Digital Scions

[Daz]

< Axel Kernan - toXic >

[spoili]

[/spoili]

'Charles' stalking off made things a hell of a lot easier: now Axel didn't need to put any work into turning someone into a meat-shield! Rather, 'Charles' had decided of his own accord to be the first to face whatever dangers were down the hall and to take the brunt of any surprises. Truly 'Charles' was a selfless individual, doing such a kind thing for Axel. There was no time to thank him for his altruistic action, however, since Axel's attention was soon taken by a fluffy looking guy calling himself Chris. Mimicking Axel, Chris lent against the wall besides him, giving Axel the distinct impression this guy was pretty impressionable. If his inner-self was as cute and naive as his exterior Chris would be perfect for Axel to make use of.

"We could just share our numbers, to communicate between groups. Chris seems to want to go with you, so if Holiday doesn't mind, she can come with me. Howzzat sound?"
"I am usually not one to give orders, so my suggestion is we find them before anything happens to them or before we split up. This place feels much more "off" than just a kidnapping game to me. Any opposition?"

If Chris and Holiday were as passive as Axel believed they were then Axel could probably get the deciding say in the decision as to whether or not they should split up, if he wanted to. Before he was able to voice any kind of opinion, though, Holiday began hyperventilating, a noticeable expression of alarm on her face. Mentally kicking himself for not considering this before, Axel was reminded that not everyone here would able to handle the stress of their circumstances well. Supposing that Ben and Holiday went off alone together and Holiday started to freak out again, then pair would be extremely vulnerable to the unknown dangers of the environment. Worst case scenario, they would both die; if not, they'd likely be injured. Believe it or not dead and injured people are a lot less useful in action, so Axel would rather not gamble away the well-being of two members of their already small group.

"I think we should stay as one big group like Jojo said, for now," Axel declared "Until we have a better idea of what we're facing and what everyone can handle, we shouldn't take unnecessary risks."

​

 

[BrattyCommissar]

This other intersection Isaac arrived at didn't seem to hold anything as nefarious seeming as what was contained within the supply closet- though a glimpse in the direction of what were likely windows changed that perception. Beyond them into the depths of darkness extended a ocean of red and blue, desynced from each other as waves of each crashed back and forth like an alien sea. And within that sea, figures beneath the waves, the glimpses of outlines, moved betwixt bolts of pure light rocketing between it and a corrupted breath of air above.

Fortunately, unlike with the void beyond the shelving unit, the windows here did seem to be very much present and offering some barrier to the realm that existed outside of this facility- and yet knowing how far that sea seemed to stretch, it made little sense how this could exist alongside the darkness beyond the wall in the other room- surely they would overlap, and the sea would flood into that abyss with time?

Yet, they did not.

The clarity of the impossibility of this location would sink in like an uncomfortable stone into the chest, pitting down towards the stomach, until it rested deep in the bowels like a growing ulcer.

This place should not be.



Upon the tables of what seemed to be an 'office lounge', there were many things that would have appeared to be scraps of paper and files and folders, but an attempt to actually move them would reveal that fingers simply slipped on through them, leaving only a glitching static to cover it briefly before it returned back to its normal state of decay. Most were impossible to make out anything- what could possibly be gleaned from them? Would it even be worth the effort…

The television in the corner bristled with silent static, or so Isaac would be unable to hear it, as the itching that had worked its way into him before would intensify, and spread out. The core matrix of the augments embedded in him would begin to heat up, bathing in the light of that rear projected box, as the very screen seemed to be trying to reach out of its confines and into the room.

Hanged along the wall, however, were something far more tangible. The papers and fliers there had an authenticity that denied their appearance, in just the aura they exuded. Yet despite the clarity that seemed felt upon gazing them, they held no information. What was it then, that made them stick out as surreally real amongst all of the rest of this room?



