WELCOME TO NEXUS.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

((CMF: Silver Fox: Undisclosed Location in North America: Tax Dollars At Work))


Jacob Marques was not anyone special. He went to work, paid his taxes. His job was a little on the sketch side, but it was good work and he didn't hurt anyone. No one important anyway. Just a couple muties, but that was all part of the job. He was just following orders. Jacob didn't think it a particularly good idea to amp up these mutants, even in the interest of enslaving them and using their strength to protect good citizens like himself. So Jacob took certain..measures. Nothing too unreasonable; he just wanted some protection. So he might have smuggled a few experiment leftover for himself - successful experiments that is. Nothing wrong with making sure he was ready for when these freaks got out of line. It wasn't unreasonable. People had died. Guards that got a little too cocky, scientists that got a little too complacent. Sometimes a collar and promise of punishment wasn't enough.

Jacob had been pleased with his results. Gym workouts were easier, objects weren't as heavy. He'd never reach the levels of the monsters they contained here, but he could probably at least surprise them enough in putting up a fight to get away with his life. And that's all he really wanted - a fighting chance. Imagine his surprise when he got busted. Jacob hadn't known what to expect. He remembered a break in at his house. And then waking up on the wrong side of the cage. All of a sudden, he was the freak. Jacob protested at every opportunity. He was still human; they could run the same tests he had in order to ensure he was still himself. Let me out, you won't get away with this! Words in vain day in and day out. They put him through the paces, trying to see what he was now capable of. He guessed they seemed impressed enough to keep him alive so far. Even tested him out on some missions. Whatever they were looking for, he seemed to have it - or so he supposed since he wasn't dead yet.

Today was something new though. Metallic-sheen room with observation windows and cameras lining the very top. He thought he could make out some people up there. Visual enhancements had been next on his list of 'defensive improvements'. They'd bound him to a chair. A job well done, as he couldn't break the bindings immediately. He could feel that, with persistence, he could get out. Jacob was still pondering the point when he noted another chair. Another chair with another person in it. Whoever it was, looked really out of it. A woman, he could tell, from the length of hair and the curves of her body. She didn't seem too banged up, but there was a tear here, blood stains there. Her head hung limply forward, allowing a curtain of black to guard her face. Maybe she was another scientist like him, got a little 'out of line' in the eyes of big brother. Or she could be a test. Was..he supposed to kill this woman? They'd run him through a gauntlet before. Pitting him against other experiments and, as he'd found on some occasions, other hapless - but boosted - humans.

50/50 chance here - mutie or fellow human? Jacob guessed it wouldn't matter, except for the sick feeling he always got when discovering he'd taken out a fellow human. It was her or him and he wasn't ready to die yet. Jacob renewed efforts to get out of his bindings as he noticed something. A collar. Mutie. One side of his mouth curled into a sneer. Oh, this he could do then. The man renewed his efforts to break free. He'd make it quick only because he didn't know what this freak could do and he didn't want to find out, if he could help it. Shifting from the female mutie across from him said that he was running out of time.

High above him, four scientists gathered to take notes. Two watched the designated projects below. The other pair watched the video feed.

===

She was bored. The woman went through the usual hoops of returning from being 'let out'. Herd her into a small room. Make notes. Amp up the collar voltage until she passed out. Make notes. She'd wake up in that damn tube, filled with the green liquid that made her skin tingle...and crawl. Make notes. Then they'd inject various 'test chemicals' into the liquid. There was never any escaping it. Sometimes it burned, sometimes it itched, sometimes it induced hallucinations. Unspeakable agony. On rare occasions? Nothing happened. She would have no reaction, but it wasn't reassuring. They scribbled twice as fast when nothing happened. Interest only perked up that way if she responded in a pleasing fashion - no good ever came of that.

Today wasn't as different for her as it was for the idiot across from her. They had done this several times, under several different guises. Humanity test. Strength test. Endurance test. She found the 'Healing test' to be particularly unpleasant. She knew there were four scientists up there, safe from any harm - for now - watching. Taking their bloody notes. She knew they were trying to see which one of them had control. If it wasn't the one they wanted, then the test - whichever it'd been initially - became a Remnant test. That's what they had taken to calling them. Not pieces, copies, fragments, personas, or personalities. Remnants. She wasn't sure if she should be offended or not.

