-EXPERIMENT #937 HAS AWOKEN. VITAL SIGNS STABLE.TERMINATION UNNECESSARY.
-EXPERIMENT #222 HAS AWOKEN. VITAL SIGNS STABLE, DETECTING SLIGHT ABNORMALITY IN BRAIN WAVE PATTERN. TERMINATION UNNECESSARY.
-EXPERIMENT #246 HAS AWOKEN. DETECTING SLIGHT INCREASE IN HEART RATE. TERMINATION UNNECESSARY.
-EXPERIMENT #447 HAS AWOKEN. VITAL SIGNS STABLE. TERMINATION UNNECESSARY.
-EXPERIMENT #324 HAS AWOKEN. SLIGHT ABNORMALTY DETECTED IN BRAIN WAVE PATTERN, TERMINATION UNNEEDED.
-EXPERIMENT #666 HAS AWOKEN. VITAL SIGNS =ER0. 7ERM|N@TI0/\| |_|NNECESSARY.
-EXPERIMENT #774 HAS AWOKEN. VITAL SIGNS STABLE.

-EXPERIMENTS #57-115 HAVE BEEN TERMINATED. -EXPERIMENTS 223-245 HAVE BEEN TERMINATED. -EXPERIMENTS #334-773 HAVE BEEN TERMINATED.

-ALL STAFF PLEASE PROCEED TO DESIGNATED AREAS. SCHEDULES WILL BE GIVEN OUT TIMELY.

-PREPPING FACILITIES,
-GENERATORS FUNCTIONAL
-LABORATORY AT OPTIMALPOWER
-SECURITY CODES ENABLED
-DATA TRANSFERRED

MORPHINE ADMINISTRATION CEASED, DRUG BI-LITHOSURIGATE ADMINISTERED

TEST SUBJECTS AWAKING.

PROJECT VARIANT HAS COMMENCED.

---

The lights turn on methodically one by one, illuminating the startling whiteness of the hallways. That of which greatly resembled the hallways of hospitals save for the lack of waiting benches and posters building your paranoia into paying for an extra check up just to make sure you don't have some form of rare and deadly strain of flu. No, the hallway here were long and barren though the acrid smell of morphine and disinfect lingered strongly in the hallways.

The scent was so strong, it crept past the lead lined doors, seeping beneath the minuscule cracks,through the gaps on the bolts and the hollow bubbles of the soldered iron. Winding up the leg of the bed frame to greet it's waking inhabitant along with the slow drip of the IV.

The scientists were gathered in the observation deck, which really was better described as a gigantic sphere filled with a hundred cameras attached to a hundred of monitors, attached to hundreds of miniature sensors keeping track of temperature, humidity and air percentages. Those were currently being ignored in favor of the large television screens curved to fit the room, displaying what could be considered a momentous moment that would never be marked down in any history book.

The soft signaling beep drew everyone's attention to a screen where the first of many and the first of few was beginning to stir. Eyes trained on the waking individual, they watched with bated breath. Their vital signs said they were alive, but it was still a tremendous moment watching their creations they had slaved over so long finally come to fruition in those tense few moments. So far, they had only seen then on the operating table, lying motionless through all the cleanings and the changing of their IV bag. It felt surreal watching them shift and roll over, open their mouths and groan, their eyes opening for the first time in a long time without the help of another. Right on time.

Luka's eyes flickered to the other monitors where experiments still lay motionless, not due for an indefinite period of time. They were....unsettled. Either needing a longer incubation time or secondary experiments that still had to be..tweaked. His eyes lingered on them, before darting back to the waking experiments.

Another screen flashing in the middle of the monitors, in neon green pixelated letters,

CALLING TO MONITOR DUTY.
DR JACE SCHWARZLICHT -EXPERIMENT#324
DR HANS NOTH-EXPERIMENT#937
DR EMMA WINTERS-EXPERIMENT#447
DR EMMA WINTERS-EXPERIMENT#222
DR LESHA WATSON-EXPERIMENT#246
DR LESHA WATSON-EXPERIMENT #666
DR LUCARIO DE NOTE-EXPERIMENT#774

PLEASE REPORT TO RESPECTIVE STATIONS FOR BRIEFING AND FITTING

Luka's breath caught as his name flashed infront of him. He didn't know if he should be grateful or fearful that he had been selected to check on the newly waking test subjects. Lord knows why they couldn't afford to install some sort of speaker or monitor in the room to brief the awaking test subjects. He supposed it was important to test the experiment's reaction to another's sentient presence, as well as perform a check up physically on the subjects to see how well they responded to someone probing and poking about them so that they could figure how to carry out future physical and mental testing. It was important to see if the subjects could make any sense or communicate to them properly. The fact that they were still alive wasn't good enough, wouldn't be good at all if they still retained their previous detriments. Even more so if they had some sort of physical defect, the whole project might be scraped if even the slightest thing went wrong. They were alreay treading on thin ice with their high ups after the bite incident of 87, though it wasn't really their fault. He had never dreamed that they would renew funding after that disatorous little black mark.

Taking off his glasses, really he needed some good contacts, he ran a hand through his hair before turning to the door along with several colleagues of his; some old, most unknown. At the very least, he could try to assure himself that the protective suits they were going to be fitted would be enough to protect from whatever hazards they were going to face. He hadn't worked too much with any of the experiments beforehand, only a few specific patients, so he wasn't all too sure what exactly he was going to face. Oh it was all there on the charts, but those were only theories and speculations based on what data they had collected. It wasn't like him not to trust chemistry, but...the world's most trained physicist still couldn't come up with an explanation for why a duck's quack didn't echo! How could they be sure of anything at this point?!

He sighed as he was passed through decontamination, the sight of the thick hazmat suit greeting him. At least, he only had to visit and examine one subject unlike those who would have to balance their time to visit too. Lord, they were low on staff, too many students opting for psychology courses. The rubbery plastic didn't feel very reassuring and the long hallway leading down into the 'ward' felt more like a descent into the chamber of all of heck.
-----
The water was cold, dark and choking, sucking him below the surface and blotting out the sun.
The water pushed down on him from all sides. The more he struggled the more disorentatied he got. Up down, left right, nothing made any sense anymore. He pushed with his arms and legs but he could find no levarage, for all he knew he was pushing himself further down. His lungs burned for more air and even though he knew he would get none his body still took a breath. Cold water rushed to fill his lungs and blood pounded behind his eyes. The darkness engulfed him and he had nothing left in him to fight anymore. He gave into the darkness and let the water take him.

