"By the way, who thought it was a good idea to give the blind girl a drink?"
"Hey, Dana can do whatever she likes," Mia answered back as she followed the trio towards the stairs. "She's a big girl." The gin bottle remained in her hand, a glass security blanket as she moved toward the stairs with the rest of the group. It only looked like it could fit one person at a time, which was to the blind girl's benefit, seeing as she couldn't fall in a narrow space.
As well as Mia's. Six months of sobriety had destroyed her tolerance and the gin was hitting her quicker than she remembered. At least I beat that stupid cocktail to the punch. I can make myself barf, thanks. She used the walls to steady herself until the railing appeared. The four of them descended to the bottom of the staircase and the makeshift lab that had been created within. In her current state, the Jersey girl couldn't help but shiver a little. Casino backrooms could be creepy at times, but they had nothing on this cacophonous collection of scientific fantasies and ...stuff.
Otto followed the rest down the stairs with a grumble, something to the tune of "No point putting this off."
"By the way, who thought it was a good idea to give the blind girl a drink?"
I wonder what effect alcohol will have on the cocktail. Otto kept that thought to himself, rather than express himself and add to his burgeoning goody two shoes reputation. He stopped just behind Mia and took in the scene of Joseph's lab. It was like someone had taken the worst case scenario that he had imagined and given it form. Test tubes, jars of preserved animals and organs, glass flasks, spirals, and vials. He exchanged a glance with Mia, just long enough to tell the difference between drunken nausea and shocked nausea. On thing he did notice is that it was, clean, in a matter of speaking. Sure it wouldn't pass a hospital health inspection but he noticed fresh needles, IV's and scalpels properly tucked away, along with the scent of powerful disinfectant with orange. He looked to Joseph, or rather in Joseph's direction, there was something about the extraterrestrial that stopped him from making proper eye contact. "So, let's do this?" He was finding there was a lot more doubt in his voice than he expected, the idea of being filled with a mysterious fluid concocted by a mad alien scientist was starting to seem even more daunting than he anticipated.
Ryan stayed outside for a long time, looking at the forest and the sky and his own hands. Hasty winds out of the West tore at the cloud cover overhead as the minutes passed, bathing the courtyard in occasional swaths of sunlight a little behind the bursts of breeze that lifted hair into his face and rustled the pine needles. When the wind died down the sound of people talking in the bar could be heard through the open front door behind him.
Eventually there was a raised voice, and the conversation seemed to stop. Ryan turned an ear towards the door and listened for a minute before finally getting to his feet and returning inside.
Everyone was pushing back their bar stools and heading for the basement door. Apparently the time for treatment had come. Ryan looked back into the common room; the Matron was still fast asleep, snoring gently. As the old man turned and began to make his way towards the basement he massaged his left arm absentmindedly, as if checking it for faults. On his way past the bar he peered over it and saw Henry there, hunched in a near fetal position and drumming the back of his head. Ryan stared at him for a few moments, his expression strained.
Ryan stopped at the top of the stairs and produced a handkerchief from his pocket, which he held over his mouth and nose as he slowly descended behind the others.
"How does that Voyager move around in here-?" Justin mouthed as he visually scanned the big bug's dank laboratory. The stench wafting through the air jerked him from the laundry list of queries forming in his head, like a sinister amalgamation of every type of dead thing congregated within the confines of that horrible room. Maliciously invading his nostrils, Justin couldn't help but produce a loud, painful dry heave from beyond his lips. Despite the theatrics, he failed to produce any vomit. Made him a little glad he didn't drink before entering the basement, as he definitely would've puked all down that blind girl's back.
"This can't be sanitary..." He mumbled and coughed as he straightened his stature. His eyes drifted towards the flame of the open incinerator, only to quickly look away as he noticed the pile of corpses directly near it. "Jesus dude-" Despite his horror, his curious subconscious caused him to meander further into the room. The Voyager was far closer than Justin thought; he could quickly spot the alien across the room. Alongside that one other guy from earlier, who had looked like he started early.
"Hey!" He called for the black-suited extraterrestrial, hoping to gain his attention. "Your name's Josef, right? Can we get this treatment thing over with?! Please put me under before the smell does!" The fumes were so loud, he felt it best to yell over it.