"P E R M I S S I O N D E N I E D. A C C E S S D E N I E D. R E T U R N T O Y O U R C U B I C L E, N O W," the figure spoke to Sigmund, before reaching to grab its knife. It gripped its hand around it and as the handle was pulled out, the knife blade seemed to lag behind, slowly rising up to join up with the handle as it lifted upwards. With the blade visible, it was as if all light was dragged screaming out of Sigmund's vision, the place becoming dark asides a glimmer of light from the blade, and the sickly glow of the screen that made up the figure's face. The blade swung downwards, lagging behind again seemingly embedded in the figure's hand, and giving Sigmund a choice moment to react by jumping back.

But it was unnecessary- the figure hadn't reached far enough forward to stab into Sigmund with the swipe, as instead the knife blade continued on down past the handle and into the ground. The figure jerked his arm backwards as if he were ripping something apart, and the blade followed like a hot knife through butter, ripping a hole into the floor that shown with a great light up at Sigmund who found the very surface he had been standing on pulled aside by the tear and the world open up beneath him.

And. He. Fell.



When he landed, the scenery around him didn't mirror anything he had previously seen. It was apparently an entirely new room, and he had no real way of telling which room on the map- if it were on the map to begin with- that he now occupied. He had landed, seated in a chair of a cubicle, likely the one that the figure demanded he returned to, but how could one return to where they had never been?

More concerning beyond that, when Sigmund would take a look beyond the cubicle, the room seemed to stretch infinitely onwards forwards and back, a limited number of cubicles in each row- four lined up, then an empty space to travel between rows, followed by another two- but no end to the number of rows in either direction, and no sight of a door or exit otherwise. Perhaps most pressing, came the noise of something else in the room- a deep breathing like a large beast, corrupted in the same static noise that omnipresently clung to all audio within the office.

Whatever that was, couldn't be friendly…

 

[Aero Blue]

It became apparent quite quickly that Sigmund's brand of diplomacy was inadequate. Muscle memory and trained reflexes found themselves hampered by the obscura of the strange; light and colour sapped away from Sigmund's field of vision. The blade remained, opening a fissure. There was only a split-instance for Sigmund to realise that this automaton of severe and severely blurred disposition was, in fact, cheating, bending this ambiguous reality itself. Of course, Sigmund was just a player - this guard was part of the test, the game, just like the blackness beneath him.

So, yes, he fell.

Upon his landing, he perceived a soreness of the ass and the unfortunate sight of cubicles. Sigmund was not a claustrophobe, per-say, but found the endless square prisons intimidating in their way. Sigmund was a former hit-man, after all - precisely because he hoped to avoid 9-5 work in places such as this. Furthermore, Sigmund noted the terrifying paradox of the cubic expanse; it was large, and unending, and in its endless space became all the more constricting. And the breathing! The breathing of some ungodly creature that all at once reassured Sigmund with the knowledge that he was not alone.

And then terrified him with the very same.

Sigmund had a philosophy that historically worked well for him in high-stress scenarios. He was task-oriented, and left the results up to fate. So; commit to the task at hand, and let fate choose between life and death. He sought to utilise the phones and computers - only to be met with static and brain-itching that yearned for a subsequent lobotomy. Allowing himself an exasperated sigh, Sigmund moved from cubicle to cubicle, finding solace in what he believed to be true; the cyber-phenomena may have made many an impossible thing possible, but surely it could not render this prison truly infinite?

So he moved further down the row of cubicles, taking care to note his distance from the sound of the beast.

 

[Vyzwx]

It didn't really bother Ben that there wasn't very much assent to whatever he suggested. Heck, if any of the old horror movies he's seen were any indication, staying together was probably a better proposition. "No opposition on this end; I was just suggesting what I thought might be fast, but I guess that was a bit rash, given that not all of us would have self-defense skills. Sorry Chris, gonna have to vote against splitting up at this point."

@Vanilla @Enthriper​

He did give Holiday a nod though, exchanging numbers with them. "Thanks! Looks like most of everyone else wants to stay together, but... Are you okay?" He'd noticed them hyperventilating, if nothing else. "Do you have some kind of medical condition?" He was only addressing them now, as it seemed like everyone else is occupied by coming up with an actual plan of action. He hadn't heard Holiday earlier when they talked about their augments acting up, trying to step up (and failing miserably at that).