He hit the floor with a hard thud, the IV needle yanked out of his arm. Opening his eyes, he expected the dark inky blackness of the water only to be blinded by a white hot intensity. Something burned in his nostrils. He turned, only to collide his forehead against a solid wall. Pain skyrocketing through his head, unlike anything he felt before and he had had his limbs torn out and his eye smashed against jagged rocks. His pain tolerance should have been much better than that. Rolling around in agony, he slowly calmed down and curled into a fetal position, slowly opening his left eye, the cold floor felt soothing. For a moment, he wondered if he was back in the dungeon, if he was back with the others, if Edge would visit him, but...it was far too bright to be the dungeon. Far too bright to be anywhere that he knew off.

Laying there, he waited for the darkness to overtake him again, belittle him for believing in yet another illusion, to take him back into the painful bindings of reality. He waited and waited...and waited before concluding that this was a prolonged illusion. It was unlike any hallucination he had experienced before, for one the coldness wasn't overwhelming and the light, however harsh, wasn't accompanied by the sharp flippant remarks from his own demented mind. Perhaps he had finally died. Hah! That was a good laugh. Death would be far too good for him. Where ever he was, that held true.....

Dr. Watson

DR IESHA WATSON - EXPERIMENT #246-- the computerized voice intoned, stirring the butterflies gathered in her stomach. DR IESHA WATSON - EXPERIMENT #666

246--666--she closed her eyes, the muscles in her jaw twitching as she ground her teeth. Despite the ibuprofen, her migraine had yet to abate and had taken the edge off their small, glorious victory. It still didn't deter the sharp grin that flashed across her face now. 246. 666. At long last, they would taste the fruits of their labors. She expected them to be sweet indeed.

Hurrying through decontamination as much as she dared--which, given the gravity of the circumstances, wasn't much--she fumbled with her hazmat suit, then slowed. Though she remembered every detail of the reports, it never hurt to be too careful. Protocol existed for a reason. Mainly liability reasons. Bones aching, she stretched her jaw. She really needed to stop grinding her teeth.

Double checking every zipper, flap and errant tab, Iesha picked up her clipboard. With its sharp edges digging into her breast, her overtaxed muscles loosened slightly. Better. #246 first, then 666. As she strode the length of the hallway to the ward, she ran through what she knew of the subject and decided it wasn't enough. Testing had proven inconclusive, further research required. An unknown quantity. Iesha despised unknown quantities. The very thought brought a toothy smile to her lips. The kind of smile sharks envy.

"Ready, Dr. De Note?" she asked, pausing a step behind her coworker and favoring him with a scrutinizing squint. "Everything in order?"

---

Tam

Pain shuddered though their eyes, penetrating deep into their cranium before they slammed them shut and smashed their fists over the sockets. Distantly, they could hear their scream dissipate into the blinding light and it took several shivery breaths to refill their lungs enough for a long string of cusses, syllables malformed by a tongue that seemed too thick for their mouth. After a moment, Tam withdrew their hands from their face, finger by finger. Light seeped through, so strong as to be unbearable. Tam bore it. Opening one eye, they blinked at the blurred world. Bright and white. Carefully opening the second eye, Tam squinted at nothing. Beds, they realized, people, IV drips, walls, people, machines, machines, machines, concrete, steel, earth, people--

They groaned, a quiet sound that forced itself from Tam's lungs as they fell back into the dark. Nothing.

A second attempt. Had there been a first? Wakefulness broke over Tam in pieces. First the ears: breathing, their own, mostly, but they knew of others. How? For a brief, precarious moment they balanced on the verge of knowing--they opened their eyes and let the pain of the light force all thought from their mind. No screaming this time. They bit their lip. Concentrating, Tam saw a camera. It was if 90% of their vision had retreated into their periphery. A camera. They stared at it, practicing their new, limited form of sight. They realized, slowly, that they should be upset about the camera. They should be upset about a number of things, actually, and they were upset just--differently. Slowly, Tam sat up, felt the gentle tug of the IV drip.

Don't pull it out, they told themself. It hurts. I used to do it a lot before. That was dumb. Why would I do that? Because I was afraid. Of what?

Their thoughts felt slow and the world seemed farther away than usual: muffled and blurred.

Two people were moving nearby, though, they knew that much. How?

"Excuse me?"

Tam cleared their throat in a very reasonable way.

"Excuse me, where am I?"

But, as it turned out, Tam already knew the answer to that question.

Adam, like all of the other test subjects, was fast asleep in a comatose state; for god knows how long now. As the awakening process began, however, he began to move. Twitching once, then another time a few seconds later. After a longer pause, he twitched again, more violently, and then settled down again. A longer pause, and then a sudden jerk to life. Adam sat up in a rapid motion, and then clutched at his back in almost as fast a motion. Searing pain was felt in the space between his shoulder blades, and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet! As he grabbed at the area surrounding his back, he felt a strange, solid leathery sensation, and traced it toward himself. This...thing was somehow attached to his back. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting as the artificial lighting burnt his dilated pupils with what felt like the force of a thousand suns. He had not opened his eyes in a while, and he could feel it. He had still been holding the strange leathery object stuck to his back, but did not dare to attempt to yank it out, as the pain was already far too great in that area. He tried opening his eyes again, this time with some success.