To be afraid of death was only human. Even with their powers that's all they were. Death would come to them just as it would come for any other woman or man. So why were we so afraid of it? It didn't make sense. And yet Enrique felt that fear as much as any other person.
Cold wind, no fire; cries, the wails of the damned so loud he couldn't sleep. His heat running low, there was only so many times he could cycle the heat and pull the cold. There was nothing, nothing but the snow to keep them warm. No one cares. The cold, no food, drink the snow, melt it for your friends Enrique. The wails persisted.
They were all headed for the basement. It seemed that Henry's little speech had inspired them all. Or maybe getting them a little tipsy first was all it took. The cure for their incoming death awaited them. Death would still come at some point, but maybe human fear was just about keeping it at bay as long as possible.
cops kicking their forts down, their 'homes' and giving them nothing in return. Soup kitchens banned from serving and shuttering up. American dream has been made.
He plodded down the stairs behind them, the tequila was buzzing in his head. It hit him faster than it normally would. Did he check the percentage? Maybe it was the cigarettes, these weren't his brand. Someone was calling about the smell. He couldn't smell a thing. Maybe it was because he smelled as bad as his surroundings, or maybe he was so used to being filth that he couldn't recognize filth anymore.
"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't what to die, IdontwanttodieIdontwanttodieIdontwanttodieIdontwanttodieIdontwanttodieIdontwanttodie."
Mutterings of the man that would be dead tomorrow are beside him. Enrique attempts to heat the man's hands but they're already too far gone. Casualties would happen in this blizzard. The government would quietly smile as the pennies the homeless cost them would go back in the coffers. So it goes, Enrique would think, but only because it distracted him from how close he too came to the end.
"So save us," Enrique muttered, "So stop death then ye gods of life and salvation."
Josef rounded on the party assembling at the door to their isolated world. Patiently, they tapped their way over to them, every step clacking against the cold stone floor, like the well-heeled shoes of a businessman, or the jack boots of a prison camp operator. With a mechanically stern eye, they closely inspected those who had descended, looking them up and down, blue light scanning over the assembled bodies. After an awkward while, they scuttled over, seemingly satisfied, to the work desk, where they snatched up several sets of tools and IV bags. They returned to the group, the silvery liquid of the IV bags reflecting grotesquely in the light.
Code:
I WILL ASSUME YOU HAVE COME FOR THE COCKTAIL. THIS WILL HURT. MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR GODS. DO YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS.
Strongly trying not to puke again, Dana responded, after taking a place in the middle of the room, her sunglasses reflecting the blue light: "So, how will it hurt? And what do we do during the time we are sick? This place does not really seem to have many caretakers..."
Josef regarded the blind woman. Their gaze did not soften; their eyes contracted radially.
Code:
THE MIXTURE WILL BE PIPED INTO YOUR BLOODSTREAM SLOWLY. IT WILL DISPLACE ENOUGH BLOOD TO BE NOTICEABLE BUT NOT FATAL. YOU WILL FEEL FATIGUED, SHORT OF BREATH, WEAK AND HYPERSENSITIVE. YOU WILL SPEND THE TIME IT TAKES FOR AN INITIAL DOSAGE IN THIS BASEMENT, THEN I WILL CARRY YOU UPSTAIRS TO YOUR BEDS. THE HUMAN BAKING SODA VOLCANO AND HIS MOTHER WILL CARE FOR YOU IN THAT TIME.
"As long as we get our own beds..." Justin mumbled, his examination of the Voyager becoming apparent. If only briefly, his curiosity was overriding his distaste of the smell. "What?s the deal with that guy, anywho?" He addressed Josef. He could only assume the 'human volcano' in question was the gangly bartender just upstairs. "He looked a little 'touched' to me, if you know what I mean." Justin continued his intrigue, poking at the big bug?s black coating. Josef offhandedly batted away the poking hand with a free arm.
