Badges of Dishonor

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Sucker Flavoured Punch, Aug 26, 2014.

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  1. Neo Sydney – Sector 14
    22:00 – June 19th, 2518
    Dropbear Detective Agency - Cryogenic Chamber

    The small and rather dark chamber held six coffin-like contraption just tall and broad enough to hold a tall and fit male each. The floor was foggy from the cold mist emanating from the only two coffin currently used at that time of night, the low hum of machinery nearly deafening in the artificial silence of the chamber. It was cold here, should any living being enter the narrow room used by the Dropbear Detective Agency of Neo Sydney, Australia, each coffin used only for the uninterrupted training of rookies engaged by the small agency. As the need for those were so far in between these days, it was no wonder that no one had bothered with comfort nor safety of the frozen recruits, and as such, when the two cryogenic pods released their captives, it was two very disgruntled and sluggish detectives that emerged in a cloud of frosted ozone mixed with gas.

    One of these recruits was one Zane Franklin, a young man approaching his mid twenties with a record that would have made every other agency turn him away. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the Dropbears were a strange lot, not putting much stock in social expectations and putting it all on cold hard results instead. That was why the newfangled detective was here, for if anything else, he brought results, even if they were neither expected nor wanted at times. A brusque and glum looking man with a brutish look in his eyes and a menacing grimace twisting his scarred mouth further, that one had the demeanour of a badly tamed wild dog, and seemed to take pride in it all.

    There was nothing but curses and a complete lack of grace to be found in the man that night, however, as he half limped, half stumbled from the slightly elevated coffin he had found himself stuck in for a month now. When they promised good training, that was certainly not what Zane had expected, that was to be sure! His half stumble leading him toward the oposing wall before he collapsed, the bulky auburn haired former thug ended up on his hands and knees, nearly managing to prevent a dry heave before he expunged the contents of his artificial nutrient-filled stomach on the steel tiles of the chamber.

    “Fuck,” he rasped softly between heaves, “that shit's not right, mate... urgh!” Ripping away the remaining cables and plasters sticking out of his naked torso, Zane winced in pain as blood briefly spurted from his new wounds before the later healed with the help of the various healing agents in his bloodstream. “Huh, could've had used that trick in my last knife fight...”

    Straightening himself somewhat so he was leaning on his thighs instead of the now filthy and still freezing floor, Zane took deep breath to stave the grogginess, sickness and strumming migraine he could feel all the way to the deepest part of himself. It was worse than any drug or liquors he had ever taken, far, far worse, and he was desperate to never go through this again.

    “Gotta find a way to earn myself a place with the higher up somehow...”
    His thoughts, said out loud with a baritone that was far more raspy than the usual gritty tone of his voice borne from many night of hard booze and screams, were interrupted by the thump of a body nearby, reminding him, vaguely, that he had not been alone in his torturous rite of passage.

    Looking at the woman now by his side, Zane rubbed the scar under his left eye roughly with a callused finger, looking at the mysterious woman before him up and down for all it was worth in the gloom and mist of the place before uttering a half grin at his companion in misery.

    “What a ride, huh, Doll?” Okay, that was quite lame, but he was out of sort, and the woman could find comfort in this small show of sympathy, could she?
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  2. In theory, cryogenics was one of the most potent technologies of the last few years; a miraculous way of cheating the time and a receipt to make every rich, narcissistic lady fighting against wrinkles happy. Its invention had been followed by headlines of various newspapers informing the eager readers of beginning of the new, golden age where illnesses would cease to be a problem and first steps towards discovering the secret behind immortality could be taken. Nelly Hathaway, one of the lucky trainees who had the immense honor of being stuffed into one of those human-sized refrigerators, didn't really share their optimism. Swimming in the darkness of her own consciousness, chilling in the emptiness and brushing against one of her memories from time to time wasn't so bad - narcotics-induced apathy prevented you from actually caring enough to even feel uncomfortable - but awakening certainly compensated for the lack of emotions, and they weren't of the warm and fuzzy kind. Her eyes snapped open few seconds before the lid of the coffin moved away soundlessly, just in time to remind her of her claustrophobia. Fear of cramped spaces, though, was a pretty low priority on her list of complaints when it felt like contents of her stomach tried to declare independence and a whole bee swarm had moved into her head when she wasn't paying attention. "Ugh," Nelly moaned quietly. That profound, eloquent statement almost drained away remainders of her strength, but that couldn't stop the young detective from attempting to make her muscles work correctly once again.

    The short, skinny woman in her late twenties with short blonde hair - the type you'd probably expect to find in a bar drinking like there's no tomorrow instead of in the middle of a hardcore training program - emerged from the capsule, her limbs shaking from the cold. Well, at least the limbs she still possessed; the only thing spoiling her party girl image was a pitiful stump in place of her right arm. The pseudo-doctors running this place had been pretty strict about this 'no metal in the cryogenic chamber' rule, so Nelly had had to say goodbye to her beloved piece of machinery. The loss of arm, despite it being a temporary thing, didn't really improve her sour mood much. Absence of familiar weight on her right side unbalanced her even further than the skull-splitting headache, and then there were complications resulting from possibly damaged relationship between her and her prosthesis. The general consensus was that machines couldn't have feelings, but Nelly considered this to be a gross speciesism. The fact they weren't so vocal and annoying about it like their human counterparts didn't automatically mean neglection didn't hurt their precious little... circuits.