Before he could open his eyes fully, a massive force contacted the right side of his face, knocking him off of the bed he was on. The force felt like the same leather he had been touching with his left hand, except there was also some piercing sharpness to the force as well. "Maaaate! Whatcha doin' yankin' on me doodle?!" A very loud Australian accent exclaimed. Adam noticed his left arm was not longer clutching at his back, and was instead up towards the bed, as it was still attached to an IV drip. He was still very disoriented, and paid little attention to the voice from earlier. To him, it felt almost like waking up from one of his 'episodes', although with much more pain involved. Three more leathery forces impacted his face in quick succession, first from the left, then the right, then the left again. The last one knocked him to his belly, causing him to pull the IV drip onto the floor as well. He opened his eyes again, seeing small puddles of red on the cold floor, very close to his face. With his right hand, he touched his cheek and felt a stinging sensation. He pulled it away from his face and looked at it. Blood. Then, as his face began to tingle he wiped the blood on his gown and put his hand to his face again. He pulled it away. No blood. He could not fathom what was happening to him, as he sat up on his knees.

"Are you bloody retarded or sumfin'?" The voice yelled again, this time very close to his ear. So close, in fact, that he could feel a cold yet organic movement of air touching his right ear as the voice yelled. Adam turned his head towards the source of the sound, and immediately jumped back, pulling the IV drip further away from the bed as well. What he saw was a terrifying grey face, with glowing pupil-less eyes, and incredibly pointed teeth within a mouth that seemed to have a perpetually evil smile. This face took up most of his field of view, but as he moved backwards, he could notice that the head was in fact floating a little away from the body, which was a hulking mass of grey muscle. Adam also noticed the Australian cork hat that the monstrous figure wore, and also the fact that he could still not fit the entire figure into his field of view. His eyes followed the terrifying figure down its body, just to see where it ended. Before he could go too far, however, he was interrupted by yet another slap to the face, coming from the monster's gigantic claw, knocking him even further backwards, and pulling the IV drip even further along the floor. "First ya' touch me inappropriate-like, then yer' gunna look at me in places? At least buy me dinna' first ya' bloody pervert wank, fuaaark!" Adam did not comprehend what was going on, as he laid on the floor, watching the figure look at him, then look on over towards the IV drip that was on the floor. The figure followed the cord to where it was attached, which was Adam's left arm, and Adam did the same. The monster then took Adam's wrist, and yanked the needle out of his wrist with no care intended whatsoever. Adam screamed as he began to bleed profusely from his wrist, and he looked away. "Oh man the fuck up, ya' little whiny bitch!"

Adam's wrist began to tingle, and he looked back at it again. The wound began to close itself up, and when he wiped away the blood, it was as if there was never a wound to begin with! He looked up at the monster, who was now looming upside-down over his head. "Wh-who are you?!"
"Ya' mean ya' don't remembah? Aw, that breaks me heart! It's me, Bruce!"

Mr. Schwarzlicht

A yawn escaped his lips as his eyes sleepily glided from screen to screen. So they were waking up, those test animals. His pupils flickered over to the other scientists. Mmm... where they showing emotion? Should I show emotion? Straining, his eyebrows contracting and his features contorting at his efforts, he tried to remember the last time he had felt emotion. Ah... Sophie. A true, real smile flickered across his face. But as quick as birds fly across the sky, it was gone again. I need to save Sophie.

You think the human race has discovered a breakthrough, huh?

EXPERIMENT #937 HAS AWOKEN. VITAL SIGNS STABLE.TERMINATION UNNECESSARY.
It boomed across the barren walls, and echoed...twice...once outside, once in his head. A more malicious smile spread across his lips. So you've survived, little mouse. He pleasantly looked over at the screen that displayed his assigned experiment awakening. Without a care in the world.

Proud of yourselves, you rats?

Flashing a polite grin at Dr. Watson and her scrutinizing, piercing looks, he makes his way to decontamination. She looks cheery, he thought. Then his view slid beyond hers, and rested on a very tortured looking college: Mr. De Note. His features, actions, vibes were familiar. Jace blinked. Such a distant look. Could he be dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating?

So long as innocent girls die because of your selfishness... Oh. Sophie. Sophie...

Jace stepped up to Dr. De Note. He really wasn't in the mood, but oh well. Be nice to the other kids, wasn't it? Placing a firm, pale hand on De Note's shoulder, digging his fingers into his skin and shaking firmly, he searched for his attention. "Mr. De Note?" his low, booming voice came out. Calmly, he steadied his grip. "Are you alright?"

Damnit, he thought, same look I had on me when... No, Sophie didn't die. Anyways, it was something he had to face alone, to beat alone. He looked up at Dr. Watson. "Any idea what's happened to him?"

Too overjoyed, maybe? Heh.

The strong smell of chemicals in the air tickled Emma's nose, making her hold her breath as she stood beside her colleagues in the observation deck Her green eyes were fixated on the monitors, attentively observing the text flashing on them, as she bit her lip in nervousness. Her heart seemed to be beating as fast as experiment #246; it was a wonder the other scientists couldn't hear it in the silence of the room. Emma couldn't help it. She was much too excited. After months of toiling in the labs, working side-by-side among a few of the country's brilliant scientists on an immense project such as this, she felt like it was an honor to have a front-row seat. She didn't need the fame or the money. Her name would probably never be mentioned if this ever came to light for she was after all, just an assistant. But the experience, the discovery of something new, something momentous...well, just the mere thought of it made her heart race.

Emma's eyes widened as her name flashed in bold green letters on one of the monitors. Not only was she going to be monitoring the specimens on her own, but she was going to be handling two of them. Experiments 447 and 222. She racked her brains to remember any information on them. Had she worked with them before? She wouldn't know. So far, all she'd done was assist without asking any questions. Emma shook her head. It didn't matter. She was going to be fine. Just go in, do a quick check-up, move to the other one, repeat, get out, she told herself as she followed the scientists, her hand clutched tightly around the cold, metal can of her trusty pepper spray in the pocket of her lab coat. She knew she would have no use for it, especially since she was going to be wearing a protective suit over her clothes, but its presence made her feel less nervous.

She went through the decontamination and fitting process in a daze, occupied in her thoughts about what she would expect once she would be in the ward. Would they be violent? Would the whole project be terminated because of one failed experiment? She shook her head. No, she couldn't let that happen. She'd be damned if she let such an opportunity slip through her fingers.