@chaosheart13​

 

[Starlighter]

[fieldbox='Isaac Ziegler/Zai, CadetBlue']
Isaac relaxed against the wall with his eyes trained on the floor, forcing himself to breathe slowly and regain his composure. When he finally felt calm enough to face the world again, he gradually raised his head to inspect his surroundings. His eyes were instantly drawn to the bright red and blue outside the window on the other side of the room, and he winced, turning to look away from it. The constant, imprecise movement was enough to make him start feeling ill. Worse still, the sinking feeling of the logical impossibility of the place was dizzying, and the itch that had started earlier had become even worse.

Despite that, there were other things in the room that demanded his attention. Being careful to keep his eyes diverted from the sea and scratching at his head, he approached the table in the middle of the room. He leaned over and reached out to line up the folders, but the moment his fingers touched them, they passed straight through. Annoyed, he clenched his jaw and moved past the table toward the TV. The angle of it was irksome, as well as the fact that he felt quite sure the sensation of the static spreading out from it was interfering with his augments, causing the unbearably increasing heat inside his head.

He tried shifting the TV to sit in a more acceptable position, but when it didn't move at his first attempt, he leaned in to give it a closer look, wincing from the static. Seeing that it was bolted down, he did his best to ignore the angle and instead focused on finding the power button. Once it was switched off, he took a deep breath and tried to relax a bit.

The last thing in the room that piqued his interest was the bulletin board. A portion of it (what his sputtering augments could be bothered to re-order for him) was acceptable, but the rest would have to move. There didn't appear to be anything of interest written on them, so he went straight to trying to align them properly.

To his surprise, rather than being as intangible as the files on the table, they were quite solid - but bound together as a single entity. A slight tug, and the whole of them peeled away from the wall like a door, revealing a cavity. He held the door straight, and peered inside. All that it appeared to contain was a bucket. He touched the edge of it with his fingertips and tipped it towards himself, revealing a chain covered in oil. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he set the bucket to the side and pulled out the chain.
[/fieldbox]

​

 

[chaosheart13]

@Vyzwx

Holiday jumped a little when they were being addressed by someone else. "Uh...I'm fine now," they said as they rubbed the back of their head sheepishly, "My augs weren't working for a moment. They seemed to be working now, though." They sighed. "Need these things to see and hear, can't afford to let them break right now..."

They crossed their arms again as they listened to the conversation going on. They were still a little unsure of what to make of the situation at hand. Nothing made sense. They would have asked to see the map if the girl holding it hadn't kept it with her. They scanned the people with them. They weren't sure what to make of the people here either. Maybe time will tell what wouldm happen, who knew?

 

[Vanilla]

- - - - - ✰ Hana "Jo" Jo ✰ - - - - -​

[imga]http://i.imgur.com/XbMLPLQ.png[/imga]

So much going on at once. So much chaos. A huge mess. Eventually Hana would have to realize everything going on. With the two who had trailed off alone, the one seemingly starting to panic, her thoughts on Axel. All of it just added up to the simple phrase "pain in the ass." But she was simply to deal with it and try to get some sort of system going along in the group. "Alright then, it's settled. If need be, that one-" The smaller girl pointed over to Holiday. "-can stay here until we find the others. I don't want them under any more stress than they need to be if something is wrong. Someone staying behind with them would be best, I'd like to think. Whoever goes with me, we will find the others and head back here to actually come up with a plan rather than bolting off to who knows where."

With a light sigh, Jojo turned to open the exit door and walk, not really wanting to have to waste any more time talking of things. Granted she was an apathetic girl she didn't want any unnecessary injury. Or worse. So the faster they could find the missing two the better. Though as she was nearly out of the doorway she stopped and turned her head back into the room. "Oh, if you do decide to stay here and something goes wrong while you're here, just remember to take three rights to get to the big room. The way this place is made up I don't think we should really travel any other way unless we have to. Otherwise I guess it doesn't really matter.." And with that she would take off walking down the hall.​

 

[BrattyCommissar]

The group had finally set off from the hallway, heading right down towards the same path that the others had taken before splitting up even further and one getting unusually lost along the way. Which unfortunately meant getting closer to the source of the smell and noise in front of them. The raging torrent of filth kept on unabated, a backdrop of nonsense within a nonsensical realm.

