same four walls and crappy food for weeks on end didn't breed much new conversation material.

Having a new "neighbor" sometime lightened this up but such arrivals generally came back to the same tired conversation. "Really it's not that hard. The guards here are all a bunch of fucking pussies that shit themselves as so as you flip a finger in their general direction." His voice notedly started to take on a bragging tone as he continued. "I've nearly gotten out myself twice now. Almost even made it to the surface before the bastard clamped down the big ass steal doors. Even that I almost melted through before some guys in some shitty swat get up rushed me." He held his arms up above him an let out a dramatic sigh. "So fucking close. Thirty more seconds and the I would have said syanora to this shit hole."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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Isaia knew fully well how absurdly terrible her sense of humor was; Darin always saw fit to point out what the obvious in that regard. Her sense of humor was the one thing she had going for her in this monotone hellhole. Sometimes, she wondered if he was trying to get a rise out of her by insulting her jokes and puns.... Yet other times, he joined her in razzing the Facility’s staff. Either way, Isaia didn’t mind, whether he was telling her to more or less can it, or if he was hitching a ride on the bandwagon. By this point, she was more than used to Darin’s wishy-washy personality toward her, after all, he was the only company she’d had for the months he’d been here, and vice versa. Before his arrival, Isaia had been completely alone in this corridor of cages, left to her own devices when she wasn’t being poked, prodded or having parts of her numb while scalpels were taken to her for samples. And given that the staff wasn’t even kind enough to leave her with a TV or even a damn book, the company was welcome, even if it was foul-mouthed and oft abrasive company.

Still, when Isaia heard him tell everyone to shut up so that he could sleep, it made her snicker and giggle like the moron her jokes made her out to be. She had said her piece, however, revealing the lacking sense of humor present in the Facility’s staff to the newcomer, Milton hadn’t even batted an eyelash at her joke, and merely gazed at her as if she were nothing more than a monkey in a zoo mimicking human behaviors. That wasn’t a surprise. Most of the armed guards treated her like that; she was more than used to it. She expected it. To the people who ran this place, that’s all she was. She was an exhibit to be studied and dissected at their mercy, as far as they were concerned. She’d lost her status as human the moment she first levitated off her bed in the middle of the night however-long-ago. The moment that happened, she’d become something else as far as the world knew. The only individuals who probably still thought of her as human were her parents and herself...on occasion. Moments did come to and fro where she began to forfeit thoughts of her humanity given her uncontrollable supernatural ability.

But always did she think of herself as human again, in time. It didn’t matter what the Facility’s staff believed or how they viewed her, Isaia knew that she still had a mind, a heart and a soul the same as any other person, the only difference was that she occasionally forgot how to gravity. Oh, and her eyes glowed, apparently. She hadn’t actually noticed that herself, and only came to realize it when the scientists observing one of her spells made a verbal note of it on a recorder.

As things went quiet in the corridor of cages, Isaia did so as well. No point in mindless chatter for the moment, best to ease in the newcomer to it all. The bleak grey, the too-smooth surfaces and barred barriers that separated them from each other and the world.... It took some time to acclimate to it and to understand that this was it for God knew how long.

A deep sigh slipped from the girl’s lips as she flopped herself over backward, resting her head on the hard floor, while she stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing one foot over the other, she laced her fingers together to rest haphazardly upon her diaphragm, and she stared at the ceiling as she had every day for unknown months. A period of peace fell over the corridor, over the cages and their inhabitants while Isaia passed the idle time, humming songs to herself that she’d memorized in the life she had before all this while she made her mind remember the notes and chords to them at the same time, even if she might never touch a guitar or piano again, she didn’t want to forget.

The hours passed quicker than one might think for Isaia as she fell into the recesses of her mind, recalling the music she’d always loved so much, and before she knew it, she heard several sets of footsteps echoing down the hallways again—seemed it was time for one of her daily trays of goop! Brought out of her musical trance, Isaia let out a single laugh to herself, before she sat up with an obnoxiously loud groan and stretched, popping her spine and cracking her neck as well. By this point, she knew the drill about meal time; Dr. Sterling would come in, flanked by guards, one of whom was usually Milton, plop a tray of the grey goop down on her pathetic table with a glass of water, a phony smile pasted on her face to make her appear compassionate toward her charges, and be out of there faster than a sneeze.

All of the while, Isaia was expected to remain where she was while the guards kept their weapons trained on her at all times to ensure she didn’t go crackers and jump the doctor in a vain effort to escape. As if they had anything to worry about from her anyway; she couldn’t do anything with her telekinesis besides float like a balloon. Isaia sat in place, Indian-style with her hands on her bare feet as she heard the multitude of footsteps halt in front of her cage. Keys jangled, and her barred cell door opened wide as in walked Dr. Sterling, as she had with several of the other captives.

Just as always, there was Milton again, standing in the cell’s doorway with his gun drawn and trained onto her. This happened, three times a day, every day. “Yo, Officer Milton, do ya’ll really think it’s necessary to keep a gun on me?” she snorted while Milton simply narrowed his cold eyes on her, “Seriously, Dr. Sterling, you know by now that I’m literally as harmless as a friggin’ balloon, here. Cuz, all I actually do is float...?”

