Member No.: 3
Joined: 20-June 09
Time, what is time, the constant cycle between light and dark within this void? What is this place, anyway?
Such were the thoughts of this man. He had lost track of time, he didn't know how much time had past. He really knew nothing about time other than simply what it was. He didn't know much about anything really. He only really knew what things were, including his name. Or, atleast, what the all the people in white called him while he was in that building: Johan Mikkonen. Though he keeps trying to remember who they were, where he was, where he is now, there was nothing. There was a familiarity about his surroundings, but no memory of ever previously being there. The earliest he could remember was an explosion, flickering lights, and people calling him Johan.
"His vitals are all over the place, I've never seen readings like this!"
"His leg, it just twiched!"
"Does this mean..."
"We have to slow his heart rate, get me a sedative! Johan, can you hear me?"
Pain flowed into his arm, he threw his arm to get rid of it and sent the doctor flying. He felt restrained, there was a bright light his eyes, he wanted it gone, wanted to get out, be able to move. Dread Locks flew around the room in a fury, smashing lights, knocking things over. Whatever held him in place was gone now, the light shattered. He jumped up from the medical bed, chemicals mixed with blood, there were five bodies strewn about the room.
Who are these people? Johan... Am I Johan?
Questions rushed through his mind as he fled the building. The sun nearly blinded him as he stepped outside, people ran around frantically, he had to leave. So he ran, he ran until he couldn't feel his legs, and then he kept running. If anyone or anything got in his way, he threw it aside.
Johan now found himself sitting on a park bench, he looked at the trail of destruction he left behind, mostly in a strait line. Flipped over cars, holes in the sides of buildings, but he couldn't stop for too long.
He had to keep moving.
Reeve tried his best to ignore the mass destruction littering the streets. Cars, cracked concrete, even some buildings that had holes punched in them.
Barely an hour ago, he had received a call that had requested his presence immediately at a certain rendezvous point. Minimal details about an experiment gone astray had been revealed, but Reeve had no idea what was expected of him nor exactly /what/ had screwed up exactly. The mysterious caller, a middle-aged man, had simply told him to meet at a certain address.
"Hey! Anyone there?" Reeve shouted from ten yards away from the building. He didn't know if there was some kind of maniac in there, seeing as how the trail of destruction seemed to lead right to the now-mutilated entrance. "You need help?"
"Behind you, young fella."
Reeve spun around, almost face to face with a forty-five year old man in a smart business suit. "Who are you?" he demanded, although he thought he already knew.
"I called you earlier," the man answered cheerfully. "Did you see any of the others while you were coming here?"
"Others?" Reeve repeated questioningly. Over the phone, nothing had been explained in-depth, and certainly, no mention of 'others' was ever made. And Reeve was not a team-player. "No."
"Well, that's not a problem. While we're waiting, I'll just get your things from my car." The man made a beeline for a parked, black car just fifty meters away. He opened the door to the backseat, and he hefted a large crate in his arms containing numerous gadgets. He returned at a leisurely pace, ignoring Reeve's obvious impatience. "Here, Mr. Litkins, hold this for me. Young folks like you have more energy than I do," he chuckled. He handed the crate over to Reeve, who complied reluctantly.
"So, now what?"
"Now, we wait. For your partners."
A grunt left dark colored lips as hazel eyes surveyed the damage. There where holes every where and cracks in the concrete. Whatever-- or whoever had done this much damage was pretty strong and Aimz wasn't one to be cought off gaurd.
She was looking for the guy who called her. Telling her she had a job and that she had to get here right away.
Away from her hotel room on one of the many islands around the mainland. She knew her little break wouldn't be long but she would've at least liked an extra day or two but no matter. A job is a job and she needed the money. Cat food was getting expensive, Aimz mused as she stared down at the small feline.
"Yeah, yeah. Lets just find the dude." she whispered to the cat. It probably would've been easier if the man had actually bothered to give her a place to meet but... she couldn't complain. It would make her look bad.
Not that she cared much how she looked. Decked out in army boots, slightly tight pants, a comfortable top with an array of buckles and straps not to mention her little cloak. She was good for whatever sort of weather given to her.
Walking over some broken bricks on the side walk Aimz spotted someone. Two someones. Two someones actually and they were near a very nice looking car.
"What do you think, Duscha? Think thats the guy?" Aimee asked the cat not taking her eyes away from the two.
"I don't believe you know my name. I'm sorry the phone call was so hasty, but with teh seriousness of the situation...Anyhow, my name is Sloan Wilhelm."
