Alice: Subject 624

“Why must it be so boring here?”

Alice stared blankly at up at the ceiling of the community room. Her knees were pulled up against her chest and she was curled up in a chair in the corner, holding onto the white dry erase board she used to speak with. She didn’t know exactly know how long she had been staring at nothing in particular, but knew it had been a while. Unfortunately this place didn’t offer much in the form of entertainment, not unless you were an absolute star when it came to your testing sessions. Much to her disliking, Alice wasn’t even a half star in the eyes of the scientists that worked here. Her powers were awesome, as she would say, however her attitude was the farthest thing from awesome. She was known for fighting, hair pulling, scratching, and slamming heads against tables. Hell if she didn’t have the mask she would probably be prone to biting people as well. Needless to say, because all of that she was doomed to live a life of boredom in a room that smelled funny and was full of people she didn’t like. It was a least a little better than being in her cell. Even if she didn’t exactly like most of the people here it was at least fun for her to people watch. With that thought in mind, Alice brought her gaze back down from the ceiling to the rest of the people in the room.

The person her gaze actually landed on made a wicked smile come to her face behind the mask. It was a slender man in a white lab coat, wearing glasses sliding down his face just a little too far. He was walking around with a clip board in his hand and was writing notes as he passed people by. When his eyes met hers an odd look came to the man’s face. It was almost like a look of fear, which to anyone else would have been odd since she was the patient and he was the experimental doctor. Alice tilted her head to the side slightly and wiggled her fingers in the form of a wave. The man’s eyes got big for a moment just before he whipped around and began walking in the other direction.

Alice laughed as she watched him disappear down the hall. The man’s name was Dr. Norman Sears and she always loved messing with him every chance she got. He had been one of her main doctors when she was 15 years old and had stupidly tried to rape her at one point. She had been a little more docile when she was that age and wasn’t required to wear her mask at that time. Alice didn’t even really know how to use her power fully at that time, so the idiot didn’t think much of it when he tried to force her down on an exam table. His buddy in security had cut the camera in the room to give him all the time he wanted. What he didn’t expect was Alice to latch onto him and scream violently in his ear. Luckily for him, the guards were able to get in a rip her off of him before his brained turned to mush. He obviously survived, but now he was completely deaf in his right ear and partially deaf in the left. She did well to leave her mark on him and now he hardly so much as looked in her direction. Apparently he knew just how close to dying he had been. Despite how much she liked to toyed with Dr. Sears she still hated every part of his being. In fact, she always promised herself that if she ever got this mask off her face that he would be the first person she'd hunt down to kill.

“Fucker..You won’t be able to run forever.”

Doctor Cranham (Sam)

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Eyes flicked across the many flickering lights before them, the flashing colors and ever moving pixels always followed by the eyes. The eyes belonged to the socially awkward and rather odd fellow known to his colleges as 'Dr.Cranham', though he honestly preferred 'Sam', feeling much to formal when being addressed by his last name. The doctor had been sitting at the monitors all night, observing the movements of the subjects, making notes of their behaviors and anything new. He did this quite often, often losing sleep over it, but he was rather fond of coffee, so this helped solve his tired demeanor and hide it from the other researchers within the facility.

Sam was always on the look out for sudden or odd changes in the subjects, waiting to see if the experiments had produced a side effect that might prove to be potentially dangerous, a newly gained power or ability, or many other outlying factors. He honestly was there just hoping that at some point, one of the subjects would demonstrate one of the signs he had been looking for since he had first taken the job, which involved a sudden feeling of youth, and endless energy, but so far, nothing as extreme as the symptoms he hoped to induce into the test subjects. He had been splicing genes from more then just animals at this point, splicing genes from past deceased test subjects, along with plants, and just about anything he thought might produce the goal he held in mind, but many of the serums he had crafted, he was hesitant to use on the test subjects.