The blonde-headed doctor just looked at Isaia, that practiced smile never faltering, “Number Twenty-two, you know that we must take every precaution to ensure the safety of you, your fellow inmates, and the Facility’s staff. No matter how harmless you might be, in theory, anyone can be dangerous.” Isaia just let out a loud huff of air at the woman’s well-rehearsed response.

“Whatever helps y’sleep at night, doc.”

Isaia heard the goop tray and glass of water being set onto the table, as Dr. Sterling’s high-heeled shoes clicked against the cold floor as she left the cell, the door being shut behind her, Milton and the other armed guards continuing their routine down the corridor with the other captives. Despite being given something to quell her appetite, Isaia didn’t make a move yet. It wasn’t like she had anything to look forward to on that table, the crap that she and her fellow Mutants was given was as she described it to the newcomer before, grey goop.

“So how hard is it to get out of this place?” Speaking of the newcomer.... Boy, he was awfully idealistic to be considering escape this soon. Isaia kept her gaze level with the door she’d been staring at since Dr. Sterling had left, saying nothing. She knew well enough that she didn’t have to, because within about half a minute of the question, Isaia heard the telltale crash of a tray hitting another surface.

Isaia listened to both the heavily-accented girl and Darin snark in response to the question posed by the newcomer, although, Darin’s response bordered along the lines of bragging about the fact that he almost got out.... She knew better than both of them that escape was a pipedream. Isaia had been here longer than most anyone else at this point; it’d been her first, then Darin, and so on till the newcomer ended up in here with them today. And regardless of how long she’d been contained within the Facility, she’d never actually attempted an escape from it because she was intelligent enough to realize how ridiculously low her chances of it were. Rolling her eyes, Isaia stood up very quickly while ignoring the sudden pang of dizziness that set in on her for doing so.

“Lemme tell you something ‘bout this place, New Guy! I’ve been here for, I dunno, probably, like, a year now? Unless a damn miracle happens or the most unlikely thing ever occurs, we’re here for good! Sucks, I know.” Isaia called out, no hint of snark or sarcasm in her voice. “Get used to monotony, because that’s your new life.” She turned on her heel, eyes falling onto her designated goop tray.

“Yum, goop....” she mumbled to herself. What she wouldn’t give for something with flavor—even cherry-flavored cough syrup would be nice by this point. As foul as that horrid, red liquid was, at least it had a taste. Plopping herself down on her hard chair, Isaia picked up the plastic spork that was provided with and began to poke idly at the grey goo in front of her whilst pursing her lips. “Ain’t it weird that this place still uses sporks? Before I got dragged here, I swear, it’d been, like, a decade since I’d seen anywhere use them. Must of gotten them in bulk, or something.”

After a minute of attempting to sculpt…something out of the goop, Isaia let her spork rest in it, bored, and unwilling to eat it. She sipped on the water, at least, as she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes fell back onto her tray, and her eyes narrowed, yep, she really didn’t want any part of that goop right now. Blowing a raspberry at it, Isaia set her water back onto her table before she made a motion to shove the tray away from her. Only...that wasn’t exactly what happened.

It felt like someone took the breath out of her lungs, while a surge of electricity shot through her and escaped through her left hand. Something, some sort of force? Isaia felt it as it blew her tray and water glass off the table, and sent them both flying across her cell until they hit the steel bars, both the goop and water splattering into the corridor while both tray and glass clattered onto the floor. Isaia’s chair had been scooted back a bit by the force she’d projected too. Stunned, the telekinetic stared ahead of her blankly, at the mess she’d made. She...had made that, hadn’t she? That’d been her doing? Had her telekinesis actually just shown itself in some way other than making her float?

Her heart fluttered, and a shiver ran through her as she couldn’t help the smile that slipped over her lips. Something awoke in her, as she clenched her left hand into a fist and her eyes lit up brightly, maybe she actually did have a hope now...? The staff wasn’t prepared for this, prepared for what she just did, although they’d be on her like locusts now, she knew that. But she couldn’t help the triumphant feeling that swelled within her chest.

“Oh, hell YES!” she shouted, standing up and raising her fist above her head. “Guess whose telekinesis actually works now?! Ha!”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by Zalgo
Others were speaking, that much was known.

What about? She couldn't tell. Their conversations seemed to jump around from topic to topic. The voices were coming in through the walls, hampered only to the extent where the pain wasn't making her feel each individual tooth in her mouth ache. Given she could see sound the room around looked a bit like a bubble, what with the visual distortions she knew as sound coming through them. The outside of her cell looked like a river, guards walking through the chaotic flow of sound as though it weren't even there. To them it seemingly wasn't.


A tray had come through a slot in the door. Her slot was different from the others. It was designed to function like an airlock but instead of air it keeps sound out by insuring there was always a door between her and the outside. The tray had some form of greyish goo on it. Was it food? It did not look like food. Pain was not very good at whetting an appetite. What hunger she might of had was not anywhere in her concerns. She left the tray to sit, not taking a single bite of whatever it was.

Footsteps approached the door. Guards, at least four of them were standing directly in front of her door. When she looked up she could confirm that fact though it wasn't really necessary. Four hearts beating were enough evidence for her.