The dark-haired feral let her head fall forward before the man started to stir. She 'played possum' for a while, listening to him struggle and mumble to himself. Eventually, the woman deigned to lift her head. This was a new face. From the lack of horror on his face as he looked up to see her awake, she guessed he must not recognize her. Either he was one used to her pale appearance of the past or he was new to this facility. New to this program. It didn't really matter, she mused, he was still going to die. The Weapon X captive sat and watched him wear down his bindings, occupying herself by seeing how long that it would take.

The scientists above were determining if this remnant was acceptable or not. "Feral subject appears calm and indifferent. No struggling, profanities, or open expressions of boredom with the exercise. Video feed, when zoomed in and clarified, reveals irises have more silver in them than average. Conclusion is that the subject is presently Remnant Isis." The other scientists voiced their agreements. "Remnant Isis tends to complete these exercises as quickly and neatly as possible. She tends to not interact with the opposing subjects, even with provocation."

A bespectacled scientist commented, "I believe the exercise would be more productive with Remnant Strife. However, Remnant Strife is quite volatile and excessive damage is incurred on both sides when it is time to retrieve her. There are always guard casualties and we are unable to collect pure post-exercise data when the collar is activated to knock her out."

One worker from the seated paired, shrugged lightly. "There is always a trade off. Which do we want more - exercise data or post-exercise data? Additionally, excessive damage is also incurred when forcing out another remnant. The methodology is far from perfect and there is no guarantee that we will get what he want."

"Yes, but recent results are consistent. If either remnant is knocked unconscious, the other usually takes over. Though there is evidence of more than two remnants, lately only Remnants Isis and Strife come forward."

The female scientist, seated before the video feed clucked her tongue at screen. "Quickly gentlemen, I believe Remnant Isis has decided to remain inactive no longer."

====

Jacob's head snapped up at the sound coming from his opponent. What the heck was that supposed to be? Some strange noises..almost in stereo.

*SHH-*
*SHHH-*
*SHHHH-*
*SHHHHH-*
*SHHHHHH-*

Isis flexed both hands, expressionless as she stared at the fool before her.

*-IINKT*

This post has been edited by ~*Silver Fox*~ on Jul 22 2012, 02:28 PM

[//Mystique]

[Brotherhood HQ, Upper Level Command Center: "Of Transition"]

A soft click and the magnetic locks disengaged to allow the door to swing open. A blonde-haired woman wearing a laboratory coat calmly strode into the room and let the door quietly close behind her. She didn't bother the four observing the two below, because they were far too busy to be troubled by 'menial' tasks. No, she was a humble assistant; she kept her distance as she bent over a screen to record data on her own clipboard. It was so very important to make sure the equipment was full functional at all times. Wouldn't want a mutant subject to get lose causing facility-wide damage or needless slaughter of personnel. The Program could hire replacements, but how many people were there you could count on to keep their damn lips shut even when tortured? Surely couldn't be that many and their salary requirement would only go up as you become more desperate.

A real shame these coats got in the way. You know, if anyone just happened to look. Their assistant's round rump pulled tight against the coat. Also too bad it was so thick you couldn't see what she was wearing beneath it. Their loss for being so formal. The blonde ponytail stick out near the top of her head and the red high-heels were all they could see with her back to them studying the monitors.

A smirk slowly pulled her her red lips as she brought the video feed in from the chamber to her monitor. Aw, looked like pretty Miss Muffet was about to carve up an evening snack. That brain-dead man in there could have been a useful diversion, but he'd probably stand there like an idiot or get in their way. Not brain-dead enough considering his treatment history. Relatively sane. Self aware. Proclaiming he wasn't a mutant the entire time... and he wasn't. Not born that way at any rate. Now? Results didn't seem very conclusive. Plus it'd be better if he was dead; the less successful transplants still viable the less experiments these whack jobs got to perform on the process.

Looked like it was time to sit back and observe--not only Fox, but her handlers as well. Time to see what they'd been up to.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

Isis released her claws, the unfortunate man in front of her looking up in suspicion at the sound. At least he wasn't so foolish as to pause in his work on the bindings. It didn't matter though. It never did. They hadn't even handicapped her for this. Being tested this way shortly after a mission she'd - or Strife rather - had barely broken a sweat on wasn't new. And even if it was, that would hardly throw her off. Isis stared on impassively, assessing the situation. Human. The man across from her was human. He reeked of scents she associated with 'science' - it was like he was sweating chemicals or something. She refrained from wrinkling her nose in disgust. The was a rush to his movements, likely he though getting loose first would save him.

It didn't matter. He'd still die.