Though that was all they technically were to the higher ups, they were still living beings to him. Sam hadn't been with the project for as long as some of his co-workers, only a few years, but he had been there long enough to accidentally be the cause behind some of the mutations caused with the subjects, and although most of them were fine as of now, he still felt somewhat bad about it.

Movement catching his attention for a moment, he stared at Subject 624, otherwise known as the living microphone, or just Alice to the less formal, watching as she struck fear into one of the other researchers, seeming to take great enjoyment of it. He smirked lightly, taking a note down to keep a closer eye on her in case she tried anything funny, as she had before. He watched her for a few minutes more, and when nothing else occurred, his eyes moved to another monitor.

Subject Double O Seven was sitting in the window frame of the library, she seemed to be both in deep thought, and reading at the same time. He blinked a few times, rubbing at his eyes and reaching over to the desk, lifting his coffee cup up to his lips, taking a large sip from it. Subject Double O 7, as he had jokingly referred to her once, or Beatrix, as she often said her name was, was one of the more unnerving of the test subjects in his opinion. This didn't mean he didn't like her, she was a decent girl, mostly anyways. It was her power that made him nervous.

Dreams were an odd thing, even science couldn't fully explain them, that couldn't fully be comprehended, and she broke every rule in that regard. She was one of his favorites, as she was one of the few with a possibility to live ten times as long as the average human lifespan, if not forever, but the dream sharing thing was something he could not and possibly never get over. It was a reason he rarely slept. He wasn't fond of the idea of another roaming through his dreams.

Taking a note to speak with her later, he resumed monitoring the subjects.

"Subject 616 is unresponsive to inflicted pain, we have increased the voltage to 200 milliamps." A voice belonging to a man by the name of Dr. Folger spoke out, scribbling data onto a paper placed on a clipboard. A recorder sat on the desk before him, taking in the information he spoke out. His eyes shifted to look through the two-way mirror in front of him, inside was an all white room with a chair in the middle. Restrained in the chair was a girl, youthful in appearance with a blank expression. Her skin was riddled with burns and lacerations, however they were slowing disappearing as time went on. This was something most subjects were capable of, self-healing minor wounds was something that made testing a lot easier. "Dr. Fitz, please enter the testing room and remove 616's gloves. Bring a dummy subject in for her after." The man spoke again, a much older looking scientist following his orders. Dr. Fitz would enter the testing room that contained 616, his body concealed by a heavy duty suit. His own glove clad hands would remove the gloves that encased 616's hands and abilities. Before exiting, the man would pause. He stared at 616's features, his own face contorting into a pitiful expression. The emotionless state 616 was in was enough to make anyone uneasy... But becoming distracted was dangerous. "What the hell are you doing Fitz, get out of there before she hurts you!" Dr. Folger's serious tone broke Fitz's moment of weakness, he shook his head and cleared his throat before exiting the room.

A few moments would pass before the heavy door slid open once more to reveal a bony, almost skeletal figure. The figure was riddled with scars, cuts, bruises, and other horrible wounds. He lacked muscle and fat and trembled uncontrollably. This was a dummy subject, a lesser subject used as a punching bag for more prominent subjects. The door would close behind the shaking man, his eyes darting around the room in a terrified manner. 616's restraints would retract, allowing her the ability to move around freely. However, she would remain seated, eyes locked on the wall in front of her. The dummy shuffled to a corner, cowering with his knees pulled tightly to his chest.
"P-Please.. don't hurt me..” The dummy pleaded with 616, but she remained silent, dismissing his presence entirely for what seemed like forever. The dummy opened his mouth to speak once more but was interrupted by the shifting of 616. Her attention would finally be on the dummy, her electronic eye's black color coming to life with a deep crimson glow. Her lips would purse and before the dummy could speak, a bloodcurdling whistle rang out through the room. The dummy subject opened his mouth to scream, but instead a wave of blood poured out, the same occurring with his eyes, nose, and ears. He clawed at the floor desperately until his fingertips were raw, grabbing at his ears and hair in a vain attempt to block out the noise. His body would flop onto its back, seizing violently on the floor, a pale pink foam frothing at his lips. This was all logged by the scientists, the red color in her electronic eye, something they had never seen nor programmed, likely created by 616 herself. As soon as the whistle had begun, it ended, the dummy falling limp and lifeless in a pool of blood and other bodily fluids. 616 blinked twice, returning her attention to the wall in front of her as if nothing had even happened.