A key slid into the lock of her door. Immediately her heart sank as she realized what they were going to do. They were taking her out of her cell. This space which offered such respite from the wages of noise that was the world beyond, they were going to take it from her. Though imperfect it was still a better place than any she had known since her mind opened. She would of objected but any sound she could of made would of only caused her greater suffering. As it was the door opened and in spilt the sound, overwhelming her as it flooded her cell.

There was no use crying, no help in screaming. She had already worn her cords out just on the way in. All she could do is shiver with pain as the men lifted her up to her feet by her arms. Her teeth felt as though they would crack under the intensity with which she held them clenched.


Voices louder than jet engines all around, footsteps like bombshells going off and on all sides of her the sounds of flesh sloshing about as though she were in the belly of some unfathomably large beast. She was practically carried through the halls on her way past the other subject's cells just as many more guards were filling into the hall in regards to the telekinetic mutant's display.

Down the hall past numerous turns she was taken through the facility. Eventually she was brought before a large metal door. This was a room prepared especially for her by Dr. Ritter, the one who'd taken her as his project. This wasn't unusual as different mutations often called for different fields of scientific expertise.


They brought her into the chamber and sat her down on a special chair. This room had been rebuilt into an anechoic chamber. The surface they used to walk in on was a metallic grid designed to provide a stable surface to stand on while not providing too much material for sound to reflect off of. The triangular foam wedges which lined the walls, floor and roof of the chamber were designed to absorb as much sound as possible. When sealed the room would be quieter than even her cell, so quiet in fact it would be unbearable for most living beings.

They strapped her arms, legs and neck down so she was unable to move in what looked to be some strange permutation of a dentist's chair. Above the chair attached to the ceiling by a mechanical limb all hooked up with wires was a strange sort of helmet. It sort of looked like a slick, black baseball helmet however with the numerous devices all built into it's structure the differences far outnumbered it's similarities. This helmet was designed to monitor brain signals via electromagnetic scanners. Besides the chair were two large speakers mounted on stands next to the head of the chair. They were both lined up directly with Olivia's ears. On the corner of the grid platform was a desk complete with a chair and computer set up.


Once secure the guards left the room, sealing it behind them. The door was locked not with one key but with two, one held by a guard and one held by Dr. Ritter himself. This setup was specifically requested by the fine doctor himself. With two keys the only way for the door to be opened was for both Ritter and a guard to use their keys. The door could be opened with one key inside and one key outside or with two keys either inside or outside but under no circumstances would the door open to only one key. There was an intercom on the reinforced walls of the chamber so that Dr. Ritter could speak directly to security if needed. Both the door and the walls of the testing chamber were reinforced to withstand any multitude of the more formidable mutant powers that could manifest. From fire to electricity and especially raw physical force, little would be able to disrupt this pocket of the facility. It was practically a bunker in it's own right.

Olivia did not care about the straps nor the strange instruments nor even the absurd amount of security set for this room. To her the very moment the door shut it was close to nirvana. Almost perfect, very nearly. There was still some sound however. The sounds outside like distant mountains on the horizon were still there however they held little presence in the immediate space. At this instant the loudest thing around was the sound of her own heart beating, well, at least until the doctor started to speak.


"Hello Olivia. You might remember me, you might not. I am Doctor Joseph Ritter, a very famous scientist. I help a lot of people all over the world and now I will help you. Isn't that just spectacular?"

The doctor had the face of a kindly old man, mildly reminiscent of Colonel Sanders. The rough similarity wasn't lost on Olivia though her mind wasn't exactly focused on drawing similarities with famous faces. The voice was causing her waves of agony with each syllable he uttered. With a pained expression she opened her mouth to answer back but all that came of it was a squashed croak. The moment she tried to utter any form of sound produced far more pain than even he caused her thus far as the sound of her own voice had a closer reach to her brain. The best she could manage in this state was a pathetic groan.

Despite her suffering he simple smiled wider, bemused by her attempt at communication.


"You do not need to answer me, I already know the answer. Now please relax as I prepare to examine you."

With that said Dr. Ritter went around the chair and placed the helm upon Olivia's head. She was unable to do anything other than simply stare ahead as the doctor went back around his table and sat before his computer. Hitting a number of keys Dr. Ritter activated the scanner.

"Activating control group scan recordings."


With that said Olivia could hear the harsh buzzing of electricity in the helmet fastened snugly to her head. There was no other noise save for that and the natural bodily functions of them both as the machine took photos of the magnetic signals in her brain. On the screen the program painted a bioelectric model of her brain. This process continued for a short while. Afterwards she was left to sit there while the doctor recorded the state of her brain. He also took the time to analyse differences between her brain and a regular brain model. Already he was seeing some interesting results. The measures he had taken paid off quite well as he was already ahead of most of his colleagues within the facility in terms of understanding their assigned subject.

While taking blood and running DNA analysis had it's uses it was already plain to see that each mutant was quite different from each other. He knew that simply taking blood while providing a piece of the puzzle was a rather inaccurate method as it wasn't taking into account the effects of the mutation itself. He figured if he could locate the section of the brain that has developed as a result of the genetic alteration he could take a sample of DNA which would possess a very clear root in the transformation. While others were looking for what made each mutant the same he was looking for what made each mutant different.