He was talking to her - oh great, mutant hater too - and she did not respond. She quit after the first few times. You try to educate some people on the futility of it all and they get all offended. Sometimes they didn't seem to even comprehend what she was trying to tell them. It only spurred them on more. And if they played into the scientists' hands, it left her with no option but to do the same. She was not going to die in that fashion. Disgusting. Silver-blues looked on blankly, wishing the man would be so kind as to hurry up. This could have been over ages ago. They weren't bound by adamantium or some freak alloy, which meant that her claws could destroy it. Granted, using different binding materials to make things more difficult for her wasn't new. At the same time, the point of the exercise was not for her to sit in the chair and die.

Not that it would matter. Strife had managed to kill her opponent without ever rising from her chair before.

It'd been bloody and gruesome, but that's what the alternative was to a neat slice from her claws. Isis preferred to be quick about it. Neat, fast, efficient. So why wasn't she moving now? Because he wasn't freed yet. Isis would not attack until he was able to declare himself an opponent by coming at her. She didn't attack the defenseless. It was tasteless and despite everything, even herself, she had enough humanity to not do that. She wasn't an animal, not a mindless beast out of blood. She actively buried that all the time. She was better than that. So even though Isis wanted to be done before the scientists concluded that Strife put on a better show, she waited.

Not that it mattered.

Mystique would be in for a show - both the collar and Fox would be in action.

====

The bespectacled scientist pressed his lips together, mentally sneering at the man below. He didn't like Jacob Marques, never had. Blasted slacker; how had he ever managed to get so far? He ought to be dead or slaving away like the other genetically-manipulated freaks at other locations. This exercise was a death sentence though; they had no use for him. Or he didn't. He was the one to line Jacob up for this exercise, though other scientists puzzled over the certain loss of an interesting subject. "Activate the collar."

The other three stared. "What?"

"I said activate the collar; data on Remnant Strife would be more useful." And he wanted Jacobs to suffer. Remnant Isis was too efficient, too quick. And while Remnant Strife wasn't sadistic enough to 'play' with opposing forces before delivering a bloody death for no reason...she /could/ likely be provoked into making it unpleasant.

The female at the console looked skeptical. "I thought we had agreed that post-exercise data would be better at this point."

The man witnessed Jacob's bindings fall and knew the remnant would spring into action soon after. "I said do it!" The man stormed over amidst a storm of protests from the others. "I'll do it myself!"

"Are you mad? It's too late for that now."

"You're being unreasonable. Hey, don't--!"

"Wait, stop; you'll ruin the exercise!" Too late.
.
====

Isis was watching the man's bindings fall when it happened. Swearing mentally, she'd even managed to cut free of her own bindings before the agony coursing through her brought her to her knees.

Jacob stared in surprise as, before he could make a move on the mutie, she collapsed. The way she was clawing at the collar around her neck said that something was going on with it, bring her down. This might end without him having to lift a finger. The animistic growling and snarling kept him back. Maybe the mutie had rabies or something and would start foaming at the mouth soon. He wasn't ready when she surged up and forward, slashing at him. Even a wild swing was good enough to get four solid scratches down his torso. Jacob cursed loudly and jumped back. The man watched more carefully, pressing a hand to his bleeding stomach, determined that he wouldn't be caught off guard by the mutie again. The convulsing grew more intense and a kind of bestial roar erupted before she hit the ground again, just feet away from him. She didn't get up again. Was that it? Bewildered Jacob stepped forward, cautiously kicking at the body a few times. Lack of response only encouraged him to kick harder and harder. Smirking, he decided to test his strength. He heard a satisfying crunch as the body skidded back and rolled a few yards. He laughed. Was this all?

Jacobs stopped short at a strange noise coming from the body. It was..hard to describe, but sounded similar to the sound the ribs had made when he had broken them just moments ago. His smirk fell and amusement faded as the woman shifted slowly onto her knees. When she looked up through the curtain of black, for some reason, he got the feeling something distinctly wrong was going on here. It /had/ been a trick, maybe nothing had been going on at all. "Faking it?" he asked himself in a low grumble.

"It doesn't matter," Strife said, voicing Isis' inner thoughts out loud. She had guessed what was going to happen faster than Isis; was ready for it as soon as the first surges of pain occurred. Oh, her 'twin' had tried to end the exercise anyway and if that idiot had been any closer, Isis would have gutted him for sure. Too bad for him; he'd wish that she had.

"You smell like a scientist," Strife observed.

Jacob sneered. "Oh yeah mutie? Well you'll find me a little harder to kill than the others."