"Splendid job 616, you will be rewarded additional free-time.. please stay seated and we will get you an escort to the main level." Dr. Folger spoke over the intercom, praising 616 for what she had done. It was such an odd dynamic, kill someone with your powers and you are rewarded... Fight a scientist with your powers and you'd be punished. Of course they were protected, as if they were so much more important than everyone else. 616 stayed still and was soon gloved once more and brought to the main level of the facility where she would be permitted to have her free-time. 616 was unable to enjoy the outdoors as a reward, her powers lacking enough data to know whether or not she could be entirely restrained while outside. She had only been out a handful of times, and each time she was forced to wear a heavy suit made of the same material as her gloves. It was hot, she felt suffocated and didn't even get to enjoy the cool breeze or the scents the outdoors emitted. She often declined the outdoors as a reward now, unwilling to wear that horrid suit.. Instead she was given gifts or treats, things like additional free-time or sleeping time, an extra meal. On one rare occurrence she received a dress as a reward. It was her favorite article of clothing she owned, they weren't allowed many and often had to wear plain white smocks or hospital gowns. 616 wore the dress almost everyday unless it was being washed. She adored the way it hugged at her figure, it fell like liquid, clinging to her skin perfectly. It had lace trimming and intricate details, yet was so simple.

For her free-time, 616 made her way towards the study. At the entrance she would pause and examine those within briefly before entering. She found her spot in the reading nook by the window. It was a small cushioned bench attached to the window that allowed her a comfortable place to daydream. 616 sat facing the window, pressing her finger against the thick glass, her finger like a paint brush, smudging little doodles on the surface of the glass. 616 shifted on the cushioned bench, moving so that her back was now against the glass. Her eyes would flutter shut, curtaining her vision as the warmth of the sun embraced her back, lulling her into a tranquil state. She had recognized a few of the faces within the community room with her, other subjects she had been around for years. However, she had spoken little to no words to any of them.. She didn't like people, they didn't like her. It was easier being distant because it didn't allow connections, with no connections you'd feel no loss when said connections were severed. There was one person in the facility she allowed herself to be "human" with. A man that had tested on her several times for a very long time, the creator of her whistle... although it had been entirely unintended. She didn't trust the man, but she liked him and the attention he gave her. He was much kinder than the other scientists and it made her feel a sense of security whether she admitted that or not. He was someone she confided in often, telling him how her abilities made her feel. She had once revealed to him that she enjoyed the pain her whistle inflicted, unable to comprehend what pain really was but enjoying the results nonetheless. He was one of the only people able to listen to her and not become uneasy by her lack of humanity. It was refreshing, everyone needed an outlet and he seemed to be hers.

616 inhaled softly, eyes flicking open once more. The preset blue and green of her electronic eye was now a soft violet hue, pulsing and shifting with intensity. It seemed her daydreaming had impacted the color of the eye, something she was unsure if she had control of.. While her brain and body lacked emotion, it was almost as if the eye contained all of her humanity which was quite ironic seeing as it was an electronic.

Cassidy rubbed the back of their neck. Their body ached all over. Their morning had been spent locked away in one of the laboratories with a scientist they did not recognise. After so many years, Cassidy had thought they ought to know all their tormentors by sight if not by name by now, but somehow some had still managed to escape their notice. Truly, this place was riddled with more men and women in white coats than any of the subjects would have known what to do with; some days it felt like they were a cancer, spreading in to every aspect of the subject’s lives.

Cassidy did not have a harmonious relationship with the authority to say the least. Cassidy was not designed for large scale attacks, otherwise they would certainly have tried by now to take the facility out. Some of the other subjects had tried. None of them had ever got very far.