With a content sigh as he finished the last data entry he leaned back in his chair and looked over to Olivia.

"Time to measure the variables."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by WilPen

Conversations about leaving the Facility were new to Thirteen. Even before she had been put in solitary, she was only around other children that were born into this world. That isn't to say they didn't fantasize about escape, but no one was aware there was anything more to the universe. When the young Thirteen was allowed her first book about far off places, the other children assumed the stories were as true as those about dragons or dinosaurs. She had always held hope in the form of a page torn from the book.

Wrinkled and torn after years of folding and unfolding, it was the only thing that Thirteen had kept in her possession over the years. Kept either under her bed or hidden in her uniform, it was always close to her heart. The picture had faded to the point of nonrecognition, her fingers had traced over the lines in the sky too many times. However, the text at the bottom was able to be made out if she squinted and looked very hard. Aurora Borealis, it read. That was where she wanted to go.

Thirteen spoke her own words for the first time since arriving in her new cell, “If you've been here a year, that means you've been outside. You know what it looks like out there.” Her voice was childish, the closest to her old voice that she had managed so far. It might have been odd for the new comer to have seen a little girl's voice come from his own mouth, but it didn't bother her in the least.

Curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “What does it look like?”

Mitch had told her it was a beautiful valley full of fog and wonderful creatures. Other guards she asked said it was an arid desert with no sign of life within 1000 miles. The books she read had so many different places in them, all beautiful, but Thirteen had a hard time believing the world could be so big to hold all of them.

And then there was this girl. She'd been out there and actually seen it. From what she said, all of these people had. Then it finally clicked in Thirteen's brain that all her neighbors had been outside. The constant complaints and the rhythmic pounding that had filled her day suddenly made sense. Though she didn't really know who they were, she still felt for them and what they might have lost.

If Thirteen was being honest, she was aware life in Facility was a little...lacking. She had only ever seen blue once in her life. The stark white that surrounded them constantly had a bit of a maddening affect on occasion. The grey of her uniform and the black of the guards' broke up the monotony, but not by much. Even when growing up, they were only allowed shades of grey for their art times. Sure, the children learned about colors in the classes they had but the teachers could only describe them as 'too much color could affect the students in a negative way'. At least, that was the answer given when it was questioned.

The variety of colors came from the students themselves, most of them were unique in skin and hair color. Though if someone was too different they often wouldn't be back the next day.

Thirteen heard the timed footfalls of a group of guards. Fear caused shiver down her spine, but they stopped before getting to her castle. She had been worried that they were going to take her back to her old cell. Not aware of who they took, she only hoped they would be alright. Testing wasn't something she thought about. She couldn't.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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Val sat back, shoving bite after bite of the tasteless grey slop into his mouth. He knew that soon, hopefully very soon, he would be needed his strength. No use in using his abilities to their fullest extend if it just meant he would collapse soon after. While listening to the others he had studied the lock on his cage. It looked fairly standard issue, the type of set up you'd see on any jail cell, and he'd been able to get out of those before with plenty of ease. All it took was a little of his blood, and so long as he kept his strength up, his body would produce plenty of the red stuff when the time came.

The reaction to his question was obviously mixed. The man with the piercings, who was across the hall and a cell over to Valko's left, claimed he had nearly escaped, nearly melted through the steel emergency doors. Maybe, given a little cover, he could get all the way through this time. This train of thought was interrupted by a shout from down the hall. Although he could not see her, he guessed from the direction that it was the floating girl who had just gotten through making a racket with her tray. Based on what he had seen of her, and what he had seen in the past, he thought she might be a telekinetic, able to move things with her mind. If that was true, she could be very helpful during the escape. And despite her words, she did indeed sound like she wanted out.

That mean there was a pyro and a psychic, and a mimic. Across the hall from Val sat, well, Val, but when the other him spoke, it was with a childish, female voice. Maybe they were female, maybe not. He had no way of telling. And judging by the sounds coming from the cell of the woman who'd had the thick accent, she must have some sort of improved strength. The only mutation he had yet to determine was that of the quiet girl he had passed on his way in. And as if on cue, he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Moving over to his cell he pokes his head out as much as he can and watches as several men take the quiet girl away.

"They'll be coming for you soon, if your power really has just improved." Val shouts down the hall towards the cell of the floating girl. "That means we'll have to act quick for this to work. Whether you come with me or not, be ready, because this is going to become a bloody shit show real quick in just a few minutes."

With that said Val steps back and grabs his right index finger with his left hand. As he pulls his finger away, a thin spike of iron is left in his other hand. A drop of his blood falls to the floor, but then the hole in his finger is gone. Moving to the lock of his cell, Val reaches around and rams the spike into the lock before pressing his finger against it and creating another, larger spike, that is driven directly into the mechanisms. After a moment of moving his finger about there is a click and he pulls away, leaving behind another drop of blood. Just as he begins to open his cell door, the door at the end of the hallway open up, and as he steps out into the hall Valko finds himself facing down four guards, a woman in a white lab coat, and some guy in a uniform similar to that of the other soldiers, but with short sleeves, white hair and...glowing red eyes.

"Shit..." Val calls, able to tell the man is a mutant even this far away. "Didn't think they employed our kind on the inside."