The irises staring down Jacob now were different, but subtly so. More blue than silver, and certainly not as impassive. She smiled and didn't say that he smelled like the other projects too. The ones that didn't make it. "You are a scientist. I wonder whose shit list you got on to end up in here." The man frowned and carefully began to circle the woman, looking for something to exploit. Strife didn't move, didn't watch. She didn't have to. The blood and breathing would give him away no matter what he did. And his feet - the man had a heavy tread.

It didn't matter. It never does.

She wanted to abscond, like Isis had tried a few times. She didn't like the idea of playing the program's little games, doing their little exercises. However, she wasn't going to stand around and die either. Besides..this was a scientist. A Weapon X scientist. She didn't know him, had never seen him before, but she wanted him to die. Passionately, she wanted his blood to decorate every inch of the space. She wanted to show those lab coat-wearing cowards just what would come to them if she ever, EVER, got her hands on any of them. No hesitation, no thought or feeling other than how much they deserved it. Strife might even let herself enjoy it a little. It was so easy to see this man in a lab coat, hunched over her body on a table or manipulating the console outside of those the tube.

Her eyes flashed and she moved to strike him down where he stood. Strife was pleasantly surprised that he'd been half-ready. He jumped back and, using the wall near him as a jump off point, leapt over her head. So he wanted to be an acrobat did he? That was fine. Fine enough that only he was stunned when the sound of flesh being mutilated filled the air.

Jumping away had been a bad idea. It spared him additional slashes to the stomach, but cost him on the leg. Stife had pivoted neatly, swiftly, and jumped up to hack into his leg. Jacob was, understandably, freaked out. His mangled leg was bleeding quite profusely and, really, there was nothing quite like the sight of someone standing over you with your blood all over their face. The blood didn't stand out as much as it might have if she'd still had the moon-kissed hues of old, but the red did much in bringing out the silver in those Prussian blues orbs of disturbia. Strife wasn't impressed by the profanities; she'd heard worse and more creative language directed at her. The feral tried not to revel in this; in having a former tormentor at her feet. She took a page from Isis' book and buried the mixed feelings of having the warm liquid version of someone's life dripping down her face. Buried whatever in her was provoked by the cloying smell of copper, a prey on its last legs...leg. Strife must have stood there too long. A little unnatural bolt of pain cut through her thoughts.

'Finish him', the biting jolt said. Strife scoffed. "What is this? The Roman empire?" She looked up towards the observation windows, having expecting to see an oh-so-mortal fool in white showing her a thumbs down. There was nothing and Strife felt oddly disappointed.

"Hey, hey! You people let me out of here - the test is over; your pet project won!"

Strife's gaze fell on the near-amputee. Perhaps she should just cut it off? "Test? Oh...did you think this exercise was for you?"

This post has been edited by ~*Silver Fox*~ on Jul 23 2012, 05:12 PM

[//Mystique]

The Assistant watched as various schematics and commands faded in and out of view while the Scientists were busy playing 'god.' Look at how one of them thought Fox his personal plaything; annoyed at her slow examination and eager to have her rend the man to pieces. Too eager. Even Raven liked "getting her gun off," but she didn't do it when there were witnesses; not when people could begin to question your sanity and plot to betray you out of fear. Little Weapon X Scientist didn't know how to play the game. Not everyone was cracked up to be a Master Manipulator. Not everyone was meant to survive.

A smile slowly spread over her red lips as she stood at the console, back to the bickering colleagues. There was no rush. Fox wasn't in danger of being terminated before there was a chance to release her into the wild. The scheduled experiments didn't look out of the ordinary either; the woman in the cage would survive long enough to be set free. Soon. The time wasn't right, now.

There was no way Raven could spring Fox from this hellhole without someone noticing. Well there was, but she wasn't willing to wait that long to set everything up. She needed to remain busy bolstering the Brotherhood, opposing the enemies of Mutantkind, and inspiring a revolt; there wasn't time to stand about for days or weeks on end discretely tapping various redundant security systems until the two of them could slip out unnoticed. Right now she could snap cameras off and open doors, but the collars were on a separate system and the moment she did anything alarms would go off. Mystique wanted them out without anyone knowing who'd hit them. They could speculate and blame the Brotherhood all they like, but they wouldn't have any leads.