Reeve grunted disinterestedly. He was wondering if he should actually give a real response when he turned his head to the approaching newcomer....with a cat? For what godforsaken reason would someone bring a /cat/ along on a job for the Mordes? It wasn't looking good, he mused. He sincerely hoped that the stranger would not be his partner, but some lost civilian.
Unfortunately, this was not so. The middle-aged man nodded affirmatively. "I spy with my little eye...Madamoiselle Blanchefleur," he chuckled.
"What? She's French? Great. We'll do a lot of the running away thing thing, then,'" Reeve joked, tying to atone for his earlier rudeness. For all he knew, his behavior during this mission might influence his chance for a promotion.
"The French had their share of military glory, Mr. Litkins. But I do appreciate the odd joke here and there," Sloan said cheerfully as a wide grin split his face. "But perhaps you should be a bit more tactful with Miss Blanchefleur - we don't know if she's a sensitive one or not. Women can be quite nasty when they're scorned, you know."
"Madamoiselle Blanchefleur!" Sloan called to Aimz. "Over here."
"Madamoiselle Blanchefleur! Over here." The older of the two males called out to Aimz.
She had to admit it made her cringe a bit on the inside. She was more used to hearing her mom called that then herself. Of course, that was to be expected since Aimz mom never married. She just got really drunk, had a kid, and then raised Aimz as best as any single mother could.
Duscha went on ahead and Aimz followed a little more slowly. She wanted to give herself enough time to look the two over.
The younger man obviously wasn't a body gaurd so... Aimz bit back a mental groan 'A partner? I thought this would be a single job... he never mentioned anything about partners.' Oooh, that old man was sneaky.
He even looked sneaky.
But enough of him. Aimz went back to the younger man. If the look on his face didn't scream 'I-don't-want-a-partner' his body language did.
Reaching the two, she ignored the younger for the older. Afterall... he was the one who called her. "Good morning, sir." she said with no emotion on her face.
Duscha was a little bit friendlier and walked around the two men. Eye'ing them carefully but still head butting their legs wanting attention.
Aimz spared a little glance down at the cat. "Hush up babe. Go scavage for rats. There are probably tons of them scurrying around in this mess."
That time she didn't bother being selective with who heard her thoughts as she projected as loud as a person who could speak would.
'Cats. They could be so difficult.' Aimz thought, turning her eyes back up to the two men as Duscha scampered off.
"Hm...Domesticated animals as pets," Sloan remarked. "I never got along with them, but it looks like your cat is friendly. Miss Aimz, my name is Sloan Wilhelm," he said, extending a hand for her to shake. "And this fellow over here is Reeve Litkins. We are still waiting for just one more person."
Reeve grunted. Another partner, then?
"Mr. Litkins, Ms. Aimz," Sloan said sternly. "I am well aware that you are both lone wolf-types, but this mission is best handled in multiple hands. You will get along with each other and your other partner as best as you can, and there will be no negotiating that point."
"That's not a problem - as long as we don't get in each other's way," Reeve replied, surreptitiously directing the statement to Aimz as well. "I'm sure that we function best when everyone keeps to themselves and out of the way."
"But that's not the point of having a team mission. Everyone must work /together/ to procure the best results. Especially in this case," Sloan added cryptically.
/Great/, Reeve thought to himself. /That's so cheesy/
"Hm...Domesticated animals as pets," the older man remarked. "I never got along with them, but it looks like your cat is friendly. Miss Aimz, my name is Sloan Wilhelm," he said, extending a hand for her to shake. "And this fellow over here is Reeve Litkins. We are still waiting for just one more person."
Aimz grinned, flashing off her pearly whites. "Well, Mr. Wilhelm, they also serve as great spies and are easily over looked." she replied shaking his hand. It would've been rude if she didn't.
"And this fellow over here is Reeve Litkins. We are still waiting for just one more person."
Aimz nodded, shooting an almost annoyed look at Reeve after he grunted. Obviously someone would be difficult to work with. Not that she cared but oh.... Sloan was talking again. She should probably listen.
"... aware that you are both lone wolf-types, but this mission is best handled in multiple hands. You will get along with each other and your other partner as best as you can, and there will be no negotiating that point."
Another nod from her, she wouldn't complain. A job was a job, she just didn't like working with people she didn't know. Especially the sassy ones with an attitude problem.
"That's not a problem - as long as we don't get in each other's way,"
Even though Aimz was smiling on the outside, she mentally wanted to turn and strangle that tanned neck. Jeeves, or whatever his name was, made it seem like if the group screwed up it was her fault. Like she'd ever let that happen. She'd sell all her healthy organs on the blackmarket before that ever happened.
"I'm sure that we function best when everyone keeps to themselves and out of the way."