"Stay where you are Subject Forty Seven!" One of the soldiers calls. "Return to your cell at once!"

Val pretends to think for a moment, then he brings both arms up across his chest. Slinging them down he produces two iron spikes from his wrists, each about a foot long. As a few drops of blood hit the floor, he looks a bit paler, but he smiles at the men and shakes his head. "Sorry, but I can't do that. I have places to go, people to see." And with that he rushes down the hall.

The soldiers open fire, but they aim for none vital areas. The arms and legs, shoulders. One bullet grazes Val's ribs on the left side, another puts a hole right through his right hand. Ignoring these wounds, acting as if he can't even feel them, he makes his way over to the cell of the pierced man and slams one of the spikes into the electronic lock. There is a popping sound and some smoke, and a moment later the door of the cell unlocks and Val pulls it open to shield himself from some of the bullets.

"Think you can really melt through that door?" Val shouts at the man over the sound of gunfire, pulling the spike from the lock and tossing it to the man.

-=-

"What the hell were they thinking, putting a freak like him in such a simple cage?" Richard asks, a quiet fury in his voice. He doesn't carry an automatic rifle like the other soldiers, but his pistol is out and raised at Subject Forty Seven. "Are the fools running this place really getting that sloppy?"

Taking careful aim, he fires a single round from his pistol. It hits its mark, taking Val in the left ankle and bringing him down to a knee behind the door he's using as a shield.

He can regenerate, don't be afraid to do more damage. He says mentally to his companions. When he uses that ability he bleeds, therefore the more blood he loses, the worse off he will be. Richard has seen similar abilities before, though their owners were usually more obvious, using their 'natural' weapons to strike out at every opportunity. Move forward, I still have a job to do.

The soldiers ease forward a bit, and again, until Richard is standing outside of the cell of the floating girl. Turning to look into the cell at her, Richard smiles, and his eyes glow a bit more brightly as he activates his ability. In a moment a helmet of golden light will appear over her head and her telekinesis will be rendered useless until he takes it off...or is rendered unconscious.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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Her heart skipped a beat as she brought her fisted hand down to her chest. For the first time in what was probably over a year, Isaia honestly found herself without words, though she was intelligent and rational enough to know that escape from the Facility was the pipedream of a fevered madman, she couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling in her heart at the moment, nor could she help the shaky breath of air she took in. Seeing her apparent telekinesis actually do something besides make her levitate actually made her actually feel...hopeful. As stupid as it was to BE hopeful in her situation. Maybe on top of her snark and terrible sense of humor, she was actually an optimist. Wouldn’t that figure? For all and everything she’d been through in the last some odd months of her life, her, an optimist! Maybe there was a tiny, itty-bitty hope of escape if she could actually do something now.

Isaia’s glowing, yellow eyes traveled up to the camera in the corner of her cell, and she gazed at it for a moment as she began to glower at it. Her heart skipped a beat, a sense of defiance and determination overtook her. She could...they all could escape. They could do it. But it’d have to be now. The Facility was always watching, they knew that her telekinesis had spontaneously evolved with no warning. Isaia knew what that meant, she’d seen it befall others before; others whose fate she unaware. The staff was going to swarm her at any moment now, and she was going to be extracted from her familiar, basic cell; then taken in for more tests and promptly moved to a specialized cell, like those Darin and the others were placed in. She would be put somewhere that her powers would be rendered utterly useless.

It’s gotta be now. she reaffirmed to herself, looking down at her left hand.

When it was that she heard a group of heavy footsteps enter the corridor, Isaia’s head shot up, and she flinched—the staff acted with the most haste but normally they didn’t seem to organize so quickly. Had they come for her—no, they walked past her cell, to another. They were already on their way down to take another of the prisoners. She watched the guards walk back on by hurriedly, a small, dark-haired girl in tow. She looked so young, Isaia recalled seeing her only once, when she was brought in, and taken into her cell. Isaia knew nothing of her, not her name, not her age, nor her mutation. The only thing Isaia knew was that she felt sympathy for her, that was all.... She looked younger than herself; she might’ve actually been the youngest mutant in the corridor. So young, and stuck in this monochrome Hell. Maybe, if they could actually get out, then something could be done to help her...?

A childish voice though, derailed Isaia’s train of thought. “If you’ve been here a year, that means you’ve been outside. You know what it looks like out there.” That was a voice Isaia did not know or at all recognize, she had seen the guards bring in another figure before the newcomer earlier, but she hadn’t been able to get a good look at them through all the staff surrounding them—by the voice though, Isaia could only figure that the person was a young girl? “What does it look like?” the question made Isaia freeze. Did this girl not know? Had she been in the Facility for so long that she had no memory of the world beyond?

How many people were taken here at such a young age that they had no knowledge of the outside world? The thought of that made Isaia feel physically sick—she’d only been in here perhaps over a year at most, but there were people who were here for SO much longer, so long that their whole lives were lived within the walls of the Facility then. Isaia had no time to give the girl an answer before she heard the New Guy call out from his cage down the way, “They’ll be coming for you soon, if you power has really just improved. That means we’ll have to act quick for this to work. Whether you come with me or not, be ready, because this is going to become a bloody shit shoe real quick in just a few minutes.”