    Climbing out of the coffin was almost as exhausting as conquering Mount Everest, only hardly as rewarding. A couple of distinctly unladylike curses left her lips as her feet touched the cold ground; everything about her body felt rusty and it wouldn't surprise her at all if she were to fall apart spontaneously. Identity of the bastard responsible for this torture was a mystery to Nelly, but she made an internal promise to track him down and let him know in no uncertain terms what exactly she thought of his methods, preferably through creative use of a taser. 'Training' my ass. That's practically the equivalent of saying: 'Hey, buddy, we're gonna train you for surviving serious car accidents. Now keep calm and lie down on the road so this vehicle can crush your bones.' This is straight out greenhorn bullying. When I think I could have spent that month in loving company of my family instead... On the other hand, experiencing how a zombie must feel right after it has been re-animated still looks like a much better alternative, Nelly thought as she unceremoniously tore down all the tubes from her veins. Small streams of blood immediately spurted from the tiny wounds, yet that didn't bother her half as much as the voice shattering the artificial silence.Even the greatest liar in the world would probably blush in shame if he were to label Nelly of all people as a social butterfly, and god knew she wasn't prepared to deal with human contact right now. The young woman started massaging her root of nose gently; despite their circumstances, she somehow managed to look like an English professor who had just spotted a heinous typo in a published book.

    "I guess it would kill them to have a bit of decency and give me some privacy. Nothing against you, mate. Poorly thought out one-liners are hardly a crime, even if they should be," Nelly stated with her usual dose of charm. "Where is everyone, by the way? I know we're pretty much dirt at our higher-ups' feet, but shouldn't they at least disconnect us properly first before we go catching lead for them?" Yes, it was fairly obvious the two were going to get along just great.
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  3. His attempt to be as friendly as he could in his situation having been thrown back in his face, Zane could not prevent his face to twist into another scowl as he glared testily at the woman before him. Would it had killed the bitch to be at least civil? It was not like a harmless pet name in passing was a come on, anyways, at least not in the former thug's book. Painfully standing to his full and rather impressive height, the auburn haired man did not feel anymore charitable to the rude woman before him as he experienced another wave of agony, far from it.

    “Whatever, bitch...”
    he rumbled crossly, slowly looking at his surrounding in hope of finding an exit, careful to not upset neither his head nor his stomach any further. Deciding to ignore the blonde before him, Zane peered into the dark for a few moment before spotting a fain ray of light in the distance. Figuring that investigating that light was better than to wallow in misery with an unsympathetic icicle, he firmly put a hand on the nearby wall and lurched his way toward the incongruous phenomenon he had spotted earlier.

    None too gently shouldering his way past the other rookie, Zane gritted his teeth from the wave of dizzy pain that action brought him and continued on, privately vindicated about having made his dislike clear to whom he now called 'The Bitch' in the privacy of his mind. He was not particularly misogynistic, and was indeed nearly a feminist in his good days, but tonight was definitely not one of these days. By a long shot. Wincing slightly as he felt his numb nerves slowly awaken in a discordant symphony of silent screams, Zane growled low in his throat, as if to scare the pain away, desperate as he was to find something to help his situation.

    All thought about his misery left him, however, as he reached what ended to be a door leading into a brightly lit room. Hissing at the pain issued by his suddenly blinded retinas, a curse flew from his lips before he had even time to think it, a jumble of threats and curses that he would not, could not reproduce later on without the proper emotions fueling them. It remained that when he finally adjusted to the light and pain, he say the utter bastard that had so callously lied to him about the last month of his life.

    “What was the big idea, you lunatic?!”
    He growled, voice too hoarse to scream like he wanted to.

    “Ah, Mr. Franklin, awake already I see, I assume yourself and Miss Hathaway are doing well, considering your slight... discomfort?”

    'Slight disc-' “Quit it, mate, I won't take your shit anymore, just tell me what to do to never go through this... this... hell, anymore!”
    As he said so, he tried to lunge at the smug ponce before him, a hoarse yell escaping his lips as he cursed up a storm.

    All of that was stopped when he suddenly found himself mellow and sedated, courtesy of a woman he had not noticed previously, her white lab coat melting with her bright surroundings and her quiet demeanour making her pass largely unnoticed by all but her employer.

    “Ah, well done, Mrs. Danover. I trust you won't need the same treatment, Miss Hathaway?”
    The man, a certain Mr. James, drawled once more to The Bitch.

    'Urgh... what shit did I get myself into this time?'
    Yet he could not bring himself to be angry, or even care anymore... and the pain and nausea and even the dizziness was gone...
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