"Pfft. Seak for yourself." Aimz muttered telepathically and quietly to herself. 'At least I can pretend like I don't have a stick up my rear and actually be decent to people...' she continued to herself. Not sharing it out loud. It'd probably make the situation even worse.
"But that's not the point of having a team mission. Everyone must work /together/ to procure the best results. Especially in this case," Sloan added cryptically, ignoring Aimz little comment.
That, sounded eerily familiar. One eyebrow raised, Aimz could've sworn that Sloan stole that line from one of those movies she saw as a little kid.
Probably was. He looked like the type to use a movie quote.
"So are you going to tell us the mission or do we have to continue and wait for the last arrival Mr Wilhelm?"
It might've sounded rude but she was pretty positive she wasn't the only one who didn't want to be there.
Shifting her weight to her other leg, Aimz fiddled with a knife she had hidden in her belt. She kept her hazel eyes on Sloan, waiting for an answer.
Sloan looked around the general area, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "I would have liked to have waited for Mr. Petrescu, but it looks as if we will be in for a bit of a wait. I'll go ahead and give you your materials first. Hopefully, Mr. Petrescu will show up." He gestured to the crate full of gadgets that Reeve was holding and motioned for him to set it down on the ground.
Reeve complied only too happily.
"This here" - he held up a black case - "are tracking devices. I daresay that two intelligent people such as you two will figure out how to remove the adhesive and stick it on something - or someone." He held out two, one in each hand, for Reeve and Aimz to take. "This might be something you're more familiar with. Cellular phones, and the latest too. You'll know how to use them, I hope." He held out two also, leaving the third still in the crate. "And...syringes."
"Syringes," Reeve repeated. "Knock-out syringes?"
"We prefer to use the term ' tranquilizers,' Mr. Litkins," Sloan offered delicately. "They're awfully...convenient," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I happen to find them rather useful in times of crises."
Great, Reeve thought unhappily. Isn't that reassuring?
Aimz shrugged. Some people were just born late and some just had no sense of direction. Either way, she was glad she didn't have to wait for Mr. Petrescu.
Shrugging as she too what Sloan was giving her. She had a little practice in using tracking devices. Not on actual people but there was always a first time for everything.
"This might be something you're more familiar with. Cellular phones, and the latest too. You'll know how to use them, I hope." He held out two also, leaving the third still in the crate. "And...syringes."
Again, she took what was handed to her. Now that both her hands were full she pocketed the cell phone freeing one hand and put the case of tracker in a pouch just big enough for it to fit.
But the syringes... that caught her attention.
"Syringes," Reeve repeated. "Knock-out syringes?"
Aimz stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Reeves question. It was kind of a stupid question since after all... what other kind of syringes would they be given.
"We prefer to use the term ' tranquilizers,' Mr. Litkins," Sloan started delicately. "They're awfully...convenient,"
Aimz raised her eye brow as the old man got a twinkle in his eye.
"I happen to find them rather useful in times of crises." he continued.
"I've always wanted to tranquilize a person..." Aimz said after a little moment of silence between the three of them. It wasn't a lie either. She really did want to tranquilize someone with rohypnol or one of the many other knockout drugs.
Oh well. Now she got her chance to. Shrugging, Aimz let out a little grin.
"And the assignment, Mr. Wilhelm?
"There was a rather serious mishap in that building overthere. Or, rather, what's left of it." Sloan pointed to the demolished building the trail of destruction led to.
"Yeah, I was going to ask about that. Did someone get mad and," Reeve made a chooping motion with his arm, "trash the place with a crane or something?"
"Close, but actually, the building is the origin. We were...experimenting, and the test subject fled. We have reason to believe he is currently in a mentally unstable condition. He is very dangerous as it is, what with his strength - "
"Strength?" Reeve asked. He usually didn't interrupt others, but this was getting interesting.
"Yes...Resith. He, ah, won't be in a wheelchair, though," Sloan let out reluctantly. "He has regained function of his legs."
Reeve thought it out for a moment, then realized exactly what Sloan had said. "Damn!" he exclaimed. "Damn!"
Sloan nodded. "We Mordes are making progress. Soon, there will be life-changing discoveries made, and we will accomplish our purpose. But!" he interjected, "We need to retrieve the experiment. His name is Johan Mikkonen. We must have him back. He can't be more than a day's travel from here. But do not expose yourself to needless danger. He may lash out in self-defense, and we don't want to lose either of you."
Reeve shook his head absent-mindedly, and then realized his mistake and nodded. He was stunned. His entire life, he had not exactly regretted the fact that he had a prosthetic arm, but only because he felt it was a good trade for his powers. What would it mean for him if he could have both a normal arm /and/ his powers?
"Well?" Sloan smiled. "What do you think?"
And now we continue.