Code:
IRRESPONSIBLE EXPERIMENTATION GONE WRONG; THE MESSY RESULT OF CHILDREN PLAYING WITH CONCEPTS THEY ONLY BARELY UNDERSTAND. HE IS TOUCHED BY THE HAND OF POOR SCIENTIFIC METHOD AND RUTHLESS, IDIOTIC CURIOSITY. NOT CASSANDRA?S FINEST HOUR.
Josef untangled the bundle of IVs, silvery liquids and so on from their tangle of arms, and held out a hand either side of them, extended towards the beds.
Code:
IF YOU HAVE NO MORE QUESTIONS, PLEASE LIE DOWN AND WAIT FOR THE PROCEDURE TO BEGIN. IF YOU HAVE MORE QUESTIONS, ASK THEM QUICKLY. MY PATIENCE FOR INDECISION WEARS THIN.
"Say no more, fam." Justin gave the Voyager one more look before laying down on one of the appointed cots. "Heh. You sound like me." He mumbled with a knowing smirk. "...Only with human beings, instead of electronics." The boy added simply, before bravely awaiting his fate.
"I?m not sure those two are the best in caring for us, but...what can you do." Dana shrugged, before stepping to the side, feeling out the room and a bed. She sat down, carefully folded her cane and put it back into her pocket, coughed for a few seconds to try and get the foul taste out of her mouth. Then she lay back. "Here we go..." she murmured.
Mia just stood there, looking confused. Not at the situation she found herself in. As the other members of their party started to move towards the beds in preparation for a long, wretched sleep, that wasn?t the part she was struggling with. Instead she looked at the bespectacled kid who just set himself down on a cot.
"Really? 'Fam'? Who do you think you are, 50 Cent? Gonna start being washed up on TV hocking magnets that remove bullets or something?" She shook her head at the scrawny little white boy.
After registering her displeasure at the kid's vernacular, and seeing that her presumed ally had made her choice heading for the same fate, she turned to the alien presence that was keen on getting things underway.
"All right, District 9. Couple ground rules. First, if you fuck this up and I go under permanently, know that ghosts are totally real things on this planet, and I will haunt your ass from here to the stars and back. You won?t be able to itch any of your six armpits without me being a spectral pain, got me?" The gin was making her more bold, even if some of her threats were misguided. Still, it couldn?t hurt to take another sip.
"Second, if anyone's moving my body anywhere, it?s you. I don?t trust the walking sulphur pit to touch me without wrecking my clothes or going farther out of curiosity, so I'd rather you do it since you sealed your...whatever you call that all off, since it won?t actually make contact, and I?m guessing no human is attractive to you anyway. Give me those assurances, and I'll play army brat for you and get on the cot. Deal?"
Josef regarded Mia stoically for a time, long enough for the pause to reach a dew point of distaste.
Code:
ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS. LIE DOWN AND AWAIT TREATMENT.
Feeling a little more pleased with herself, Mia took one final bracing swig of the gin and moved towards one of the open cots. "Oh, and just for your records, some of us don?t make peace with gods. Some of us fight them. Pretty frequently."
Code:
THEN I AM SURE YOU WILL BE GLAD TO FIGHT SOMETHING REAL.
Mia rolled her eyes and took a spot down on her claimed resting spot. "Sweet blasphemy, guide me home..." she muttered under her breath as she closed her eyes, content to let the gin act as her anesthesia.
Emil took a deep breath. "Well, since I?m here, I have to ask: how long will this take, exactly? It's not that I have anywhere else I have to be, but I don't like being bedridden for long periods of time." He tried to seem casual about it, but the edge in his voice betrayed his anxiety.
Code:
A WEEK. YOU WILL BE BEDRIDDEN FOR A WEEK. ONCE THE COCKTAIL HAS PASSED THROUGH, YOU WILL RECOVER TOTALLY WITHIN THREE DAYS. IS THAT SATISFACTORY?
After a moment, Emil let out another breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I can do that. I don?t know if I have any of these nanite things to begin with...but I want to be absolutely sure.
Enrique had no questions, only a simple request, "Just make sure this works alright, I don?t want to have drank good booze and smoked mediocre cigarettes just to have this all blow up in my face alright? Our two hosts seem to trust you, but I can't trust a person that early you know?"
