| |
|
Tis your fault. - Lucky you. It's -2 degrees right now, which is warm. I just had to occupy them by wrestling with them and proving to them that they both, put together, don't weigh as much as I do xD I will. We're trying to teach him that it's OKAY for him to be in the kennel while I sit RIGHT OUTSIDE. He isn't buying it. |
|  |
|
| |
|
*gasp* NUH-UH. - haha nice. I usually just sit on my little goblin and let her whine for a while before getting up. I'm a good 30lbs heavier than her, and she's got the muscle of a clinically rotund skeleton, so it works xD - I gotta go get food and pick up a coupla couches(as you know, mine became roasted piles of polyester and fluff, and we're literally renting some) so I'll probably be back around 6pm GT - no promises though - so if you wanna/can start go ahead, I'll be a while xD |
|  |
|
| |
|
I posted!!! On the Gleo. - That works too xD. I can't sit on 'em because they're little babies and will shriek like a banshee xD. - Oki! I'll post somethin' and you can respond when you get back. Good luck getting the couches lol. |
| |
|
| |
|
{Hybrid Radar Underground} Subject: D-94, "Axl" +++ It was a warm, sunny day in paradise. Or so the scientists said. All Axl saw ws some whitewashed walls that were VERY quickly getting covered in blood. He let out another low, gutteral snarl of pain as his shoulders felt like that were being ripped from their sockets and electricity coursed into his side, twisting his body away from the pain the best he could. He was chained to the ceiling by his wrists, which were, in fact, also bleeding, as he didn't have the strength to stand at the moment, so he was hanging from the chains. His bare chest was covered with burn marks from the taser and old scars and new wounds. His tattered pants were already dripping with blood, this time from the newest 'test' they were doing. Which so happened to be how much pain he would withstand before he screamed. They needed to make sure he was 'silent' for the military, apparently. That he could be tortured by the enemy but would never say anything. He wasn't quite sure why... they had already sentenced him to death. Why still train him? He found this out quite quickly when his above average hearing picked up on some of his delightful buddies talking in the hallway. They were saying something about how he had been picked for a task force, and how his training needed to finish immediately. He grit his teeth as they sank a small knife into his shoulder and carved out a chunk of skin, slowly. Why didn't they start with that? He didn't know. Seemed like a good method of torture. There was another sharp burst of pain, and he vaguely wondered what that could be, eyes closed. Then he realized it was his own breathing- he had taken in a sharp breath, and his broken ribs screamed in agony. Axl hung his head, chin pressed against his chest, blood dripping from wounds on his face. His eyes opened to slits and he stared down at the white tiled floor, covered in sticky blood. His mouth opened slightly and he drew in a shuddering breath, wishing his shoulders didn't feel dislocated. A second later, a faint voice entered his ears. "He's not going to scream. Let's go." Damn right I'm not. He thought with a wry, twisted smile, despite the pain. Instead of letting him down, they just left him to hang there. He heard the door click shut. 30 minutes later, his arms were so numb they were painfully so, blood trickled down his skin from his wrists, and the dizziness had subsided just slightly. He liftd his chin just slightly, peering around the room. White tiles. White tiles. So boring. Unnatural. Plain. He licked his dry lips, wincing as he shifted to drag his feet underneath him and push himself into a sort of standing position. His wings hung limply, and he could barely get them to twitch. A second later, a human walked in and let the chains loose. It was such a quick movement that Axl crumpled onto the floor, shoulders slumping against the cold tile and hair getting stained by his own blood. "I guess that's one way to dye your hair..." He mumbled under his breath as the human called for others and they all rouggly grabbed him and dragged him out. He was satisfied to se that he left a goodblood trail. More they'd have to clean up. Served them right. When they got back to the small cell he had, they dumped him inside. 6x6 with nothing but stone and metal. Not even a ledge to sleep on. He collapsed as soon as they dropped him, eyes closed, taking shallow breaths. When he woke up- apparently he had fallen unconscious- he felt MUCH better. Okay, he still felt like he had been hit by a semi truck and drowned and tortured and rolled over by a paver and dragged through the air by an F-22, but that was beside the point. Axl braced his left hand on the concrete, took in a breath, and braced his metal hand on the concrete. Stabalizing himself, he slowly pushed upward, getting one foot, then the other underneath him. A couple seconds later, he was standing, leaning against the wall. His forehead pressed against the cool surface and he blew out a breath. Time to gather his strength. Maybe he could at least hurt someone when they came to get him. He rolled his metal shoulder, then his still human one before running his tongue over his fangs and glancing out of the cell. Damn, he was hungry. His dark eyes glinted in the low light, dangerous and deadly. They could torture him and beat him, but he would never give up fighting. Axl tightened the laces on his boots and stretched his wings out as far as they could