More than anything, Cassidy wanted to go outside right now, to feel the warmth of the sun and the breeze through their hair. This facility offered no kind of life to its subjects and so the only place that Cassidy ever truly felt alive was out in within the limited nature they had access to. Sometimes, if they closed their eyes, sat in the low branches of a tree, Cassidy could even pretend they were free.

Unfortunately, the morning tests had not gone so well. They had not been a complete failure, but nor had they gathered the results the white coats had wanted. As such, Cassidy had been denied privileges to go outside. They called it ‘an incentive’ to do better in the further testing that Cassidy would be subject to this afternoon. For now, Cassidy had been granted some amount idle time, which amounted to little more than an extended break.

At least the scientist had been decent enough to brew a peppermint tea for Cassidy before they left the lab; a sort of ‘mini reward’ for the tests having at least been going in the right direction. Cassidy would have preferred the chance to try a coffee that the researchers were always drinking; it always smelt so damned good. But, as with every element of a subject’s life in this place, even food and drink were restricted. The scientists could not run the risk of the caffeine in the coffee skewing their results or, worse, making the subjects more volatile and less malleable.

So peppermint it was. Cassidy had no real love for the drink, but it was something and anything that offered a new or unusual sensation was always welcome. Cassidy’s grip on the mug tightened as they spotted a particular soul entering at the other end of the corridor. Dr. Arceneaux. If Cassidy still had the ability to speak, they would have spat venom in the doctor’s direction; not that they needed too. The sneer on their face said everything as they walked past.

Cassidy felt particular disdain for the Frenchman. The two had rarely worked together and, from what the other subjects said, Dr. Arceneaux was one of the better researchers to have around. Still. Arceneaux worked with cybernetics. Cassidy’s free hand subconsciously shot to the metal plates at their throat.

The bastard that stole my voice.

Cassidy shook their head; there was no point in fixating over the man, at least not now, not when they were not forced to interact or be in the same room. Cassidy stopped outside of the door to the common room, taking a moment to peer in. It was one of the busier rooms, with both subjects and scientists alike going about their daily business, whatever that entailed. Cassidy lent against the door jamb, sipping at their tea. Cassidy loved to stand back and observe; having been rendered mute had only given Cassidy more reason to do so. Sometimes Cassidy felt like they were invisible (even though they were not); if you stood silently enough for long enough, people forgot that you were there.

Cassidy’s dark eyes roamed the room and eventually stopped on a blonde, curled on the other side of the room; Alice. Cassidy frowned; they did not exactly pity the woman, but she, too, was not allowed to talk. It was a strange kinship they shared.

Hey. Cassidy projected their words across the room, directly in to Alice’s mind. From this distance, Cassidy would have had to shout, had they had the ability, to be heard, so at least there were some advantages to telepathy. Cassidy could speak to someone and no one else would be any the wiser; after all, how could two mutes communicate across such a distance? If anyone were to look over they would have seen Cassidy stood, drinking their tea, eyes wandering; very much the image of nonchalance. You looked pissed off. What’s got your goat this time?

Tristan stretched his arms above his head, leaning back in the chair. He had been stuck in here for hours, going through paperwork and collating data. He had been up and in his office since the subjects’ doors had been opened and while his colleagues were running tests and other, far more fascinating, scientific activities, Tristan was sat in this small room with nothing but a brightly lit monitor to keep him company.

Tristan stifled a yawn. It was an unfortunate necessity of research. Without it, a lot of the practical side of things was unusable for one reason or another. Tristan had been working on the cybernetics for Subject #940’s arm for the past eight days and had finally resigned himself to the fact that the data he had collected, really did need writing up sooner rather than later.

So that was today’s thankless task; still, the sooner it was over, the sooner Tristan could return to doing the research he loved.
Tristan lent forward again, tapping more numbers into the database open on the computer, a rhythmic ‘click-click’ of the keys filling the small space. After a few minutes, one hand still typing, Tristan reached out to the papers on his desk, rifling through them.

