ArchivedLogs:Comparative Testing

Comparative Testing
For Science
Dramatis Personae Dorian Siccavil, Jeremy, Kismet
In Absentia	2013-09-12 An experiment. (Part of Prometheus TP.)
Location Prometheus Testing Facility - Undisclosed Location
In what looks like an old style operating theater, the place seems to be where mutant testing is done that would be hazardous to the rest of the facility. Large double doors lead into the circular chamber itself, with high walls and large two way mirrors up above to keep visual cues from the scientists from disturbing the proceedings. The chamber is ten meters in diameter, with the roof being about as high, though the walls curve up to meet it. The ground is thick concrete slab with drains built into the floor, and obvious locations where hoses can be screwed in to clean up matters that get too messy. The ground has numerous capped indentations, designed to make the room modular, able to place in fencing, walls, or various poles to place targets at varying levels, though currently the central area has a circular cage installed with an upright restraint table in the center. Next to the restraint table is a lexan shield enough for a person to hide behind, with a small folding chair sitting behind the plastic. Another small table is similarly screwed into the floor a couple meters away, holding a number of small objects ranging from ball shaped to slightly more dangerous looking. The entire place is well lit from above, a few obvious looking security camera domes installed, as well as areas along the walls designed to host an impressive sensor array to measure the goings on in the room. Being brought in by his handler, Jeremy is led by the forearm by a larger man with a spring loaded tranquilizer gun hanging off his belt. The young mutant is noticeably frail looking, in part from his nutritional needs being met the way they are, and the other the lack of activity allotted to him. His muzzle is sealed shut still, and his arms are kept low by the steel cable restraints bound to his wrist and latched to a ring attached to his belt behind his back. As the handler reached the caged off area, the mechanical numerical padlock’s buttons are pushed out of view of the mutants, and he is led to the upright table. Theres a slight sigh coming out from the muzzled figure, the knowledge that more experiments were going to be performed not exactly comforting to him, even when it means he will be able to at least open his mouth. Once Jeremy is strapped into the table, arms and legs bound to prevent him from moving around too much, the handler takes out an allen wrench and with a quick motion of it near a spot at the crank, he unlocks the crank mechanism. A practiced half turn to the crank makes it creak slightly, at least enough to make it easier to open and close as necessary, and the man takes his seat behind the lexan, a clipboard coming up to prepare to take notes. Several minutes pass before the next test subject is guided into the room by one of the handlers, this one apparently lacking any of the restraints or containment methods Jeremy sports. Dorian is led through the doors by a handler wearing a protective breathing mask and eyewear, obscuring most of his face from view; the young mutant seems anxious to get away from the handler, but refrains from struggling too much against the larger man. Dorian himself is wearing what look like a fresh pair of the standard issue scrubs for test subjects, though the short sleeves do not fully cover the dark fur at the top of his arm, or do much to hide the flat, tapered tail that swings from beneath the back of the shirt. There’s a slight look of terror that passes over his face at the sight of the room, especially the cage at the center, which passes quickly enough once he notices that the table within the cage is occupied by someone he has not yet met. Cautious curiosity draws him closer to Jeremy’s location, even as his handler steps back out from the room, and he all but makes a beeline for the cage. A slow circle is walked around the perimeter of the closed off area keeping him from the potential new friend, decidedly not predatory in nature, attempting to find some opening into the area. Another circle is made, a look of concern and confusion creasing his features as he checks again, occasionally trying to put an arm through to make contact with Jeremy, though he fails rather consistently at the attempts. Dark eyes cast upwards to the observation area, a frustrated glare directed at the people he assumes are back there, before turning his attention back to the restrained mutant. “Hi,” he says finally, stopping in his circular path to stand somewhat in front of the cage and Jeremy, “I’m Dorian. Gonna guess