(Trigger: bladed things involved in this post). [@Gonzo][@banjoanjo][@HellHoundWoof][@Lillium][@Thundercrash][@SheriffLlama][@wolverbells][@HecateProxy] [centre][h1]GM Post[/h1] [h3][i]Two weeks later[/i][/h3][/centre] "Ding dong! Gooooood morning everybody and welcome to another day of training! We're going to spice things up a little bit as you've made so much progress in your group sessions. Please report for your individual session as normal today. In the meantime, enjoy breakfast!" Time being difficult to measure in such a place, with no apparent movement of the sun and no real nighttime, besides that designated by the facility coordinators, the month they had been in the facility (again, according to the coordinators) felt like an age to the residents. By now they had all grown thoroughly accustomed to the schedule, the occasional and perpetually upbeat announcements from everybody's favourite Head Researcher before and after every meal and once again in the 'evening' to remind them to get a good night's sleep; chivying them to their coaching sessions or the group session and sometimes just some random piece of information. As a group they had all noticed their own, and others', advancements. First came the understanding and appreciation of their power in its basic form and from there came the practising, controlling and developing. The group sessions had enhanced the practice, not always in a combative role and sometimes became a discussion group on how best to proceed with input from the coaches. All in all, with the facility's sumptuous facilities, ample food and supportive coaches, the place was becoming less... bad. [hr] [centre][color=6ecff6][h1]Arthur Ragnarson[/h1][/color][/centre] [color=6ecff6]"Alright, I'll see you guys later. Gisela prefers to start earlier rather than later."[/color] Arthur waved to those assembled in the cafeteria, the early wakers and the still-asleeps alike, before heading towards the interview rooms. It was strange how familiar the monotone walls of this facility had become, how easy it was to wake up to the same routine everyday. He wouldn't go as far as to say he was [i]enjoying[/i] the time spent here but it had certainly been a novel experience, to say the least. In the past month he had seen things that he would have thought belonged only in a superhero comic and had come to understand his own ability. A couple of weeks sparring with Uriel, or rather, letting himself be hit, had made him realise his power protected him from pain to some extent as well as accelerating healing. Now it took barely a couple of hours for any small bruises to heal and he received them less frequently, there was also very little pain and certainly no aching. Of course, more serious injuries would take longer as it was all relative but nevertheless, he was pleased with the progress. Even with Uriel inflicting the world's worst hangover migraine on him, the pain went away pretty rapidly. The only thing was his power didn't appear to extend to illness. The last three or four days he had felt nauseous, although less so each day. At first he thought it was just a passing cold or flu, or maybe some food he had prepared badly but the consistency had been odd. In the end he put it down to the stress of first arriving here and, when his body relaxed a little, the after effects catching up with him. His thoughts on and review of the last month had wiled away the time on his way to Gisela's room and before long he was knocking on the door. "Ah, Arthur? Come in!" The same as every day, Arthur turned the door handle and walked in, shutting the door behind him. Gisela was sat in her normal seat, legs crossed with the same clipboard she seemed to carry everyday placed neatly in her lap. "How do you feel? You said you were a little under the weather the other day." She looked concerned. Arthur liked to believe that they had formed a mentor-mentee bond recently and had almost discussed some personal matters. Almost. He wasn't ready to cross that bridge just yet. [color=6ecff6]"Better, thank you. Must have just been a bug or something."[/color] Arthur smiled and took a few steps towards his usual chair. Gisela was nodding, writing something on her clipboard. "Good, good. It won't interfere with the results then." She nodded over Arthur's shoulder. There was a crackle, a sharp touch to his back, blinding pain and then nothing. When he awoke he found himself bound to a chair in a room he had never seen before. The surfaces were all metal, cupboards lined the wall and he could see through the glass cabinets rows of bottles marked with hazard symbols as well as test tubes and syringes. Files were stacked on shelves and he could just about make out the names of a few of the others' on the spines. One file was open with several stacks of paper spread across a nearby metal desk. [i]I'm guessing that's got my name on it.[/i] He couldn't see anyone but there were definitely people in the room. There was the occasional clatter of metal on metal, footsteps and the low murmur of a few voices. The large light above him made it difficult to make out much that wasn't close by, as if he were in a spotlight and the rest of the room were in darkness. Footsteps began to approach and then he was surrounded by a few scrubbed up people, presumably scientists from the facility, looking down on him. One of them checked the restraints on his wrists, ankles, legs, arms, head and torso while another shone a small light in each eye before disappearing, Arthur assumed to write down whatever he had seen. Someone was wheeling a metal trolley in from his left and he somehow doubted they were just tools for dentistry; the young Brit doubted anyone hated having their teeth prodded enough to require all these restraints. Then there was the manner of his being brought here. [i]They tasered me! The hell is going on? I can't keep up with all this.[/i] The trolley was manoeuvred close by and caught the light a little. True fear began to spread and his heart began to beat rapidly in his chest; for on the trolley he could see small circular saws, scalpels, forceps, syringes and other assorted blade and tools of surgery. One of the scientists sorted through the array of tools, picking up the circular saw and testing the electric feed to it. They spoke and he recognised the voice of Gisela, his 'coach'. "Test subject Arthur Ragnarson, classified as Regenerator. We begin the first session with an incision on his chest, one inch deep to begin with, to see how rapidly the body defends itself. Please make sure the rapid capture camera is deploy appropriately. To ensure there are no variables we will be conducting this test without anaesthesia. For clarity, the subject has recovered from toxins previously applied. Let us begin." Arthur began to involuntarily struggle against his restraints but found himself barely able to shift, his eyes unable to point anywhere but right at the arm reaching towards his bare chest, a hand applying pressure at various points before apparently settling at the desire place. The buzz of the small saw began to sound. And then contact.