“Merde.” Tristan muttered under his breath, turning his full attention to the pile of papers. It quickly became apparent, however, that whatever the doctor was looking for was not to be found here. Tristan sighed, running a hand across his weary features. There was a book that he had been referencing that he had somehow misplaced.

Fortunately, whenever books were found lying around (it happened more often than you might expect) they were returned to the staff library. Unfortunately, a quick online search showed that the book in question was still checked out from the library, in his name no less. Sometimes, however, staff books were mistakenly placed in the subjects’ library; this book was unlikely to cause much damage in the hands of the subjects, so Tristan would not be surprised if it had been incorrectly shelved.

The doctor locked the computer and pushed himself away from the desk, taking the time to stretch out each of his stiff limbs. He had been sat here for a long while now; the excursion would do him good, and it would benefit his eyes to look at something other than a monitor for a while. With a plan in mind, Tristan left his office and made his way from the staff quarters through to where the area of the facility that the subjects had access to.

Tristan was walking down one of the many identical, white corridors when he crossed paths with Subject #642. If looks could kill, that glare would have made Tristan drop dead mid-step. Despite the animosity, Tristan greeted Subject #642 with a smile and a nod of the head as he would with any other person here; staff or subject. Tristan was not about to let the foul mood of one subject dampen his affable demeanour; if he did, then the doctor would have become a twisted and bitter man years ago.

Tristan did wonder what spurred Subject #642’s hatred of him though. As far as he could tell, he had only worked with them twice (as the research on Subject #642 was outside of his specialty), during their very early years at the facility, before they had been made mute. Tristan still remembered when he heard about the decision to remove the subject’s ability to talk; he had been opposed to the idea, saying that it had no scientific benefit as it would not enhance the subject’s abilities. All it would do was distress the subject and waste valuable resources. The surgery had gone ahead regardless; as Tristan did not work with the subject his opinions were considered ‘less informed’.

Soon enough Tristan found himself at the subjects’ library. With any luck he would find the book he was looking for here. If not? Well, at least he got to stretch his legs. Besides, Tristan liked the sedate atmosphere of the library; it was hard to find elsewhere in this place.

When Tristan entered the library he noticed that two of the subjects were already there. Subject #007, a red headed woman who had been at the facility longer than Tristan, and whom he had never had need to work with; and Subject #616, an emotionless shell of a human (and Tristan could hardly blame her), whose throat he had operated on.

“Bonjour mesdames,” Tristan spoke, with a wave of his hand and an amiable smile, walking over to the nearest bookshelf, “how are you two beautés doing today?”

Doctor Cranham (Sam)

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It wasn't often that he forgot things, but Sam had been losing sleep lately, and it had made him lose track of more then a few of his personal belonging's more then once in the past few days. He was slightly more sluggish then usual, not that he was a particularly hyper kind of creature to begin with. Sam was an individual of composure, at least when he needed to be, which was often. Most of his fellow researchers had either not seen the difference, or they were far to busy testing the subjects and devising new tests for their little "Lab Rats" to endure.

The young man often thought they were a little rough on their test subjects, but there wasn't much he could do to object to them. They had been given specific orders to carry out, and many couldn't see a reason to "Be Humane" to the test subjects, because in the end, even if he hated it, that's what they were. Test subjects.

Although Sam had no way of stopping his co-workers from being so cruel at times towards the test subjects, he did his best to try and be as pleasant as possible to any of the people he preformed his tests on. He did still refer to them as people more often then not, because that's what they were, and to him, these people were also the future of mankind. He just needed more time to focus his efforts into creating the right mixture of genes, and of course, possibly the right tests.