you’re not really one who can talk much, right?” No mind is paid to the observer behind the lexan - apparently Dorian knows he’s not going to get a response from him. Two orderlies arrive minutes later, leading Kismet. His wrists are cuffed behind his back, but he is not otherwise restrained. Careful scrutiny reveals a slight swelling of his left cheek just below the eye. His expression is serene and his movements unhurried, even when his captors shove him ahead with obvious annoyance. They release him with a shove and depart before he can regain his balance. He takes immediate stock of the room upon entering, eyes flicking from one fixture or occupant to another in rapid succession until finally comes to rest on Dorian. "Hey. Long time no see, huh? What kind of game is this?" Kismet is already testing his restraints and walking around the cage, examining the places where it is secured to the floor. "I don't want to give them any ideas, but--" "Mister Darklighter." A voice from the speakers interrupts him. "I draw your attention to the objects in the table inside the cage." Kismet only spares a passing glance at the loose items before turning his eyes to the restrained young man instead. "That's not an object, that's a person. Hi, I'm Kismet." As others are brought into the room, Jeremy’s eyes pass over Dorian as he comes closer to the cage, and then to Kismet as he comes in next. Theres a slight whimper coming out from the slightly ajar muzzle as he glances over at the table of implements, and again he looks to the two non-handlers having been brought into the room. “Mrph mrph mrephry” comes out as muffled as expected and as the voice from behind the glass is directed to the second one coming into the room, he focuses his attention more there. He tugs against the bonds of the table for a moment, more it seems for comfort than any hope of escape. The handler in the cage stands up and places his hand on the muzzle’s control mechanism as the words start coming through the speakers. The one behind the glass didn’t seem concerned at Kismet’s de-objectification as it continues, “Mr. Darklighter, you are here to engage in comparative testing. A count down will occur, and testing will begin immediately thereafter. Failure to participate will result in punitive measures.” Jeremy lets out another small whimper at that, now unsure as to the other one’s presence as he looks to Dorian again. Dorian’s attention shifts to Kismet when he is brought in, frowning slightly at the swelling on his cheek, “Dun think it’s a game really, those usually have to have defined rules and stuff, and that’s kinda not something they really seem to do here. Well, not that I’ve seen.” The whimper and presumed attempt at introduction draws the otter boy’s attention back towards the restrained mutant. After one more circle around the cage, before settling himself down on the ground at the point he seems to think is closest to the confined mutant, frowning again and looking up at Kismet, then back up to the mirrored glass overhead, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He does start trying to find his a way to get his arm through the cage, reaching out towards Jeremy at the whimper. “Mr. Siccavil. May I remind you that you are not an essential part of this experiment,” the voice overhead addresses Dorian this time, the clinical voice decidedly exasperated sounding, “If you continue to attempt to interfere with the testing, I will have you removed.” At this admonishment, Dorian withdraws his reaching hand from the cage, keeping fingers linked through the rungs of the cage, glancing up at Jeremy, “Sorry.” It is unclear if this is directed at the voice, or the mutant. He falls quiet, still sitting against the cage, placed between Jeremy and Kismet - not that any of this is exactly about the reassuring about the extraneous, if a bit grabby, mutant. "Five, four, three, two, one." The voice from beyond the glass sounds almost bored. "Begin." Closing his eyes and sucking in a breath, Kismet wrinkles his brows at the nearest test object--an innocuous-looking red foam ball. It lifts into the air as if drawn by an invisible string. "What exactly are we /comparing/ this against again?" Kismet's question is softly spoken, probably audible only to Dorian, though perhaps also to the subject inside the cage and the impassive observer behind lexan. As the countdown occurs, the handler holding the controls for Jeremy’s muzzle begins to turn the knob, the mechanical contraption making less noise now than the original half turn. A resigned look comes to the mutant’s eyes, a visible loosening of his facial muscles so that he isn’t hurt when his mouth is forced open wide. “Mr. Reid, please begin,” came the command