The voices of the other doctors brought her attention to them. Emma glanced at them briefly before quickly looking away. She'd worked with some of them, but she hadn't talked with them about anything outside of work. It was better that way. She'd always mucked up social interactions in the past. There was no time for chit-chat anyhow. Who knew what awaited them on the other side...

"It is just Dr Note, and I would not proceed unless everything was ready and in order, Dr Watson" He said coldly, shooting a grim look over at his 'new' colleague, trying to look at her in a way that the screen of the hazmat suit didn't catch the glare of the lights. Did she think he was some foolhardy fresh faced novice? Inspecting him as if she expected there to be some flaw in the product. Well, he was hardly flawless and neither was anyone in any aspect, but he was certainly not incompetent in any sense. He didn't know what misguided impression or unfounded gossip the good doctor might have chanced upon, but he doubted she would find any truth behind it. And hopefully, he would find out who was responsible for spreading such nonsense as well.

"I advise you focus on yourself, Dr Watson. The board does not take kindly to any mistakes made, often they terminate them." He added the last with a hint of unintentional malice. Shrugging off the hand on his shoulder, he sent a glare to the man, starting to feel uncomfortable with the growing crowd. He was not good with people. "This is a place of work Dr Schwarzlitch not socialization, I suggest you hurry to your own ward." He muttered, stalking away from them down the long winding hallway, his attention returning back to his own clipboard, looking over the notes of patient #774. The young man's name and picture were underwhelming, his life story; worse than underwhelming. He glossed over those unavailing details and flipped the chart over to his medical history. Feeling his aforementioned nervousness grow as he scanned all the 'reassuring' details of the subject's violent history with the medical staff. Heavy depression...Dissociative personality disorder...Multiple personalities..Lapse in rational judgement, as expected...

Well, if their money had been well spent, he should have only one personality left, whether what remained was this violent sociopath 'Bruce' as named or 'Adam' still remained to be seen.

By the time that he had finished reading his file, he looked up to find the dark bold numbers '#774' staring him straight in the face, his colleague having already departed to a different part of the ward. Taking a breath, he signaled to the cameras before passing his identification card through the scanner, then punching in a code. Waiting for verification from the system and the security personnel. Things were tight here, not even a 10-pin code and personalized identity card could be trusted anymore. Doors had to be accessed remotely via an ever vigilant group of technicians/security. It was the 21st century for crying out loud and he needed to wait for someone else to open a door for him.

He pondered how backwards they had gone whilst the many intricate locking mechanisms behind the door clicked and whirled, magnetizing and demagnetizing. After the first door slid open there was a second door requiring yet another 10-pin code though it was at least it opened on it's own since there were no cameras within the confined space between both doors. Not exactly a good thing for any claustrophobics, as if the suit wasn't suffocating enough; he was starting to swear in there.

Taking a breath, he waited as the doors slid open to reveal experiment #774, butt faced to him. Now? There was a protocol for this, they had been briefed about this multiple times, but right now he couldn't remember a single thing of what he was briefed on. Well, he could remember the general steps. Check the subject's ability to respond to simple instruction and reaction to another sentient being

"Adam." He said, surprised that his voice didn't waver, "Please stand up and face the wall." He instructed, taking this as a chance to test the other's sense of balance and locomotion skill whilst he could. And if the subject could walk, then that was a good sign that he was healthy and not a bedridden rejection. Again, physical health was second to mental sanity, he waited for the subject to respond and from there he would judge if he was fit to continue the experiment.

---

He wasn't sure why it wasn't ending. He should be waking up at the bottom of the ocean now or in the morose hallowed darkness of the great dungeon. Closing his eyes, he found some darkness, but it felt completely unreal. Far too light and underwhelming. His heart quickened, unable to find even the vestiges of the real darkness. Had even that, left him alone?

"It is just Dr Note, and I would not proceed unless everything was ready and in order, Dr Watson," De Note snapped, turning his steely gaze on her. She held it just long enough and calmly enough to preserve her pride before glancing aside, assuaging his. "I advise you focus on yourself, Dr Watson. The board does not take kindly to any mistakes made, often they terminate them."

The threat hung on the air, and Iesha met it with silence, the muscle in her face tensing as her sole reply. She would make no mistakes. De Note shrugged off their coworker with similar irritability before striding off, presumably to see to his ward. For a moment, she watched him go, weighing his response. They'd had some scant interaction in the previous months, from which she'd come away generally unimpressed. Her opinion had not improved.

"Do you know what happened to him?"

"Hmm." She tapped her fingers down the length of her clipboard, staring at nothing as she came to some decision about De Note. A small man, but not a useless one. Peering sideways, she took a few seconds to observe Schwartzlicht as well. She tried on a smile, but it didn't quite fit. "You heard the man," she replied, nodding in De Note's direction. "We've work to do. Doctor Schwartlicht," she nodded, preparing to take her leave as she noticed the intern had joined them. "Doctor Winters."

The latter seemed distracted, Iesha decided. Or perhaps simply focused on the task at hand, she amended, wincing a little. After all, the blowhard had a point: they had their duties to attend to. Squaring her shoulders, she waved slightly at the camera before producing her ID and keying in the code, long since memorized. The first set of doors opened almost reluctantly.

Entering the hallway beyond, she paused as her migraine pulsed threateningly at the reek of disinfectant. She forced the corner of her clipboard into her side until she no longer felt queasy, and began making her way towards her charges. Here--#666. It took a moment to get the door open, and another for her to register the scene. As she watched, #666 spasmed, back arching. Gritting her teeth, Iesha hurried to her side and quickly assessed the situation: grand mal seizure. Lips pressed thin, she signaled to the technical team--hopefully they had already begun to time the event. Moving the IV closer to the shuddering subject, she checked to make sure the thin tube was still securely inserted and stood ready to catch her should she seem in danger of rolling off the cot. Padded bars, she thought distantly, to make sure their precious experiments didn't spill themselves across the floor. That would be a good investment, surely.