go, which wasn't far. He then lifted his chin and took a step towards the bars, wrapping his cyborg hand around them and tightening his fist slightly. Someone was coming. He could smell it. His nostrils flared and he sniffed the air again... yes. Eight guards. Why so many? He barely had time to question it before they came into view, one lifted their gun, and he felt a dart sink into his chest. He quickly reached up and yanked it out to examine it before he went out. That was enough damn tranq to put an elephant on the ground. "Bastards..." He mumbled before falling to the ground, world going black. When Axl woke up, he was chained inside a box. His wrists were attatched to the walls, his wings were chained to his torso, and... he had a muzzle on. He snarled lowly at this, vision still blurry. As it started to clear, he realized he was moving... so he was in a truck of some sort. Were they taking him somewhere to kill him early, or...? Oh, yes... he was going to wherever the military people wanted to pick him up. That makes sense. So much fear for one hybrid. Axl chuckled quietly, a low, slightly pained sound. Everything was aching and stabbing and just OUCHING. He narrowed his eyes slightly and turned his gaze to the back of the truck, waiting. He didn't have to wait long before it came to a shuddering halt. He tugged against his chains for a moment before stopping- he wasn't going anywhere. With a quiet huff, he leaned back to wait, glad he was at least standing on his own two feet. That was an accomplishment all in itself. In the meantime, he could just wait for the doors to be opened. Then, when they went to transport him, he could rain hell. Unless they tranquilized him again. |
| |
|
| |
|
(Yayy! couches acquired, the place was close and the couches were light and it was really easy :D) Lieutenant Calvert ᓚᘏᗢ After quite the search through all the options in hybrids[It reminded Norrie of car shopping a little], looking for the perfect Goldilocks one, Norrie found a few nice candidates. Not perfect, but she'd have to go see them in person do decide. A visitation was scheduled, and after some several days of waiting, it was time to go pick out the hybrid. Some stange, jittery fellow whose nametag declared him to be Randy met Norrie at the lab and led her around like it was a demented pet shop. Every one of the guy's suggestions was shot down, much to his dismay, as he seemed to be nervous around all the hybrids. Wimpy little shitstain. Norrie saw some other, less terrified scientists around, most of them with some form of bloodied instrument or another. They looked almost surgical, if you ignored the fact most sharp things seemed to be made for shredding or stabbing, not clean, precise incisions. Norrie asked the hybrid version of a used-car salesman about them, and Randy mumbled something about a hybrid scheduled for euthanasia tomorrow. Too dangerous, apparently. "We'll go look at that one, then," Norrie said, somewhat firmly. He gave her a comically horrified look and asked, "Surely you're kidding." "Did I stutter, dipshit?" Norrie said sharply, and that seemed to kick him into gear. Without a peep of protest, he led Norrie to a cell so well reinforced it seemed like overkill, but must not be. The creature contained in it was currently rather pitiful, though Norrie supposed that if it was gonna be put down for being dangerous, that was a valid reason for the bombproof looking restraints. She looked the hybrid over for a moment before deciding this was the one she'd been looking for, and without a moment's hesitation had let herself into the cell and released the chains. "I'll take this one," She told Randy, who immediately nodded and scurried off to get what Norrie thought of as glorified animal control officers. Randy stayed gone, and Norrie figured he was informing his superior officers of her descision. Randy was quick, at least, and several officers came and got the hybrid. He'd better do well, or he'd end up euthanized, after all. Pity. Some several days later, with all the necessary paperwork, release forms, and other nonsense that Norrie didn't give a fuck about, it was time to go pick up the hybrid. She'd let Sergeant Jackson drive the bigrig, settling for the passenger seat, just to let Jackson feel a little important. Why not. It was an important day; the pick-up of the hybrid - D-94 - so Jackson could feel like a big boy and drive the big truck. D-94 had been moved from the lab to basically a hybrid warehouse of sorts for easy transfer- a controlled environment with armed people ready and waiting in case the hybrid tried any funny business. Jackson backed the truck into a wing of the building, bright flourescent lights casting an unnaturally white glow over everything. A large roll up door shut in front of the truck, effectively closing off Norrie's view of the outside. She got out of the bigrig, Jackson doing the same, and had a feeling that, given what she'd been told about D-94, this was gonna be a shitshow. Oh well. She had a submachine gun slung over her shoulder and a sidearm at her hip, but really hoped she wouldn't have to use either of them. |
| |
|
| |
|