over the speakers, though there is a visible rolling of Jeremy’s eyes at that, as the handler finished cranking the muzzle enough to show the open mouth behind the metal. It is not open very wide, and yet the room starts to see the results almost immediately as the area around the cage starts to darken and the rooms temperature begins to lower. “Mr. Darklighter, move the ball closer to the cage,” again commands the voice from on high. If nothing else, in the darkening light around the cage, Jeremy seems more relaxed and comfortable, whatever it is about the mutant’s power causing a change in the situation. At least the area around the mutant demonstrates why the room is set up the way it is, as the darkening does not reach the edges of the room, forming an almost dome of haze. Dorian is, for the most part, just observing, seated with his back against the wall of the cage, dark eyes looking between Kismet and Jeremy. There is a visible tensing in his posture as the voice from elsewhere counts down. His gaze follows the motion of the red ball, a look of relief washing over him that the safest of the items was selected - he'd seen his room mate's aim demonstrated before. "I don't know. It's, um, I guess it's something with the two of you," he answers quietly, wincing at the 'non-essential' descriptor, "I'm apparently just here for moral support. Or something." When Jeremy's muzzle is adjusted, and the experiment begins, Dorian looks at the confined mutant, unsure of what to expect behind the mask. There's a confused look at the fact that it is just a normal mouth, but the drop in temperature and the dimming of the lights around testing area explains at least something. "Oh. Um, probably compared to that?" Dorian answers the now somewhat obvious question, unphased by the sudden chill. He perks up slightly, watching Kismet and Jeremy more intently in the failing light. When the lights dim around the cage, the ball Kismet had lifted drops, bouncing a couple of times before coming to rest against a candy-striped party hat. He glances up a the speakers, down at Dorian, shrugs, and turns his attention back to his task. The ball barely clears the surface of the table this time. When it falls, it rolls off onto the floor and to the edge of the cage beside Dorian. "Please select another item, Mister Darklighter." Kismet doesn't even look up this time. He keeps his eyes fixed on the table. The party hat shifts and starts shuffling jerkily across the table. It finally lifts off like an overweight airplane struggling down the runway, but stalls and drops to the ground after only a few inches. "I /can't/," Kismet says. He does not actually sound very upset by this. "There must a disturbance in the Force." Looking to the falling ball, a sigh escapes from Jeremy’s lips as he sees that he won’t be subjected to incoming strikes for now. He watches the further attempts where things continue to fall down somewhat more curiously, and raises a brow at the talk of The Force. There's a slight giggle that comes out, noticeably odd by the fact that lips wouldn’t come into place in the shaping of the sound. “Mr. Darklighter, please take one of the fallen objects with you to the demarcation line indicating the end of the effect.” Which of course there hadn’t been one, though apparently now there is a laser generated line about twenty feet away from the cage. “Mr. Siccavil, please encourage Mr. Darklighter to use his...full efforts,” came the voice once more, and the handler beside Jeremy cranks the knob a few times further, making the muzzle painfully wide and stretching the mutants jaw to its limit as the haze grew to darkness at the center of the cage more quickly. Dorian looks up, a bit startled at the slightly warped giggle from Jeremy, his ears twitching slightly amidst his ruffled mess of hair. A somewhat nervous grin flickers over his face as he looks up, a quiet giggle dies on his lips as he is then addressed by the voice from over head. His ears flatten back to his head and he shifts to his feet, glancing back as the caged in area grows darker still - he narrows his eyes as though trying to see Jeremy within the darkness. On bare feet, he pads over towards Kismet, glancing nervously between him and Jeremy, stopping close to the young jedi. “Um, so, it’s actually a little more like, um, like a game than I thought. Sometimes these aren’t really this, um, simple. Objective is to see how far you can get the ball towards the cage in the middle? Kinda like darts, only not pointy or stabby - just a foam ball. Thankyou fornot picking upthe sharpthings.” Dorian explains quietly the last part a very rushed whisper, his ears still flattened to his skull, “So, I think, if you try again, maybe, well, maybe