In less than forty seconds--Iesha counted--the jerking movements had subsided to perfect unconsciousness again. Placing two fingers against #666's neck, she easily located a fast, but steady, pulse. A quick examination showed that nothing was broken, though perhaps there would be some bruising. Pursed lips loosened, the doctor proceeded to turn the subject on her side. Jotting her observations of the incident, she sighed inwardly. Seizure--not a great sign. The subject stirred, coughing wetly. A closer look revealed nothing more serious than a bit of spittle. She breathed normally. Satisfied, Iesha wrote this down as well.

//Edited//

Slowly Florence woke, movements not much more than some subtle shifting. Waking felt surreal for him, and he had been awake for a few minutes realizing that he actually had woken up, mistaking the feeling for yet another dreamless dream.One by one he started to gain control of his senses; the familiarity of being in a hospital bed was the first one to come to him. He rolled over and felt something in his arm, and upon realizing what it was, he opened his eyes. While the room wasn't an unusual sight for him it wasn't one he was ecstatic to see. Had he made another attempt? Though he couldn't remember what happened, he was angry at himself for the possibility.

The morphine started to diminish, in its wake was a splitting migraine. Suddenly the man was much more active, moving around and burying his face in the pillow, looking for some relief from the burning florescent light. Florence forced himself to calm down after a minute of screaming before carefully picking his head off the pillow, needing to breathe. He rested the side of his face back onto the pillow and grabbed the back of his head, absently rubbing it as he took the time to think about his situation. Had his hair been shaven? He couldn't remember. But he couldn't think straight. His thoughts were in fragments and scrambled and everything was such a mess he figured he had really fucked up this time.

He took the effort to sit up, bringing his knees up and putting the pillow in his lap. The fluorescent lights still burned so he stared blankly at his arms, trying a simpler task of just getting what thoughts he did have organized. "Kcuf..." He mumbled, and it took him a moment to realize that something was off. He paused for a moment, "Tahw...I?" It took another moment of consideration before it suddenly hit him. His thoughts were scrambled because they were backwards. But that couldn't make any sense, could it? He had just been speaking backwards, though. He had been on a million drugs a million different times, but nothing had side effects like this. He was still slowed due to the morphine and all of this just frustrated and confused him, and he slammed back down on the bed but immediately regretting it as pain seared through his skull and he felt like he was back to stage one of waking up.

This time, Florence simply let himself agonize as he waited for someone to come in. He hoped it wouldn't take long.

"Ahh, the good doctah' is in the house."

Bruce was still hunched over Adam, staring him straight in the face, but as soon as Dr. De Note entered the room, he shifted his body and stared at him, still upside down. Adam then turned his head to look at the doctor, then softly said "Yes." He slowly began to get up, and was surprised to find that despite Bruce's massive size, he weighed just like an extra appendage that he would have been used to for his whole life. This was because Bruce could carry his own weight, and was now a part of Adam that emanated throughout his whole body, and not just from his back. It was also because Bruce was mostly ghost too, and ghosts don't really weigh anything.

Adam moved towards the back wall, legs feeling like jelly. He had no idea how long he had gone without walking but it had probably been a while. Bruce was still turned towards the doctor. "So, 'ows it goin' mate? I can see you like yer job, tellin' little girls like this one what ta' do, hehehe!"
Adam had his hands on the back wall, trying to stable himself.
"Shut up Bruce, just do what he says!"
Adam was pissed off. He accepted being taken to asylums so that he could receive help for his problem, and now his problem had been increased tenfold! Instead of switching between Bruce and Adam, he would have to deal with Bruce 24/7, and Bruce had claws now.
"You tellin' me what to do, mate? You don't have that authority anymore!"

At this point, Bruce was squeezing Adam's face, applying pressure in order to assert his dominance. Adam began swiping at Bruce's face with his left hand, sometimes connecting with little tiny baby slaps.

Jace, at the words of Dr. Note, stood back, relieving his grip on his shoulder. He formed a purposely intimidating smile on his mouth as he looked after the angry Dr. Note. "This is a place of work Dr Schwarzlitch not socialization.." His calm voice boomed in after him. "Why yes of course, Dr. Note. A place of work should be respected." Turning briefly to Dr. Watson, he found little satisfaction in the way Dr. Note had bossed her around and threatened her. "I wish you luck with your assigned experiment, Dr. Watson. Good Day." he said slowly, turning around and beginning to put on his hazmat suit. He felt his breath shorten and hasten ever so slightly at the tight suit, but he adjusted in a bit.

Now Dr. Note, what do we know about Weakness?

At length, Jace started walked along the hallways on his way to his duty. The bleached walls blinded him with a sick kind of taste that it welcomed him with in his mouth. Barren, pale walls. "You look how I feel," he murmured absently to them. So walls are beings now I can talk to? What, have I become that demented. Jace shook the thought off. He liked them. "I'm going to cheer you up with a little tune my little Sister taught me.." he conversed with the barren walls. He understood their silence, their steadfastness. Pulling his lips into an oval shape, he began to hum a tune that sounded much like a simplified version of the Dance Macabre. He had no idea where she has gotten that tune, but its become a habit of his..humming it. He matched it to his footsteps as his tune echoed along the walls, bounding off those doors.

He heard a slam. Stopping in his tracks, he woke up from his calmed state again. It came from that door. Squinting, he could make out the label #324. What, an experiment gone mad? He didn't see anything too suspicious on the monitors back then. Curiosity defeated him, and he crept over, sneaking a peek at the experiment. It looked tortured. Oh wait, it was a male. Who cares anyway, they're animals right?

Was Sophie an animal, too?

He walked on. Now, the walls seemed to stop being so friendly. He always itched himself when he felt claustrophobic. Lifting his arm, he reached over to his shoulder. Thump. Thump. The damn hazmat suit! His eyes began to droop. Let's get me out of here.

Pace increased, he made his way to room #937. Through the slit in the door as he pulled it open, he began to see the humanly shape of her. Jess Kirstein, as he had read on her profile overview. How should he approach her? What would she be like? And why on earth was he nervous?

A little notification made him turn around. So now I'm supposed to check on the dude I just looked in at? Fine. He was interested, anyways. Quickly checking his files, his stare dropped down on the experiment's name. Florence Jakobson. He traced his steps, and slowly let the door open. He stayed close to the door.