And then the man stood there, the officer with the distorted screen for a face, pixels seemingly sunken into the greys whilst simultaneously popping. The very space of the face of the officer defied reality, and that knife remained holstered at his hip. He stood there, a smile slowly spreading across his face, like one who has come upon great opportunity. But, there was only the one of him, surely they could overpower him, right?

He raised a finger, wagging it back and forth, "A H, A H, A H. J U S T W H E R E D O Y O U T H I N K Y O U A R E G O I N G?" he chastised, taking a step forward to be closer to the group, "A R E Y O U L O S T?" He stood, unblinking, the eyes wide as the phoney grin remained plastered on his apparent features. "E M P L O Y E E S A R E N O T A L L O W E D O N B R E A K U N T I L T H E I R W O R K I S C O M P L E T E D," he clarified, giving a rolling shrug of his shoulders, one of his hands beginning to drift to grip at the knife.



Meanwhile, in the room of cubicles, the sound of the behemoth seemed to become louder no matter which way that Sigmund moved, a most disconcerting thing if there was one- meaning either it was moving to him, or simply getting louder, or worse things yet.

And then, it rose.

Almost two rows cubicles seemed to rise up, a shuddering groan from the environment as they did, the splintering of wood and the crashing of monitors and equipment falling from its place to the ground in a clamour. Limbs, like the many arms and legs of normal humans of different ages, races, and genders held up the mass beneath the cubicles, that began to arch outwards like the wings of a beetle, before clutching back around the mesh of cords that all seemed to grow out of it. Two cameras, lit with red, protruded from the nest of wires, and as the many limbs clung to the ground as they could it walked like a triumphant winged centipede, scuttling into the hall and dragging the electrical equipment that had fallen off the desks with it, the wires and cords keeping it all together. Each monitor crackled with light and images flooded across it- apocalyptic visions as the speakers mutedly screamed in agony and the creature turned down the passage amongst the rows of cubicles to look upon Sigmund with its gleaming red eyes.

It then lout of a chittering roar, like the crash of speakers into decay by their audio turned up too loud, with the cacophony of agonised electrocution.



Yet, meanwhile still, the television back in the room with Isaac turned back on, without the accompanying static. Instead, the click of power into it preceded the sound of silent speaking. Isaac's ears would itch and burn with such fervour as words poured into them like molten iron. And then the television would turn back off. With that second click, the itching would cease, the burning would fade, and the ability to adequately tell what transpired around him would come too.

Further along the bend of the hall past this point, now had a web of cautionary security tape woven back and forth- something to block the way further?

 

[Aero Blue]

After traversing past row upon row, the clamour of the beast and its eternal reverberations simply would not diminish. Its ominous call loomed over Sigmund like a particularly obnoxious harbinger of unfortunate happenings. It seemed appropriate to wallow in terror, although Sigmund was certainly not the wallowing sort. He was, of course, content to lament the rumblings of the monster, in a four-word mantra; "Shut the fuck up."

It would, most unfortunately, do nothing of the sort.

The ground screamed as the monstrosity arose in its entirety. Sigmund turned to look, his base instinct of fear congealing with a sort of wonderment. The chimera was, well, not a chimera, for it seemed to lack any inherent pattern to its construction. There was no beginning, middle or end to it, simply more. Legs in no position to run, arms in no position to reach, yet all there nonetheless. More frayed wire and less viscera, it inspired marvel as much as it did disgust.

That inspiration took hold for but a fraction of a second. The instinct for flight wrested hold of Sigmund's facilities, and compelled his legs to move. So he did, with no more rhyme than the word 'go' and no more reason than to extradite himself the fuck out of there. Perhaps Sigmund reasoned - however unconsciously - that the large, unwieldy form of the cyber-pede would not handle changes in direction well. Two rows down, and then Sigmund turned left, maintaining top speed all the while.

 

[Starlighter]

[fieldbox='Isaac Ziegler/Zai, CadetBlue']
Isaac winced and dropped the chain, grabbing the bucket instead and pulling it over his head. But it did nothing to block out the sensation of liquid metal pouring into his ears, or the sound of voices that should not be. He yelled in pain, but while the words persisted in their invasion of his consciousness, he registered nothing else.