they’ll let us go back to our rooms?” There’s a nervous edge to his voice, in his glancing up towards the glass overhead, “Not that the rooms are a whole ton better, but at least it’s not here? But, well, maybe… um try again?” Despite the chill in the air, Dorian seems to be doing just fine, probably owing to the layer of thick looking layer of fur visible beneath the thin fabric of the scrubs. Kismet lifts a eyebrow high as the instructions and the laser demarcation line come into being. Dorian's nervousness is not lost on him, but he seems to relax when the other mutant addresses him all the same. He stoops to retrieve the red foam ball and brings it to the line. "All right, then." He tosses the test object up and catches it, then holds it out at arm's length. "Let's play ball!" The red ball rolls from the tips of his fingers and drifts through the air serenely under his steady gaze. As it approaches the cage, however, starts dipping and weaving. It almost falls to the floor once, recovers, then finally succumbs to gravity just at the edge of the deeper darkness in the cage. Kismet looks up. "Should I try that again?" Watching through the haze and darkness, Jeremy can only vaguely see the floating thing and doesn't really hear something so squishy as it hits the ground. He does at least hear the words asking to try it again, at least before they are sucked away. “Ahm dahn. Cahn stahp” the words come out, at least slightly easier to understand though still ill-formed from the contraption keeping his mouth open. The man behind the glass has different opinions on the subject though. “Mr. Darklighter. Please select a heavier object, and propel it rapidly towards Mr. Reid.” There is a firmness to the command, perhaps the figure not wanting there to be any misinterpretation of the words. Jeremy just lets out a little whimper, as he sits in the cold and dark produced by his power, and his handler sits comfortably behind his lexan shielding. Dorian watches the movement of the foam ball again, a look of hopefulness dawning on his face as the ball continues through the faint haze towards the cage. The look fades to in disappointment at the faint sound of the ball bouncing against the flooring, and he looks to Kismet with a somewhat guilty shrug. “It… it was worth a try? Got it further that time,” Dorian offers, perhaps by way of encouragement, looking expectantly around the room, as though hoping the handlers would be back to escort them back to their holding rooms. Of course, at this point, the voice from overhead issues its orders to a grimace from the fuzzy mutant, “Oh.” He ruffles his hair slightly, shifting nervously, “Well, there’s, um, some not so menacing heavier things? And… and the bars should stop it if it actually goes, right?” Squinting into the darkness of the testing area, Dorian frowns, “How’re you supposed to even see where to aim? I mean… dark, and blurry.” As Dorian squints into the darkness and the cold, the heavy steel doors click open, admitting a pair of menacing looking orderlies, each of them wearing crisp blue scrubs with white lab coats and face obscuring surgical masks. They are not the same ones who had escorted any of the mutants in earlier. Each is armed with a tranquilizer gun hanging from their belts, not unlike what Jeremy’s handler wears at his hip. When he notices their approach, Dorian cringes from them, actually taking a step closer to Kismet as he does. No voice comes over the speakers to address their presence, no explanation - but Dorian’s posture is enough to communicate that they are not there with tea and cookies. Kismet makes no aggressive gestures, and his expression does not change. In fact, he does not react to the newcomers at all except to take a single step that puts himself between them and Dorian. A billiard ball rolls off the table and shoots across the floor toward him. He stops it with one slippered foot on the laser line. The red light neatly bisects the old eight ball, even as it rises into the air to approximately waist height. It suddenly lurches toward the cage, traveling almost as fast as one might expect from a billiard ball after a solid strike. Its movement once again becomes erratic as it enters the vicinity of the cage. When it finally falls, it bounces off of the concrete--CRACK CRACk CRAck CRack Crack crack echoes in the stillness until the ball comes to rest against one of the cage bars. In the darkness, Jeremy is tensed for an incoming blow, but blinks in the darkness as the crack crack makes its way to him. There is a click noise as the speaker comes on, a brief pause and then the click again as the speaker goes back off. There is another click, as another voice comes on the line, a female one this