So, the guy had an escape plan then did he? Well, at least Isaia wasn’t going to be in this alone. But she had to wonder exactly what the guy was going to do—she had no idea what his mutation was, she was aware that Darin was a pyro and the girl who threw understandable tantrums seemed to have some sort of super strength.... This...this was going to be quite an event, and she’d best steel herself for whatever was going to go down. Isaia pressed moved forward, and pressed herself up against the bars of her cell, those that weren’t covered in goop and water from her earlier display, as through the eerie quiet of the corridor she heard a soft clinking. Was New Guy picking the lock of his cell? And if he was, with what?

Just as soon as she heard his cell door open though, the doors at the end of the corridor opened too, Isaia seethed and her head whipped over in its direction, they were here for her, their arrival timely as ever. Among the group was Milton, Dr. Sterling, several other guards that Isaia didn’t know the names of and...shit, Richard. For as long as Isaia had been in the Facility, she knew him, how couldn’t she? He was a Mutant too, but, he worked for the Facility, he helped them track and catch Mutants, like herself. She’d heard rumors that he could suppress the powers of a psychic...like her. “Shit.... Didn’t think they employed our kind on the inside.”

Stay where you are Subject Forty-Seven! Return to your cell at once!” one of the guards called out. New Guy was out, and of course the guards just HAD to show up right when he got out of his cell. Isaia’s thoughts rushed, if Richard was here, she wasn’t going to be a lot of use for long, if she wanted to be able to do anything, if she wanted to actually be able to escape from this hellhole now she had to do something ASAP.

“Sorry, but I can’t do that. I have places to go, people to see.” the New Guy rushed down the hall, toward Darin’s cell. There was gunfire, but Isaia heard something pop, and the sound of another door opening while something was said to Darin that Isaia couldn’t make out over the sound of the gunfire.

Richard said something too, directed at the other guards, Dr. Sterling had been moved from the situation as to not have her caught in the crossfire. As the soldiers moved forward a bit, until Richard was right at her door, staring at her. Isaia moved back, not desiring proximity to this man. He was going to...wasn’t he? Isaia bit her life, she knew what he was going to do to her. Richard actually bothered to smile at her, as his eyes glowed just like hers did; he was using his powers to block her own. Isaia didn’t know if it his ability would enact immediately, or if she had time. Whether if she did or not, she had to try, didn’t she? As resigned to her fate as she’d been just before, she was now just as determined to be free again. Amazing how her mentality could flip-flop so quickly, really, but then, she’d always been like that, snark or not.

Isaia growled, glaring defiantly at Richard as her body tensed, and her eyes glowed fiercely. No, she wasn’t going to back down now. The New Guy was as determined as she was, wasn’t he? He was taking bullets to get the hell out of here. Richard’s suppression wasn’t affecting her, yet. She still had time, a chance to make him stop. Something in her snapped; a quiet rage that had maybe been in her for the last year or more, at the Facility and its staff for bring ruin to her life. Anger hit her, hard, and her body began to quake with it as that overwhelming sense from before, from when she’d used her telekinesis to fling her tray, came bubbling forth stronger. With an almost demonic snarl and yell coming from her, Isaia acted upon her instinctual fury, and projected all the energy she felt in her at her cell door, what Richard was standing in front of.

He was still smiling, that smile just made her that much more...angry. Letting out another loud scream, Isaia unleashed another psionic barrage upon her cell door, and heard a metallic creak from it, a sound that caused Richard to lose the smile on his face, and made his eyes dim a bit.

Apparently, he wasn’t expecting her to be able to be capable of anything too much. “Get the HELL out of my way!!” Isaia roared, angry tears slipping from her eyes as she directed another wave of energy at her door, and with it, did Richard move to the side, as Isaia’s cell door gave out, its middle bulging outward as if it had been punched. Both the lock and the hinges on the door groaned in protest, just before they snapped and the door flew forward with incredible force, taking with it one of the nameless guards firing on the New Guy and Darin, smashing into bars of the cell across from Isaia. Said guard was sandwiched between them, either unconscious or even dead from the force he was hit with.

Isaia’s heart was beating erratically, and she was entirely consumed by the need to escape and pure anger. She wasn’t going to back down now, even if Richard was there, even if she could be suppressed.... “I’m so fucking done with this place, I’m so fucking DONE!” she screamed, bolting out of her cell, eyes glowing as bright as the sun as pure anger fueled her telekinesis. “New Guy, Darin, hurry the hell UP and get us out of here!!”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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Kora had sat down for a moment, the spur of movement making her dizzy. She'd had little enough to eat recently that it was not much of a surprise, as she'd still not really had enough to refuel after the fight that had ended in he capture...the fight that was the source of a number of stitches still evident on her ribs and back.

Her mood was not greatly improved by one of her neighbours' attempts at point-scoring by bragging about some kind of escape attempt.
"The fact that your first instinct on talking about escaping is to try and start some pointless pissing contest about who is better at FAILING TO ESCAPE says a lot about why you're still here!"

If there was one thing that pissed her off more than the intolerance that led humans to treat them like toys to be played with, it was mutant ego.