Doctor Cranham may have been one of the many who conducted tests on the subjects, but his were usually relatively simple. Lift something heavy, run on a tread mill for a while, run laps in the larger testing areas, and having them test their powers on various objects and small creatures. Although using small animals was a somewhat cruel thing to include in any of his tests, he needed to analyze every angle of what the test subjects had the capability to do. Although the test subjects were often sedated, drugged, or simply restrained, and against the wishes of the security force and several of his closer comrades, he often would find himself delivering items for the subjects to test on himself.

Some called him crazy, others suicidal, and most a fool who constantly broke protocol, but he merely said, if we don't test their power on people, what's the point? He knew fairly well of the main intentions of the facility, but his intentions were his own, and although he'd nearly been booted from the project once, they kept him around. His risk taking helped further their research as well as his own.

His foot steps drew to a halt, as he paused his forward motion, his wandering mind somehow remembering exactly where the Study was. Muscle memory was a fabulous thing. His foot began it's journey forward, but he was halted in place by a shout from a nearby source:

"Hold up for a moment there Doc!"

Spinning around, Sam located the source, an other wise generic looking guard, on a bee line straight for him. He waited patiently for the guard to stop before him, and gestured for him to be out with it.

"Doctor Cranham, I'm sorry but you can't be in there without an escort," He had paused for a moment, quickly scanning Sam's name tag before addressing him. "The Study is currently occupied by one of the freaks."

Irritated, and his patience already worn thin, as he was still remotely tired and wanted to get back to his coffee, Sam made a gesture towards the Study entrance. "Well then I guess you'll be having to join me then. Hurry up."

In no mood for any further time constraints, he stepped into the Study before the guard could make any further protests, and began scanning the area. If his memory served him correctly... it was on that desk... wait no, the chair. He looked over both spots, picking them clean, with no luck. Perfect.

With his bag of test tubes lost somewhere within the study, he was going to hunt for them. The guard was following him, trying to get an explanation as to what he could possibly be searching for, and if he needed assistance. Oh he needed some, but not from the gun toting moron whose only purpose was to shoot anything that disobeyed orders.

His eyes wandered across one of the only occupants of the room, and he felt himself smile internally. It was nice to see the test subjects when they weren't what they were there for. Just trying to do something human. Reading was one of their only past times, that they had available inside, alongside doing nothing, as she currently was, but reading was one they escaped to often, as books were a temporary portal away from the cruel reality they lived in. He began to approach her, the guard making a move to follow, but he waved them away.

"If I need you I'll call for you, stay put." With that, he swiftly approached the lone woman, whom he recognized to be Subject 616, the illusionist. He knew many of the test subjects by title, but he often tried to learn their names, though not all of them remembered or wanted to tell.

"Greetings Caelia, I see you look well. Enough." His tone wasn't exactly cheerful, nor hostile, but it gave off a twang of 'Very good to see you alive and well' vibe with a hint of his fatigue, though he hoped that she wouldn't notice. "I'd love to chat, but first I have a question," He paused for a moment, making sure the guard couldn't hear him and then said in a lower tone:

"Have you perhaps seen a decently sized brown shoulder bag around here? I've misplaced it and I can't quite remember where I put it. I'd also rather not have to feel indebted to one of the gun goons if they find it, so I'm trying to keep this on the low down."

Sam knew the guards were in the facility to assist the scientists, but many of them were arrogant jerks with little brain and a superiority complex, so he detested working with them. He much preferred the subjects, mostly because they had more reason to be rude to him.

The room was filling rather rapidly, subjects and scientists alike spilling into the study to converse and mingle. Caelia's expression shifted slightly, the corner of her mouth creasing in thought. She didn't like masses of people, one person was enough but multiple of them just sent her brain in a anti-social frenzy. The lithe girl pressed herself closer to the cushion she sat upon, pulling one knee up to plant her chin on. A familiar voice registered in her head, causing her eyes to scan the room, landing on Tristan. If she had regular emotions, she would have smiled, but that did not come easily to her anymore. Sure she could fake a smile, plaster a faux grin across her face, but it would never be genuine, not anymore. Instead Caelia blinked once or twice, watching the man walk into the study, his mouth moving to speak to those in the room. Again her eye began pulsing, the color fading into another set of varying hues and tones. Tristan wasn't exactly a friend, but Caelia sure did prefer his presence over most of the other researchers. Her view of the man was soon interrupted by another figure, his voice shaking her from her thoughts. Caelia glanced upward, her features falling still and blank. She knew this man as well, he was another scientist, one she had likely worked with, who knew, she sure as hell didn't.. She had lost track of who she'd done testing with years ago.