"Pleased to make your aquaintance, Jakobson. I am Mr. Schwarzlicht."

The first thought that crossed Dom's mind was, 'Is this one of those zombie apocalypse movies that I accidentally got casted for where the dude wakes up in hospital?' The second was, 'Shit, this light is bright.' The third: 'Now where the fuck is my food?'
When he opened his eyes, a lance of white-hot pain speared his head, going right through his brain. He winced, gasping slightly. He found that if he squinted so tight that he could see his eyelashes, he could kind of see. Except, as he so elegantly put it, 'But I still can't see jack shit.' Millimeter by millimeter, Dom opened his eyes, and even though the spear of pain had grown marginally weaker, it still took a good minute or two for his eyes to fully adjust.

He took a look around his room. It was all white, with very bright lighting, and he was lying in one of those hospital beds, with an IV stuck in his arm.
'Now', he said out loud, 'some crazy-ass motherfucker would pull that IV outta they arms. But I ain't a crazy-ass motherfucker, so...' And he leant back, closing his eyes. He could've slept for 30 minutes or 7 years, but either way he was still dog-tired. He wasn't out of it enough to not remember that he was in a different location, but Dom didn't take much notice. In the asylum, it had happened again, and again. He'd go to sleep in one cell and wake up in a whole new different area. The best one was when he fell asleep in South Carolina and woke up in Venezuela of all places. Because of all this, Dom didn't stress. He just sat back, and waited for something to happen.

The interaction between the doctors confused Emma. She'd thought they'd be friendlier towards each other. Or maybe Dr. Note was just as bad with social interaction as she was. It didn't matter. She had more pressing matters to dwell on rather than the moody temperament of scientists.

Hearing her name, Emma's attention was drawn to Dr. Watson. She was one of the few scientists Emma admired. She really had excellent composure. Emma didn't think she'd be able to keep a straight face after being brushed off by a colleague. She acknowledged the other woman with a weak smile before they both went to their separate wards, the dread slowly creeping up on her with each step.

It's going to be fine, she told herself, as she looked over experiment #447's file. I just have to make sure not to look him in the eyes. I can manage that. Shaking her head, she swiped her card and typed in the code, going through the process in a daze. She was still in a sense of bewilderment over her predicament. Was this really happening? Was she finally getting the 'experience' she'd always wanted?

It wasn't until the final door noiselessly slid open that she came to focus on the task at hand. She looked towards the bed to find it empty. Instead, her patient was lying on the floor, curled up into a fetal position, the long tube of the IV dangling uselessly near his bed. Emma's first instinct was to assist him from his position but she held herself back. It was advised that the doctors shouldn't get too close to the subjects until absolutely necessary. Besides, if she'd accidentally met his eyes while helping him up...well...that wouldn't bode well for her.

"Mr...Derium?" Emma spoke, her soft voice muffled by the suit. Was she even pronouncing his name right? "Relin?" she called a bit louder this time. "Are you able to get up on your own?" she added.

The new sound of clunky footsteps coming closer caught Florence's attention, and he brought himself to deal with the burning of the florescent lighting and the pounding migraine to sit up. It looked like the door to his room was opening, but was there more than one door? It was hard to see, but from the sound of it there was at least two. He was trying to see this as the figure came into his room.

Why were they wearing a hazmat suit? He had never seen a doctor, or nurse, linger near the door like they were doing now. These things were worrying him, though he noticed it was only a slight concern. As odd as that was, he wasn't going to complain about it. He assumed it was probably the morphine. Florence stared at the man, now Mr. Schwarzlicht, for a moment as he tried to collect all of his thoughts. It wasn't often he found people that used last names, but supposed the man wanted to remain their professionalism. He had never been fond of doctors and was trying to form first impressions about this one, although the man's attire combined with Florence's own situation made it difficult. A million questions ran through his head all at one time and he was hoping he could get all the answers soon. With previous experiences in hospitals, he knew those things didn't always come easy, but he could hope.

"Olleh..." Florence sounded like he had more to say but he instead trailed off ans shook his head. "...Hello." The word was small but even it sounded forced out, as if he had to concentrate heavily just to say it. "Gniraew uoy er..." He tried to fix the sentence he started but instead found it easier to run his hand in front of his face, trying to question about the man's hazmat suit. His migraine was too bad to even try to speak full sentences to the doctor. Of course, it was only one of many questions, but right now it was the easiest to sign for him. Did it make any sense? Most likely not, but he hoped the man would pick up on it. After all, doctors didn't normally come into rooms in hazmat suits unless something was seriously wrong.

He...he really wasn't paid enough for all of this. Okay, maybe it was a six digit salary, but right now it didn't feel enough as he watched the strange entity attached to the boy bicker with him, like children. At first he had been surprised, weary; that hadn't appeared on the monitors and it was about a few distorted limbs away from being as freaky as conjoined twins. Those claws didn't look all that friendly either. Now...now he wasn't sure what it said about him to feel such...annoyance brewing rapidly inside of him, standing there stiffly as this seemingly ethereal entity spoke to him with such crass and proceeded to abuse the one it was attached to. Did that count as self-abuse? At least the being seemed to possess some intelligence, being able to talk, albeit in a rather crude heavily accented manner. The therapist would probably have a lot to analyze from that.

Clicking his pen, he jotted down some notes on ethereal yet strangely physical manifestations, judging by how he stretched the boy's face, more curious than startled though his heart was still racing at twice it's normal speed. He would have to double check the files later, he was sure that only the boy's DNA had been altered, unless he had missed something in his report about cerebral alteration or any sort of implantation in the oculus, though, he hadn't really looked him in the eye walking in. This was an interesting development, if not an unforeseen burden. Turning back to the two, he cleared his throat, not willing to and not having the energy to let them continue on this nonsense.