"You tried to get away, didn't try at all to help anybody else, ran into something you could not handle, and paid for it. If you were just going to take off and leave everyone else in this hole I have zero sympathy for you! Do you think this is a fucking game?! People are DYING you arrogant- " Kora's accusation was cut off mid-flow by the sudden clattering of metal on tiles.

She hopped up and peered around the splatter of grey sludge on the cell frontage to see the spilled tray now well clear of its intended home, and frowned..possibly more than a little envious that the security of her own cell didn't allow her to get that kind of mileage with her own trays.

"Congratulations. Now they're going to be way more interested in you." she remarked grimly, before pacing back on her previous route.
"Which is not a good thing."

She'd not long gotten back to her walking when absolutely all hell had broken loose. Kor found herself pressed up against the grass, watching in frustration as the fighting broke out, and angered by the first escapee addressing that egotistical pyro of all people. The scandinavian mutant banged on the glass with her fists, shouting.
"Don't fucking leave me here!"

The anger she felt at her remaining trapped was only brought to a head when the telekinetic busted out, and immediately encouraged the new guy and pyro to...leave?! Now?! With so many people still trapped, including herself?!

Someone gains powers and suddenly they're only too happy to leave people behind to die in some whitewashed hellscape?!

At that point, something snapped. Her patience was expired.

Kora's hands dropped to her side, her face to the floor. Her teeth were gritted into a snarl.


"This is why we're getting destroyed."

Her breath billowed from her mouth and nose as white steam.

"This is why our kind is going to be hunted to extinction."

The skin of her arms started to crack and red-gold light bloomed from within the berserker's body.

"Because-"

Boom.

The projection was like a bomb going off. A roar of heat and pressure and the deafening crack of fracturing concrete. Pipes collapsed from the ceiling and cables dropped loose. The smooth floor tore up into shrapnel and the steel that anchored the transparent frontage was torn off its moorings and swung wildly to one side.

The berserker stood still amid all this chaos like the eye of a great red storm, the irises of her eyes alight like hot coals, and streams of blood seeping down her cheeks. Her red hair billowed out in the waves of heat rising from her body. The battered jumpsuit had been near immediately incinerated up to its elbows as her hands now seemed to glow with jagged fissures of searing light that charred and blistered the skin round it like a molten mantle.

The cell and the section of hallway that passed between it and the opposite cell was left a scorched and mangled mess, and some of the ceiling above was beginning to bend in front the upper floor, support beams exposed and warped by superheated air.

Any sensible estimate would have granted that after this long, Kora would not have been able to summon up the energy to engage full berserker again.


Any sensible estimate.

Berserkrgang transcended any sensible calculation. Any concern for the ultimate wellbeing of the user.
Berserk was all about destruction, and it had showed itself to be very suited for the task.

A voice spoke out, bestial and grinding like iron on stone, seeming to warp and flare like the billowing heat, as the monstrous apparition stepped out of its bonds, each step of her shoeless feet bubbling and blackening the floor.

"..because we are WEAK."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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#, as written by WilPen

Thirteen strained to see what was happening in the hall, but her head [rather the newbie's head] just couldn't fit through the bars. Her curiosity had been piqued when the newcomer grew spikes out of his body. He had left his cell without anyone letting him out, something she had never seen before. Unfortunately, he didn't waste any time on taking off down the hall and out of her field of vision.

Torn between the idea of seeing the outside with her own eyes and the potential of failure kept her rooted to the spot. If they succeeded in leaving the facility, Thirteen may be disappointed on what she found. If they failed, it was likely she'd lose her castle if not her life. The banging and shouting going on down the hall grew too hard to resist.

Thirteen gripped the bars with all her might. Of course they didn't budge, she wasn't that strong. She squeezed her eyes closed and scrunched her nose while mentally chanting, 'Smaller. Think smaller.' It was much easier for her to transform into things she could see in front of her than it was to imagine them. Then again, she hadn't tried anything other than humans before.

An odd sensation took over Thirteen's skin for only a second. Her body felt like it was imploding in slow motion. It was a similar feeling from when she'd change to a shorter human's form, but much more intense. Her skin exploded with an irritating itch as grey fur sprouted over her form. Whiskers emerged from her cheeks and claws from between where her fingers used to be. Though the process felt like it had taken a lifetime it had been nearly instantaneous.

The grey tabby that stood in Thirteen's room quickly slunk through the bars. The scientists didn't seem to be as prepared as she thought if coming and going was as easy as this. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't so easy. She could now clearly see the cause of all the pandemonium that caught her attention. Nearly everyone else had left their rooms and a group of guards were already firing.

It took all she had to avoid transforming into the first guard that came into her line of sight. Old habits. Thirteen quickly realized that being small meant she was harder to hit and that would be preferable. Using her new catlike agility, she sprinted to the open cell next door. The newcomer used the door as cover from the fire and Thirteen used him as a springboard to get over the door.

From above, she watched as another cell door was blasted off it's hinges taking a guard with it. Seeing her opportunity, Thirteen slid between the wall and the door, taking the form of the bloodied guard. His neck was bent in a way that Thirteen had never seen before and it didn't look healthy. Grabbing his gun and badge before crawling out from behind the door, she made sure to give the girl with glowing eyes a salute before turning her gun towards the other mutants. With no intention of firing, she only hoped the others wouldn't turn on her as her armor was fake.