Axl twisted his hands around to grab the chains attached to his wrist, gripping them carefully as he balanced himself upright. He focused his gaze on the doors with a slight growl, eyes narrowing slightly as he waited. Thoughts ran through his mind. How many could he kill. Would they kill him. Hopefully. It was better than more torture. Would they tranq him as soon as they opened the door? He knew that the hybrids they took had one 'handler'. One person to 'train' them in the ways of the military. He'd kill them first. - His ears, slightly elongated, twitched as he heard footsteps, then a latch undoing. His muscles tightened and he lifted his head, waiting. Patiently. A second later, the doors swung open and bright light streamed in, momentarily blinding him. He had been in a dark cell, then a dark car, for hours now. His eyes were very sensitive to light. This horribly BLINDING light was KILLING him. He recoiled slightly, pulling back on the chains and closing his eyes to mere slits, but stayed silent. His mind reeled slightly, and his eyes ached, but moments later, everything slowly started coming into focus. Axl peered in a narrow gaze out the door. Three humans. One female, two male. His nose twitched as he took in their scent, shoulders hunched slightly. The skin that had been rubbed raw on his wrists was bleeding again, the warm liquid trickling down his arms, dripping onto the ground near his elbows. He ran his tongue over his fangs as his eyes fully adjusted to the light, straightening. A quiet growl rumbled from his chest and his gaze narrowed. No one had shot him yet. They better not. He would be even more pissed then. Maybe they'd be stupid enough to NOT tranq him. That'd be amazing. |
| |
|
| |
|
Lieutenant Calvert ᓚᘏᗢ Norrie watched as what's-his-face opened D-94's door, and was immediately mad at his transporters and whatever pompous titles they'd given themselves. The fuck kind of condition was that to keep a living weapon in? It was like having a Humvee ridddled with bullet holes, shattered glass, 3 flat tires and the fourth gone completely, every fluid leaking badly, and missing a door. Just pitiful. Even if the hybrid was going to be euthanized soon, ya don't bring a creature into the world, fuck it up beyond all recognition, decide you don't want it, and then beat the ever-loving shit out of it. It was like the most violent abortion imaginable. Norrie'd have a few choice words with whoever was in charge of all this. That was one of few opinions she'd managed to keep to herself, mainly since others would think her some kind of pansy and replace her. Jackson had a tranquilizer gun on him - the only one Norrie trusted him with in case of close-combat - and both him and the Lieutenant were hoping not to have to shoot the bastard. While Norrie would empty a pound of lead into D-94s skull without hesitation should it come to that, Jackson would probably be more hesitant to do away with this one, mainly because it meant more time and effort wasted. Norrie watched, slightly tense, as the what's-his-face who opened the door enter cautiously, unhooking the chain from one wrist; a task that took one hand and some funky key-thing. He held the hybrid's wrist in one hand, twisting his arm up so that if he tried to move he'd hurt his shoulder, possibly dislocate it. The other wrist was unhooked and forced into a mirrored position, then snapped together with the heaviest duty clevis hook money could buy attatched to a length of chain, and what's-his-face began the ever-dangerous job of guiding D-94 out and to the truck. Jackson had drawn his tranquilizer, and Norrie had her submachine gun in hand, safety off, though aimed at the ground. If the hybrid tried anything, he'd wind up lookin like Swiss fuckin Cheese. |
| |
|
| |
|
Axl's eyes darkened as a person approached the vehicle and cautiously climbed inside. He lifted his lip below the muzzle and snarled loudly, pressing backwards into his chains. As soon as they came close enough, he lowered his head slightly and lunged forward, cracking his skull against theirs as they leaned down to undo the chain. They let out a shriek and backpedaled, dabbing at a blossoming bloody bruise. Axl snorted quietly, ignoring the own pain in his skull. He was stronger than those wretched humans. As they returned, even more carefully now, to undo the chains, he eyed them with bored irritation. Yes, he hated these beings, loathed them with every fiber of his body, but he had learned to hide it. That was better than letting it show. As his shoulder was twisted around painfully, the only indication of pain he showed was a twitching of his ear. The other shoulder soon followed, and he was cuffed into the heavy metal stuff. Thing must've cost a damn fortune. He pressed his shoulders forward slightly to avoid the pain in his shoulders, as his wrists were already injured and bleeding. He'd rather it be one place than both. - As the now trembling man starting backing out of the truck, holding the end of the chain, Axl slowly took a step forward, nostrils flaring as he scented the air again. He let his shoulder roll back slightly and hopped out of the truck with a lithe grace he should not have after the torture he had been through. The man with the chain was on the very end of it like a wimp, so Axl sidled over that way, looming over them with his height, tilting his head down towards them. "Boo." He huffed out a breath of air on their face, earning a terrified squeak as they took a step back. He almost smiled slightly, though it was more of a sneer. He tightened his jaw slightly and turned his gaze around the entirety of three people. Three people to take care of him. The employees obviously didn't care whether these two military people lived or died. The two people were holding guns, however, and he knew he could still die, even if it was harder to kill him than any normal human. Maybe he should, though. It'd make his life a helluva lot less miserable. - He noticed that one of the guns was just a tranq gun, sadly. "Typical humans... keep the animal alive to use for their own good." He mused, voice low and gravelly, eyes focused on the tranq gun for a moment before they flit back up, scanning the man, then the woman, then the person holding the end of his chain. He could easily yank it out of their feeble grasp, but what would that do for him. It would get him shot, that's what. With a tranq dart, likely. He ran his tongue over his fangs again, hunger gnawing at his stomach. In his experience, humans tasted DISGUSTING, but he was damn well hungry enough to eat a couple. |