It felt like far too long, but finally the words stopped. Feeling mildly ridiculous (and incredibly glad that he was alone) he took off the bucket and put it back in the cavity. He gave his head a good shake, forcing himself to focus on the real world once more. His next thought was to switch off his augs; they weren't doing any good really, and the glitching was getting on his nerves. That done, the sight of the mess the chain had made on the floor produced another wince. He lifted the chain and deposited it next to the bucket, laying it out in a straight line as originally planned. Finally satisfied, he shut the door and turned his back on it. There wasn't really anything he could do about the oil all over him, so he put the thought out of his head and looked for something else to focus on.

He instinctively looked down at the scattered papers. They were painful to look at knowing that he couldn't move them into more orderly positions... but fascinating in a way they hadn't been before. Just as prevalent as the compulsion to move them around, there was another feeling. One much harder to define, almost ridiculous in existence - but unmistakable all the same. Curiosity was enough to make him walk back to the tables, his focus trained on those impossible, simple and yet not so simple non-objects.

Unsure whether he should expect something to happen or not, he spoke softly. "All of you, become one."
[/fieldbox]

 

[Daz]

< Axel Kernan - toXic >

[spoili]

[/spoili]

Pushing himself off the wall Axel strolled off with the group, humming a tune to himself as they made their way down the corridor. Even knowing peril could be right around the corner Axel was still in a cheery mood; a whole new world of discovery and excitement had just appeared in Axel's lap, ready for him to exploit and manipulate. Perhaps the rest of the group didn't have such an optimistic take on things, but at least the officer before them seemed to know what it was about- that ravenous grin screamed that the officer was raring to eat the group up. Had the circumstances had been different Axel may have even invited the man out for drinks, if that was possible- Axel wasn't sure what the officer was, what with his pixelated face. All Axel knew was that he reallydidn't want to mess with this guy.


"Sorry 'bout that, but we're busting for the toilet. Don't want'a get distracted from work by something as silly as that, right? We'll be back to work as soon as we've gone, promise," Axel bullshitted, hoping that there was a non-violent way to diffuse the situation.
​

 

[BrattyCommissar]

Honestly, it really shouldn't have worked, but it did.

This sentiment found itself true in threefold ways across the enclosed and impossible area that the divided group found themselves in. Each in its own unique and uniquely bullshit feeling manner, the groups advanced through what shouldn't have worked. Not even one bit. Impossible, improbable, unlikely, true-



Honestly, it really shouldn't have worked, but it did.

Isaac would have been able to marvel as his command found itself quickly obeyed. What had been impossible material, floating rather than laying like an overlay upon a program- a visual artefact that needed correcting- the files upon the table began to shift and shimmer. They folded themselves, like origami, and slid to and fro merging with one another. Each sheet, each file, particularly folded without even a hint of precarity as they joined less like parts moving through another, but rather the blueprint of furniture self assembling with parts notching themselves into actual slots in place.

In the end, what appeared to be a not so tiny cockroach made of the impossible items flitted its wings and turned to look over at Isaac. Of course, it had to have resembled a bug. It was a bug, it had been one before it took on this new physical form. Even though it lacked the normal physicality of insects, holding only to its form, the way it moved echoed an uncomfortable authenticity. It was a roach, it was just simply his roach.



Honestly, it really shouldn't have worked, but it did.

The office security person, if they could even be so called, slowly moved his hand away from the blade and after a moment of the screen dimming relit to what had been normal and took a step back, "T H E N A L L O W M E T O H E L P Y O U T H E R E. R I G H T T H I S W A Y." The bluff worked, so to speak. The officer, instead of malicious intent with the blade, now stood as an usher- a guide- to of all things the restroom. He didn't seem to question why they were going all at once or as a group or anything of that sort. No, instead he took them for their word and ushered them down the hall, to the left, and then immediately to the right. There stood a door simply labelled with the picture of a toilet. No signs for any sort of person, nor letters… just the picture of a toilet.