The man spoke about a satchel he had lost that contained something he clearly wanted to keep under wraps, said satchel however, was not something Caelia had seen. The girl tilted her head slightly, moving her head from her knee, shifting to the edge of the cushion she rested on. Her glove clad hands formed into fists, clenching and un-clenching slowly as she listened to the man speak. She gave the room a brief scan, offering a simple shrug, something she commonly did rather than speaking. Caelia could definitely communicate verbally, but her preference was not to, she rarely used her voice, doing anything she could to avoid it. Seeing as the man seemed desperate and she had nothing else to do, Caelia stood from her resting spot, slithering past Doctor Cranham to give the room a sweep. It was quick, lazy and lacking effort, she would soon return to the man and offer another shrug before sitting in the window nook once more.

"Dunno Doctor.. sorry.." The words were emotionless, slow, her voice was soft however and was laced with a deviousness only some would notice. Caelia stared at the doctor, a deceitful smirk playing at her lips. While she rarely felt emotion, the girl was very capable of acting, almost as if she felt a type of joy towards being a devilish girl. Caelia rose her hand, tucking her hair behind her ear before slouching comfortably into the reading nook, turning her attention back towards the window that led outside. She blew at the glass gently, leaving a spot of fog where she would use her finger to trace out a frowning face with x's for eyes. Caelia returned her gaze towards the doctor, raising her hand to point a finger-gun at Cranham, mouthing a silent "pew" followed by a devilish grin.

Doctor Cranham (Sam)

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Well then, so much for that. Still. he'd gotten some interesting reactions out of Caelia, so at least that hadn't been a total waste of time. Her reaction was certainly fascinating to say the least, she almost reminded him of several of the people he'd gone to high school with. So little emotion, next to none at all really, they sometimes acted in odd or bizarre ways to entertain themselves, or mess with those who would bother them. The scientist knew when he wasn't wanted around, and Caelia had every right to shoo him away. He was one of the many who kept her contained, subdued, and restrained. This was her free time, who was he to get in the way of a basic human right in his opinion.

After all, basically asking another to leave them in peace during break hours was a standard human emotion, should have also been added to the bill of rights. Shame really.

A small chuckle escaping Sam's lips, he nodded to the girl with a slight grin. "Well then, thanks I suppose for scanning the area for me, I suppose I'll find it eventually." Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a fair sized candy bar of a non-descript nature from it, keeping it out of sight of the guard, as he passed it over to the subject. "For your time, enjoy the rest of your day."

Turning his back, he began his steady movements away from Caelia, giving a small wave over his shoulder. " Just in case you're wondering, that's out of my pay, hasn't been tampered with." Sam sighed internally, he had been planning on eating it himself, but the girl had gotten to him, hm, if he didn't know any better, he'd think she'd used mind manipulation on him and told him to give her the candy bar. Ah well, he was to nice for his own good sometimes anyways. His movements brought him past several other occupants of the room, another test subject and one of his colleagues, he considered asking them for a moment, but realized they seemed to be about to leave and decided better not to impede them. Broadcasting some catchy montage music he'd once heard in his head, Sam began searching around the entire lounge, delicately picking apart the entire area.

Nearly half an hour would pass before he manages to find his bag, and it's location was stuffed behind one of the many desks, as part of a little prank by the security force. Sam was not amused. Several of the guards would later find a potent virus within their food, confining them to their beds with an illness for a few hours before several members of the virology team located an anti-virus that lifted them from the places they were confined to.

It was a good day.