DISCOUNT HERO ( molbok ) Mar 5, 2013 13:13:00 GMT -5
Post by Kite Ostling on Mar 5, 2013 13:13:00 GMT -5
"Will you just hold him STILL for the sedat- AGH! For Christsake just..."
"Gett'da fak'nell OFF ME!"
"Juus get tha damm mashine calabrated! I saad get eh FIXEDH!"
Glass shattered on the tile floor, the light amber color of the sedative inside splashing over the random scattering of dark red blood. In the far corner of the room a spindly youngish man in white scrubs held a cloth to his broken nose, snarling into the intercom on the wall in a nasal voice. Directly opposite him in the room was a fairly massive line of thick glass boxes hooked up to equally massive machines. Each box, cage, whatever they were, could easily have held a man standing, arms spread. The machine furthest left and closest to the door was flashing lights, red, yellow, and the occasional blue, and let out an obnoxious trill of endless high-pitched beeps. The other two, the furthest right of which was already occupied, were running off the same main server and quietly flashed error messages.
More or less directly between the malfunctioning machines and the man on the phone were three more people, all of them in violent disagreement with one another. A tall woman built like an Amazon, complete with a braided blonde hair and shocking blue eyes, was dressed in black fatigues with UNIT's logo emblazoned on them in bold lettering. She was currently holding a shorter, considerably less attractive blonde in a vicious choke-hold from behind while he screamed obscenities at the even shorter, overweight man in a lab coat that stood facing them both.
Kite, the losing toss of the blondes and functional epicenter of the current situation, was pissed. Both wrists were caught behind his back in handcuffs and twisted in a way that made his elbows want to break out of socket, and the tight arm around his neck did not improve his attitude. Unfortunately, it had not yet shut him up either.
"Try'et again n'Ill shoveet so far up y'ass l'take surgery t'find!"
Shoe soles screeched on the tile, Kite's, as the officer twisted, deftly side-stepping the mule-kick that came at her knee, and slammed Kite against the Southern wall of the room. His particularly cutting comment involving the scientist's mother, a camel, and how both were therefor involved in his genetic makeup was cut short as his teeth were nearly banged through his tongue.
Miss Amazon wasn't much for words.
Across the room the skinny, wire-haired man finally released the button on the intercom with a vengeful look. Behind Kite the frantic beeping stopped, and the machines slowly started clicking back to green and blue lights. The portly scientist gave up trying to measure out another dose of sedative and lurched toward the machine, punching in a code with sweaty, shaking hands. Beady, cruel eyes jumped to where Kite was slowly being integrated into the wall, then he smiled to himself and finished the coordinates. With a chemical hiss, the door opened.
"Shove the freak in." There was a pause, wherein he considered the blotchy face of his broken-nosed coworker. "Cuffs and all."
With a well placed arm crank to drag him across the room, then a hard shove between the shoulder-blades, Kite was manhandled into the glass container. He bounced off the opposite wall chest first, then spun and booted at the door which had already sealed shut. All he got for the effort was a sore foot.
"THISSAIN'T RIGHT!" he screamed, leaning with a thud against the back wall of the glass. His heart was jackrabbiting dangerously in his chest, and with good reason. From his time in the labs, though only a week and a half, he had a pretty good idea what this machine was, and he'd narrowed it down to about two options. Either they were about to kill him, as had been threatened many, many times, or he was about to be put into the infamous dome. If he was honest with himself, which he never was, he wouldn't have been sure which one he would rather face.
The skinny man approached the machine next to him, and Kite watched as he checked the readout, geared up several levers, then flipped a small plastic cover and pushed his blood-smeared thumb down onto an important looking button. Around Kite, the machine thrummed to life. It was like someone was cranking up a bass stereo, the vibration louder and louder until it became, for a second, excruciating. The whole buildup took maybe ten seconds, but time stretched in Kite's adrenaline charged mind. Right at that sharp point of pain, everything stopped, and it was like holding his breath.
And then the world exploded into white.
It took him most of the fall to realize that he was falling, and by that time is was far too late to do anything about it. Not that he could have anyways. Fifteen feet through open air and then he struck down at on oblique angle on a wind-carved snowdrift, which was about as soft as loose dirt, in that it wasn't soft at all. The angle he hit stopped him from breaking anything, and threw him hard out onto the ice below without much of any loss of momentum. He struck hard on his side, right leg going numb in an instant, and slid a good ten feet more before bumping to a stop against the base of another behemoth crag of snow and ice. The breath had been knocked out of him at some point, he discovered as he tried to inhale and choked on the effort. Rather than struggle with it, he gave up and sprawled while feeling slowly returned to his leg, blue eyes crawling over his surroundings.
Empty was an understatement. He was on a veritable plain of glacial black and indigo ice riddled with harsh crags of snow. And it was snowing more, damn hard in fact; the sky above was a wash of a somehow dark, but blinding white. Night-time, then, but with a nearly full moon behind the clouds that lit up the frozen landscape with a cold ambiance. But none of the falling snow was touching down so much as screaming sideways as vicious, winter wind cut across the lake. The snow it carried and chewed away from the drifts cut Kite's line of vision down to no more than twenty feet, with rare glimpses that showed much more. As he watched, the wind would pick up and press his line of sight in nearly to his own feet, the sound a howling drone. Then, for a moment when the wind was low, he thought he heard actual howling, somewhere in the distance. He was going to need a plan.
ooc; it was supposed to be shorter! XD Always carried away with the starterposts, I am