Thirteen backed slowly towards the door at the end of the hall keeping her eyes on the facility dwellers and guards alike. She wasn't sure what to do now. Sure, she knew where the door to the outside was. Security wasn't that great when she was a child, but she wasn't sure how to get through it on her own now. Then she didn't want to leave the others behind to face the music of an attempted escape. So, she stood in the corner next to the door, sweaty hands furiously gripping a weapon she didn't know how to use.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valko Armistead Character Portrait: Thirteen Character Portrait: Olivia Babbage Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Darin Sochatchov Character Portrait: Isaia Lorelei

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"Now the party's getting started." Val says, wincing a bit as he steps away from the doorway to Darin's cell, dragging the door itself with him like a shield to protect himself from the flames. Once he heard the flames die down and the arsonist speaking he let the door drop to the floor so he could take stock of everything around him once again. It looked as if all but two of the soldiers were burnt rather crispy, with the two remaining being a blonde man with glowing eyes who looked quite angry, and another guard cowering in the furthest corner, near the door they needed to go through. It looked as if the blonde man had used one of his fellow soldiers as a shield.

From what he could tell, all of the cells along this hallway were empty now. Near the end of the hall with the dead soldiers stood the psychic girl, closer was the...well, the only work Val could think of to describe the one whose feet were burning the floor was berserker. The word stood out in his mind for some reason when he looked at her. Darin the arsonist was the closest to Val, and so he supposed that the cowering soldier must be the shapeshifter girl. Val then took a moment to look himself over. He'd been shot a handful of times, but already the wounds were healing. The blood had stopped flowing, but the holes in his left ankle, right thigh, right shoulder and left hand still looked like open wounds because his kind of healing started from the inside out. A shot which had grazed his left side along the ribs was nearly healed already because it was so shallow. Within the hour these wounds would be healed, but he was sure there would be more.

"Whatever you say hothead." Val says as he begins to walk past Darin. From the hole in his left hand what looks to be a black spike begins to grow until it reaches about a foot in length. Val takes it with his right hand and holds it like one might a dagger as he makes his way down the hall. "I don't care how we do it, I just want to get out of this place. I'd like to burn the entire facility down, but today, just escaping will do. Now-" His words are cut off when the blonde man grabs the cowering soldier from the corner and pulls him close, pressing a pistol to their head. "Shit. I was hoping you wouldn't notice her for a little while."

-=-=-

Somewhere much deeper in the facility...

The power Zeke had been storing seemed to burn inside of him now, and he didn't think he could hold it in much longer. He'd been in this hellhole for a while but never tried to escape. He'd cooperated with the scientists and soldiers, had been given permission to walk about some parts of the facility unescorted as long as he wore that damned collar around his neck, the one that fed off his energy and fed it to the machines in the facility. He'd become a walking battery.

What the scientists had failed to notice, however, was that the energy levels the collar was soaking up had dropped slightly after it had been locked around his neck for some time. This was because Zeke had tampered with it. The collar took in a steady flow of his energy, but it was just a trickle compared to what he could produce. And on top of that, he had been hiding his potential, only showing off the more mild side of his abilities. They didn't have a clue what he could really do.

Passing by several cells, each holding a powerful mutant like himself, restrained in some manner, an alarm begins to go off.

Soldiers file past Zeke, shouting for him to return to his cell. They didn't say why, but he knew. He knew all of the alarms in this place, and this particular one only sounded during an escape attempt. This made him smile. "No, Officer Bob, I think I'll continue my walk, maybe head outside and take in some fresh air for a change." The soldier he'd addressed stopped and raised his rifle, but before he could fire there was an explosion of energy that ripped through the facility. Bullets exploded in their guns, electronic locks opened, lights exploded into showers of glass shards. Suddenly 90% of the mutants in the facility were free, and although some of them decided to stick around to take out their frustrations on the guards, most of them fled.

-=-=-

The equipment that Dr. Ritter had been using suddenly begins to hum with energy before smoke begins to pour out of speakers and the monitors begin to explode all around him. Soon everything electronic in the room is friend, leaving the lab in the silent darkness. Any electric locks or restraints release.

-=-=-

When the lights went out all around him and he could hear the clinks as the cell doors opened on their own, Richard knew he was screwed, and that faced with such odds, retreat was the only option really. He had a hostage, and the new subject at least seemed to have backed off. If nothing else Thirteen could be used as a shield. With one arm around her neck and the other pressing his pistol to her head he backs up, pushes against the door, which swings open easily.

"Stay where you are freaks, and no one gets hurt." Richard says, taking a step back. "Follow me and the girl dies. Just return to your cells and calm down, once this incident has passed you will all- FUCK!"

There was a whistling sound as something flew through the air towards him, and then suddenly pain bloomed in his left eye. In the darkness he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had an idea. Removing the gun he shoves Thirteen to the ground before him before firing a shot into the darkened hall at where he had last seen the new subject. With that he turns and takes off at full speed down the hallway towards the safe room at the heart of the Facility. As he runs he reaches up and finds a shard of what feels like metal where his eye used to be. With a wet popping sound he pulls it and what remains of his left eye free and tosses them to the floor.