The guard opened it up, and gestured for the group to go in.



Honestly, it really shouldn't have worked, but it did.

There had been that unfortunate moment between steps where if Sigmund had been that much slower, that less alert, that less acutely aware of what was going on and the layout of the rows, turned that fraction of a second later that perhaps this would have been his ultimate moment before falling into death. Yet, he escaped, the creature moved with such a ferocious charge that left little to any mind that would ever see it that it struggled with forward momentum. But, the change in direction it lacked. Instead, it barrelled on through, only stopping once its office wings spread out like a great brake and its many cumbersome legs and arms shot into the ground, hands where present gripping the carpet of the office below and ripping chunks of it off and into the air with it.

It took a couple of slow, meandering steps to turn before those wings flapped and Sigmund would come to realise that those fated words didn't apply to him and his luck, but rather to the good graces of the beast itself. The wings flapped, and the creature lifted off of the ground, and turned with greater ease than it could be afforded while upon the floor itself. Its limbs reached hopelessly for the ground, as if of a different mind from the behemoth, and when it had turned fully it stopped its flight immediately and slammed back down to the ground, with its camera-borne gaze turned directly at Sigmund as it'd prepare for another charge- through the very obstacles that he had hoped would protect him but now clearly were not going to give him such assurances.

 

[Aero Blue]

Sigmund theorized that he'd been at the gates of death many a time in his life. Bullets, for instance, missing their mark, and their ricochet bouncing harmlessly into the wall behind him. Even bullets that didn't miss their mark, embedding themselves into flesh. An inch there, just few degrees of angular adjustment – those could have all spelt Sigmund's death. Yet as they made themselves known as forgotten shrapnel, as flesh wounds, they all became minor points of Sigmund's life, however significant they could have been.

But this goliath made sure that Sigmund knew just how close he was to the end.

Sigmund breathed heavily. He was fit for his age yes, but he was nearing forty, and not nearly in any shape to deal with machinations straight from the mind of video game artists. He took the brief respite he had to take stock of the situation. The beast was lightning fast, but not so maneuverable when ground-bound, yet in the air its wings had masterful control of its hefty body. The legs seemed uncontrollable, its movement barely articulable besides frenzied swinging. And those cameras – eyes to be certain.

Sigmund hearkened back to when – as a child – he and his rapscallion friends would play tag, that silly game were one trouble child with the state of being 'it' would terrorize the rest. Inevitably, they would come to a point where 'It' and Sigmund would circle around some playground landmark, matching each other step for step around it, and never making any progress whatsoever.

Well, that's what Sigmund aimed to do here.

He took to the outer parts of the cubicle column, and did his level best to maneuver in counter-clockwise fashion. The goal, of course, was to throw off the singular charge of the beast.

 

[Starlighter]

[fieldbox=Isaac Ziegler/Zai, CadetBlue]"The hell" Isaac squeaked. He scrambled back away from the creature, unexpectedly bumping into the chair behind him and losing his balance. He landed on the floor with a thunk, wide-eyed and shaking. The tiny part of him that had decided to do something so ridiculous and stupid as talk to a glitch of all things quietly whispered that everything was fine. This was what he had, in a way, hoped for.

But there was a bug staring at him. A giant, by no means normal roach of all things, sitting there like.... like it expected him to do something.

Gripping the armrest of the chair he had tripped over, Isaac hauled himself upright. He tracked the bug while making his way to the door, never turning his back on it. He turned to head down the hall, fully prepared to make a run for it. And he stopped.

Caution tape was staring him in the face. And he knew for a fact that it hadn't been there before. Memory never let him down. He looked back the way he had come. He could see the group and what looked like a person in uniform - in other words, going that way would be out of the question. His eyes wandered back to the roach, to the caution tape, and back.

Well. There was one thing he could try. Pointing to the caution tape, he closed his eyes and inwardly flinched. This was so wrong. It shouldn't work. But he knew it would, whether as he intended it to or not. Addressing the roach, he said,

"Go through that and stop on the other side." There was no telling what would happen if he tried the same thing himself, but at least he had a guinea pig.
[/fieldbox]