time. “Mr. Siccavil, please join your handlers for a moment. Mr. Darklighter, please perform the task once more.” Jeremy tugs at his restraints a bit more, not liking the sound of the voices again. “Ugh, watah” he gets out at that, the handler in the cage with him making a disgusted noise as he comes out from behind the lexan shielding, more going by touch and proximity than the light as water is squeezed into the mutants open mouth. Even though Kismet steps between Dorian and the handlers, the young man still cringes away from their presence, ears flattened against his head out of fear this time. The faintest scent of an earthy perfume wafts through the area - what the hell kind of orderly wears perfume in a top secret lab?! - mostly lost in the general chill of the room. There’s a visible flinch from Dorian at the sound of the female voice addressing him by his last name, and he closes his eyes briefly, as though trying to screw up the courage to move as he has been directed. “I…. it’ll be ok, Kismet. S’ok. You can do it. Then they’ll let us go back to our rooms, and it’ll be ok. Just don’t hurt him, I think he’s just as scared as we are, really. Or at least as I am,” he mutters, eyes still closed, posture that of a terrified child. Apparently, however, Dorian’s hesitation is too long, and without warning, the two orderlies step around Kismet and seize hold of Dorian’s arms in a decidedly forceful manner. After an initial yelp of pained shock, he assumes a resigned posture, moving in the direction he is dragged without much of a fight, standing with shoulders slumped between the two handlers. “Mister Darklighter. Again,” comes the masculine voice from overhead. “You will comply, or there will be punitive measures.” Kismet fixes the orderlies with a sharp glare each and walks back over to the cage to retrieve the billiard ball. He he walks back to the red laser line and holds out his hand, fingers closed tightly around the eight until he lets it go and it /stays/. Then it shoots forward so quickly it is hard to follow with the naked eye. This time it continues on a straight path into the dark zone, though it is hard to say whether this is due to continued acceleration or inertia. It smacks one of the cage bars and ricochets off into the clear plastic shield that protects the observer with an alarmingly loud POP before finally rolling to a stop against the table that holds Jeremy. Kismet's dark brown eyes return to the individuals holding Dorian captive. His left hand clenches tight, then very deliberately unclenches. He lets out a breath. "Guys, you know this game's not a lot of fun." “Thank you, Mr. Darklighter. That will be all,” comes the voice from on high. The handler inside the cage is rather cross looking at Kismet, though since Jeremy is the only one he can reach, he takes his frustration out on the muzzled one, as he opens the muzzle slightly wider, enough to hear a whimper coming from the mutant before spinning the mechanism all the way shut. The darkness disappears almost instantly, but the room itself remains chilled. It takes a few minutes to unlatch Jeremy from the table, but he is eventually led out of the cage, with the handler’s hand guiding the young man by the shoulder. “The experiment is complete, please return to your areas with your handlers.” There is a slight sigh reverberating in his throat at the order, and he signs for the sake of signing, that this is lame, at least for those on high who would be reviewing the footage. Dorian cringes at the sound of the ricochet, not even able to raise his eyes far enough to look at what goes on in the final part of the experiment. A slight whimper escapes him at Kismet’s comment, ears still pressed low into his hair, but he looks up at the statement that the experiment has been completed. As soon as the commanding voice declares the testing over, the two handlers release Dorian’s arms, turning and exiting the testing area wordlessly, as the original handlers enter the room once again. Rubbing gently at his upper arms where he had been grabbed, Dorian visibly relaxes once the orderlies have left, waiting to be escorted back to the room with the handlers. He cannot bring himself to look at Kismet, instead just staring at a point on the concrete flooring just beyond his own feet, waiting. "This is how they do it, then." There is a faint quiver in Kismet's voice. "If they cannot scare you with violence, they turn it on someone else. Make us fear each other as much as them. I guess the ones who don't care about anyone else, they train and use for their own purposes." He move over to stand beside Dorian. "{I would not have let them hurt either of you,}" he says, quietly. "{And I don't give a damn if they speak French.}"