Code:
I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR TRUST, ONLY YOUR SUBMISSION. I WILL ASSURE YOU, MY UNDERSTANDING OF HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY IS GREATER THAN EVEN THE GREATEST SCIENTISTS YOUR KIND HAS PRODUCED. NO EXPLOSIONS WILL TAKE PLACE.
Ryan had already laid himself down on a cot at the end of the row, next to Justin. At the mention of an explosion he glanced at the alien with a worried look, then went back to staring at the ceiling. The old man's hands were clasped tightly on his chest, white knuckles interlocked, rising and falling with his quick breaths. His left arm flexed sporadically. The tanned skin of his hands and face was beginning to glisten with sweat.
As they laid down, ready to be treated, Josef weaved among them, hooking silvery IV bags to stands, and with a care that seemed incongruous with their attitude, threaded IV needles into the arms of the awaiting participants, pinning them down in the same fluid motion. With a flick of a switch that activated the auto-jumper, the liquid began to pump from bag to tube to vein, and one by one, their bodies were set alight with pain and electromagnetic screaming as millions of machines died inside them. Josef stepped away and admired their work, before heading upstairs, leaving the assembled to pass out or become accustomed to the pain.
Extreme sweating, a high temperature, a fever, feeling cold and hypersensitive to all dermal stimuli, including dust, photosensitivity, vomiting after several hours. In the following posts, please explain your characters response over the course of the first day in order to not wallow in this first strand of misery. If your character passes out for the first day, this is fine. After the first day, you are carried upstairs and laid out on mattresses in the burnt out upstairs rooms of the place.
I WILL ASSURE YOU, MY UNDERSTANDING OF HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY IS GREATER THAN EVEN THE GREATEST SCIENTISTS YOUR KIND HAS PRODUCED.
That particular snippet of the bug's confident vocoding singled itself as it echoed through Justin's head, making him curious of its potential. It briefly brought forth the idea for a future project, something that involved some personal body-modding. He didn't know when he'd actually get to that point but was pretty sure the Voyager would be willing to provide him with the steps needed to make such a project successful.
Then, the train of hopeful thought was cut short. Justin didn't realize the Voyager began administering treatment until the sounds of excruciating pain filled the room. He conjured up enough of a thought to want to protest but was too slow to act on it. The silvery treatment entered his veins and wracked him with a sudden pain that left him paralyzed as his skin flushed pale.
He was rendered deaf by a shrill tone that invaded his head and overtook his hearing, a haunting timbre that drowned out the sounds of his own screams alongside everyone else's. It resonated with the pulses throbbing under his skin, an excruciating burning sensation that battled with the searing chill that moved up and down his spine.
He couldn't move. Couldn't hear, couldn't think, and his vision began to blur as tears streamed down his face. He was having trouble regulating his breathing as his eyes bulged and his heart raced. The concept of time slipped from his conscience, he couldn't tell if he had been enduring that pain for minutes or months. Fear was the one primal sensation he could muster in the moment, for he was certain he wasn't going to survive this treatment.
"Dad...dad..." He whimpered weakly, head feverishly swishing from side to side. There was a brief moment of respite for the boy, enough for him to wonder if he finally died from the pain.
The respite was very brief. The sensations seemed to double, and his mouth snapped shut. He caught his tongue in the reaction, and blood began to pool at the back of his throat. He struggled to turn his head and choked out the mixture of fluids swirling in his mouth. Literal blood, sweat, and tears lined the boy's uncomfortable cot, as the pain eventually became too much for his mind to process. He succumbed to unconsciousness, the only mode of relief his body could provide in that inhuman process.
[hr]
Eventually?
Justin couldn't tell if he had truly regained consciousness as he moaned and groaned. It at least felt like he was placed on softer material, but couldn't confirm visually as his eyes simply took too long to open.
"H-hello-?" At the very least, he could hear himself speak again. "Anyone...?" He croaked before the loud bubbling in his stomach overtook his other bodily functions. He rolled to his side the best he could, and puked off the side of the mattress, blindly clearing the contents of his stomach. When he let up, he took a chance to catch his breath. "Fuck...me-BLURK-" The vomit train re-commenced with gusto. At least he wasn't getting it all over himself.
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