"If you wish to understand your situation and leave your ward, then you will comply to all instructions." He said softy, eying up the ethereal bring dubbed 'Bruce'. He wondered if he was some sort of manifestation of the boy's defiance. "I have authority here, you may address me as Dr Note, Mr Long or as you shall now be addressed as, #774, remember that number. Now, if you would be so kind as to sit on your bed and lie still for your check up, think of it as a monthly doctor's visit.." He murmured, eyes sliding down to follow the sharp curve of the being's claws. He trusted in the structural integrity of his suit, but he didn't trust experiment #774 to be so docile.

Taking a breath silently, he approached the boy, looking to check his joints and muscles for any of the normal after effects of being under anesthesia, his vision and his sanity, "What was the last thing you remember, do you know who you are?"

---

A computerized voice spoke in Iesha's ear,
DR WATSON, EXPERIMENT #666 IS NOT READY FOR INTERACTION, PLEASE REPORT TO WARD #246 TO CHECK ON EXPERIMENT #246

---

He didn't stir when the door slid open, didn't even flinch at the voice cutting through the silence. Incredibly sharp it was, but it didn't really matter. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, mouth practically stitched shut, but questions weren't meant to be answered and he knew not to raise his head even at the sound of his own name. It didn't matter if he responded anyway, so he just closed his eyes and waited for some sort of cutting comment on his part, some sarcastic praise or snide remark. It didn't come though, not for a long while, so that was the game, huh?

His eyes snapped open, specks of iridescent light swimming in melted gold irises, reflecting back the light. Sparkling, they slid over slowly to the latest specter clad in the strangest of garments that he would not question, staring unblinkingly at it, such things...you should not look away or else you would find them gone when you looked back and then you would really start to question your sanity. He wasn't mad though, he knew it wasn't real..just another creation of the darkness come to taunt him, "Please, not tonight..." He rasped, voice weak and strained to a whisper, but unmistakably tired. Slowly, he lowered his head again, closing his eyes, "Give me a lie a little," He murmured though he knew that he was only wasting his breath, adding onto his sore joints and achy muscles. The gentle pounding in his head, the burning in his nostrils and the stinging pain that was slowly numbing over in his wrist.

Peeking out through his eyelashes, he glanced at his bleeding wrist and jerked up into a sitting position quite violently. Knocking the IV stand next to him. It crashed to the floor behind him, but he took no notice as he held his pale wrist up to the scrutiny of his gaze. His expression twisted into one of anxiety and shock, a tremble overtaking his scrawny frame as he watched the sinister beads of crimson well up under the added pressure, sliding down pale of his flesh.

The corners of his lips slowly tugged up, pulling back to reveal his teeth as he stared at the wound. His thumb pressing down further on the cut, "Its red.." He breathed out, "Its red." He repeated, gritting his teeth in a maniacal grin as he lifted his head and stared up at the specter, soulless witness to his suffering, "It's red!" A breathy chuckle escaped him, but before it could get out of hand, he pulled back his hysteria and took a deep shuddering breath. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he lifted his head and affixed her with a serious gaze, "Will I die?"

Adam/Bruce looked back at the doctor. By now, Bruce had gotten bored of squeezing Adam's face, and his giant claws hung down limp by the boy's body. As the Doctor told them that he had the authority, Bruce nodded, saying "I understand mate, I do. I just don't think this little Sheila's gunna listen to ya. She's a bit rebellious!" He then proceeded to give him a one handed noogie, which involved grabbing Adam's entire head in his hand and rubbing the top of it with his thumb. Adam began to try as best he could to pull himself from Bruce's vice-like grip, but since his arms also felt like jelly, it just ended up looking like pathetic, feeble flailing about. "Ya' gonna struggle mate?! Stop tryin' ta rebel! Bruce looked back at the doctor, who looked like he was obviously trying as best as he could to keep a straight composure. "So, numbah 774, huh? Izzat me? Him? We the same person, what?"

"Bruce, we gotta sit down!" Adam said, between spasms.
"Wait, mate, I still got some questions I want answered!"

Adam got down to the floor, crawling to the bed while struggle against Bruce's absentminded noogie-ing. He clutched the sheet, then tried to bring his leg up onto the bed, and then he climbed onto it with as much of his limited strength as he could. He then struggled with Bruce to get into the proper seating position.

"So doc, can you answer my question, please?" He rested his elbows on Adam's shoulders, and interlocked his claws, placing them in front of his face in a pensive pose.

DR WATSON, EXPERIMENT #666 IS NOT READY FOR INTERACTION, PLEASE REPORT TO WARD #246 TO CHECK ON EXPERIMENT #246

Iesha winced, clutching clumsily at the earpiece through two-plus layers of rubber. Since she couldn't figure out the volume control, she resigned herself to the migraine-provoking noise-level. Sighing, she quickly checked #666's breathing again before following orders, a scowl twisting the corners of her mouth. It irked her to leave a subject in unknown condition, especially one who had just experienced a seizure. A quick glance at the camera reminded her that someone, at least, would monitor #666 until she could return to finish her work.

Fast-paced footsteps filling the empty hall, Iesha hurried to her second subject, #246, one Domenico Silva: ADHD, probable-sociopathy, probable-Borderline Personality Disorder and the associated criminal record. She hesitated in front of his door. All of which should no longer persist. Even so . . .

Before she could consider this line of reasoning any further, she opened the door and stepped inside. #246 lay calmly on his cot, more or less exactly as they had positioned him. The thin scree of black hair over his skull added a hint of fragility to his docile demeanor. The IV still securely attached. Turning the page in her clipboard, she scrawled a few notes to this effect before returning her attention to the subject.

"Domenico Silva," she announced, closing the door behind her with a final click. "How are you feeling?"

Though her tone suggested sympathy, her face, protected by a thick pane of plexiglass, remained sharply attentive, her brown-black eyes moving quickly over the subject. It took her a few seconds to remember to smile, stretching her plump lips thinly over two rows of perfect teeth.

Emma was just beginning to believe that her subject had fainted, until she heard his raspy voice. She couldn't understand the words though, and moved closer to hear him, only to jump away when he knocked the IV stand away from him. Her heart was racing fast, and she looked down at the file for what seemed to be the hundredth time for any explanation for his behavior. He's probably having one of his episodes, she thought, her eyes widening at the realization. Would he grow violent and attack her?