| |
|
| |
|
Lieutenant Calvert ᓚᘏᗢ Norrie admittedly had to stifle a grim snicker as what's-his-face got headbutted. He deserved it. If he lived through this, Norrie'd give him quite the earful about taking better care of government property, and how tranqing the hybrid would make things a lot easier, and cut rehab time shorter. Time is money, after all. It'd take too damn long to get this one into a fully functioning state. If she could, Norrie would also give him a good smackin, but since she really couldn't, she'd settle for letting D-94 intimidate the little tramp and whack him around a bit. Jackson tensed a little at the hybrid's words, readjusting the grip of his slightly sweaty palms on his gun. Norrie, without missing a beat, retorted, "Yeah yeah, just shut your trap or your next words'll be muffled by your own ass. Make another wrong move and you're skull'll be vaporized right off your shoulders." The tone of her last sentence suggested that what'd actually happen if he acted out agianst the twerp currently trying to restrain him was that Norrie'd just so happen to be looking the other way and saw nothing, and therefore wouldn't shoot. So long as he didn't try to make a fun for it or go for Norrie or Jackson, she was feeling somewhat merciful today. Not I'll-shoot-anyone-who-moves, at least. "Just make things easier for yourself," Norrie said, sidling around toward what's-his-face's vehicle to be more behind D-94. This also meant what's-his-face was partly inbetween Norrie and the hybrid, and also meant she didn't technically have a clear shot, but who cares. Jackson followed her lead to some extent, so he was now positioned directly between the two vehicles. Norrie gestured at what's-his-face with the barrel of her gun to get his ass in gear, and he understood enough, at least. He understood that Norrie wouldn't mind putting a bit of high-velocity lead in his legs if he didn't start using them. |
| |
|
| |
|
Axl snorted quietly as the man tensed and readjusted their grip on the gun. "I can smell your sweaty fear." He murmured under his breath, lips curling into a sneer under the muzzle as he turned his dark gaze to the woman. "Now wouldn't that be a shame. No more annoying highly lethal hybrid skull." He deadpanned, tone holding underlaying sarcasm. "Humans and their threats." He rolled his shoulder forward again, scowling as he heard a quiet pop in one of his wrists. A tendon snapping over, he assumed. It wasn't an injury, but it did remind him of how unnecessarily cruel humans were. - He moved slightly closer to the human employee as they backed up again, each step calculated and slow, mirror to a predator stalking their prey. He curled his lip up in a look of disgust as the human tripped over themselves trying to get away and stay at the end of the chain this time. "How sporting. If you're willing to take a crap in fear as well, it'd be much appreciated. Hope you wore your brown pants." He mocked sarcastically, shaking his head and glancing around, eyes narrowing as they scanned every surface. He straightened slightly as a scent carried on the wind... steak. Someone could've been cooking it 10 miles away but he flipping smelled it and it smelled delicious. His nose twitched and he frowned, looking a bit irritated. If he starved to death before he could kill anyone, he'd be GREATLY unhappy. He wiggled his cyborg wrist slightly, knowing that if he pried it, he could get it out. It was a matter of strength, and he had it, especially with the metal. Pausing for a second, he called up the specs. Letters flashed in front of his vision and scanned across and down. He still had a human/animal like brain... but when the explosion happened, they added in an extra database to control the arm, meaning he practically had a cyborg mind on the side and could make split second calculations at his whim. He was, indeed, the most dangerous hybrid in existence. - He realized he hadn't eaten in exactly 2 weeks, 3 days, 1 hour and 34 seconds. The text scrolling down his vision also included blood loss warnings and dehydration warnings. All good thing. He dismissed the text with a blink and stalked after the human, who was stumbling back slowly in an effort to lead him into the compound. As he approached, he merely stuck out his leg the slightest bit, but with how much the guy was trembling and how focused they were on him, they tripped immediately and went crashing to the ground. "Whoops." Axl mumbled, looking not at all sorry as he paused and waited for them to scramble back up. He was absolutely loving the fear scent rolling off of this guy in waves, although it was making his mouth water. Food would be much appreciated, but he was sure that wouldn't come for a while. He shouldered past the idiot that was standing there like a frightened sheep now and entered the building, sniffing the air. Not many people here. How sad. |
| |
|
Snow and Sleet Mix, Clearing at Night