"Its red.."

Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, almost forgetting to not look him in the eyes. She quickly looked down to his wrist, which was indeed bleeding. Remembering she had picked up a bag of some sort containing medical supplies during the fitting process, she looked to the corner to find that she had dropped it when she had jumped in shock. Picking it up, she produced some medical gauze and knelt in front of the young man, trying to appear as non-threatening as she could in a hazmat suit.

"No, you won't die while I'm here," she tried reassuring him. "Would you like me to take a look at it? I can help."

Dom kept his eyes closed, and his head down. He was still groggy, and he had a mild headache behind his eyes from the light. It was best to stay in the dark for the moment.
But he was aware there was someone else in the room.
The someone in question had just said, 'How are you feeling?'. How am I feeling, how am I feeling...
After a moment of thinking the answer through, Dom replied with a curt, 'I'm fine.' And then, reconsidering his position, he decided to elaborate. No point in making enemies of the staff on the first day. No point having more people around who pushed him too far, angered him too much, triggered too many episodes.
'The light hurt my eyes...so I got a headache, but it's not bad. I feel pretty tired, I guess, and I don't have a clue in hell about where I am, but all things considered...yeah, I'm good.'
It would probably be polite to look her- the staff was assuredly female, from the voice- in the eye, but Dom was feeling too woozy to be polite.
And then it struck him.
The last time he had even considered his manners had been...longer than he cared to remember. It wasn't that he was brought up badly, it was just, with everything going on he didn't care about politeness or what people thought of him. It was quite a surprise, and not wholly unpleasant, to think that his brain was thinking about being polite again. He wondered what had caused the change, but he didn't question the staff lady standing near him.

Suddenly, his right gloved hand, fitted with a pressure activated electric gazed pad, itched. Terribly. It was hilarity bordering on annoyance now as he painfully watched the boy struggle to get onto the bed, like a new born pup trying to get up stairs whilst his siblings clung onto his back like a tumorous growth. Infact, that was an accurate to describe the entity attached to the boy. Standing by, he saw no need to help the boy nor to get in the way of those sharp claws flailing about dangerously. Eyeing them long after the boy had gotten into a sitting position and the creature had settled down around him, before his gaze slid over to the crude mouthed creature.

His mouth felt dry and cottony when he tried to talk, so he took a moment to try and collect himself. Imagining that he was at a lecture again, this whole thing was just a science project he was explaning. Hopefully, #774 didn't see the hesitation, "Let me explain where you are, what you are now." It was unneeded, but he felt like the boy had a right to know at least, "You've been taken for a very special government project, consider it donating yourself to scientific research and before you say anything, it's legal. You gave your 'rights' to the state the moment you were admitted into an asylum. Now, if you haven't already noticed, several changes and alterations have already been made to you, currently we are as in the dark as you are about your new...abilities. More research shall have to take place, of course, as long as you comply willingly, no further measures shall be taken to restrain you. Of course, if you exhibit any of your previous ahem...'clinically insane' traits, then you will no longer take part in this project. However, seeing as you understand me, it's a good start."

He paused and extracted a syringe from a small pack strapped against the side of the suit, "Now, if you would just keep still whilst I take a blood sample, we can see about getting you into the common room where you can interact freely with your fellow...experiments. Unless of course, you still have any burning questions you need answer or require an aid to help you stand?" He murmured, eyes fixed to the sharp needle of the syringe as he wiped it with a disinfectant soaked cotton. Finding it easier to concentrate on the needle as he approached #774. Still a little confused exactly where he should stick the needle.

---

He was silent, staring with distant eyes at the specter as it leaned down to tend to his wound. Unrespondant to her question until a hiss escaped him at the stinging swipe of the medical gauze over his wrist. Instinctively, he jerked his hand away. Holding it gently against his chest as he looked up at the ghost, a feeling of numbness spreading through his chest. A chocked sob left him, eyes sparkling with saline tears...they rolled down his cheeks hotly...wait...His hand shot up to his right eye, "It's back...." How could this be? He had lost his eye when Edge had...Edge...Skylark, Sleipnir, Regnum...Noire

His hand darted out to grin the front of the suit, the material felt rubbery and cold under his fingertips, "Where are the dragons? Where is Edge? Regnum? What is this place?! What new form of torture is this?!" He cried, shaking the ghost, grasping onto what he felt was solid and real...Oh god, this wasn't a hallucination was it? This wasn't another trick on his mind was it? He didn't know which was worse. Letting the specter, whose human face peered through some thick screen, attached to an unnatural deformed body, he stumbled to his feet, "Where am I? What is this?" He questioned, panick began to rise as he realized the tight confines of the room he was in.

Jace squinted at the creature across the room. He seemed agitated by something. And quite violent. Oh so I get a hard one? Taking a step forward, Jace noticed that Jakobson was actually straining his eyes. What could bother him?

"Why so bewildered?" came his dark, low voice. "Is it...oh."

His gaze had wondered to the fluorescent lights. They really are a pain in the ass, aren't they? Walking over to the numerous switches on the wall, his hazmat suit thumping loudly, he switched off half of the lights in the room.

"That should do it. Feel better?"

Or not. The kid is a mess..

Well, forcing him to stand and take control of his body seemed useless. Jakobson really seemed to be in pain.

"Right. Let's cut the formalities. Call me Jace."

Thumping towards Jakobson, sighing slightly, he advanced until he was right beside the bed. If he had heard correctly, this boy had just spoken backwards.

Fascinating. I see why humans love to mess around so much.

As he observed him, Jace noticed that the experiment wanted to ask something. Backwards wouldn't work, but his intent staring gave away. There was one thing he was dying to try out though. The profile had mentioned something about 'Telekinesis'. A dream he had always dreamed as a child. But, ya gotta be nice.

"Oh. This suit is just for security measures. We don't want anyone to get hurt, now, do we?"

Jace slowly stretched out an arm to Jakobson, patiently waiting to see if he would swat it or shy away. If he was going to get him presentable for the common room, this seemingly crazy pain needs to be resolved first.

"Can I call you Flo?"