Schedule had it a new experiment was coming online. One she planned to set loose on the facility, which should occupy most of the staff while the two of them escaped. Just needed more time. Fortunately, this gave Raven time to watch, observe, and soon enough interact with the pretty, crazed woman below. 'Collar Inspection' after the test, you understand. Wouldn't risk a Weapon X Scientist on something so dangerous. Let the Assistant take care of it, and making sure Fox was presentable for the next round.

It was all a matter of biding her time.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

The dark-haired woman was ever so happy to enlighten the man before he died. It had the simultaneous purpose of reminding these people that lack of intelligence was /not/ what kept her trapped here. She ignored the second jolt. "This is an /exercise/ for /me/. Probably a humanity test. You reek of the unnatural, but you are still human. Defenseless, pitiful."

"So you fail if you kill me! No human would do this!" She was surprised that he'd managed to drag himself back that many feet. But that leg of his, tut tut, perhaps she should have fully extended her claws and torn it off completely. But then he wouldn't be alive for this little bit of enlightenment!

Strife's smile was asylum-worthy. "You're probably right." More profanities, accusations that this made her every bit the pet project monster she was designed to be. That she was failing the test. Every and anything the man could say to get her to stop or rethink it or buy time. Tch, like this was a timed test? Another jolt. Well, this little lesson in life had come to an end. "Sparing you as proof of humanity, defiance, was never the point."

His question couldn't have been more obvious if she'd drawn a bloody red version of the punctuation mark on his forehead herself. "You want to know the point." Her brief chuckle was humorless. "I did ask you whose shit list you were on. For you? There is no point. There never was. As for my humanity..." Strife pulled another page from Isis' book by making a quick. She must have only read half the page's text, because it was quite bloody. No mercy for the mouthy scientist. Maybe if she'd waited a few more seconds, or swung with a little less force..a little slower.. Maybe he'd have gotten that scream out. Strife stared at the open-mouthed head rolling across the floor in a fashion that suggested she was satisfied, but bored. She was satisfied that her message was sent and received. The woman stood over her beheaded opponent, whose ears were dead to the finish of, "I haven't been human for a long, long time."

She was bored because she knew what would come next. Or thought she knew. Strife had been ready to put some guards in their places before she went down, but was surprised by a change of plans. No guards, but -- the woman swore and couldn't fight the reflex of grabbing at the collar. As the surges coursed through her body, she mentally scoffed and hoped Isis had her shit together by now.

===

High above the pair, there was a silence amongst the four. They didn't even look to revel in the success of changing tactics to retrieve the subject after an exercise. No casualties if they did it this way. But there were no notes made on that victory. Three pairs of narrowed eyes directed at the bespectacled man. "You compromised our data for a personal grudge?"

"You're basing that on the words of the subject? Remnant Strife is always spouting nonsense. The subject was likely trying to demoralize the other."

The gazes of the others suggested they were about to call him on it. A seated man swiveled in his chair, unconvinced. Remnant Strife talked, but it was rarely just that - talk. "Are you crazy - the Director will have you killed, have us /all/ killed for this." He's done it for less.

"Don't be ridiculous. We have our data and pushing forward Remnant Strife was the right decision to make in any case. It only bolsters proof that the subject's primaries are Remnants Strife and Isis. In all likelihood, whatever happened in that disastrous experiment several months ago, Remnant YY" - unnamed due to lack of data - "is gone. It further supports recent motions to abandon that part of the Operation and press on."

Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? one woman thought as she was saving the records. The bespectacled man exited, clearly done. Let them say what they wanted. They'd not report him or do anything about it. Just being present would make them as guilty as her in the Director's eyes. If they wanted to live, they'd keep their mouths shut.

"He'll be the death of us faster than she will," the other standing scientist concluded, pointing a finger at the motionless feral being dragged away.

===

Isis woke up in the accursed tube. They had been out long enough to miss the earlier steps. She always hated waking up in this cylindrical vat. As usual, it tingled in a fashion that made her skin crawl. It was supposed to 'help'. Really, it just made it easier to fix damage done by experiments. They could test more, do more to her with this vat. It was presently drained, which meant the preliminary notes were done and they were either prepping her for another round in here, on the table, or would deign to send her back to her cell. She'd be stuck waiting in here, all manner of technician and assistant and what-have-you passing through. Some leered at her as she sat around, half naked and wishing they'd had the decency to make a faster-drying liquid. And scentless. The liquid's smell thickly pervaded the vat, in combination with the scent of blood. They didn't always 'cleanse' her before throwing her body in here. The smell was...displeasing.

Sometimes, while the big wig lab types were away, bolder employees would come closer. Rap a fist on the tube, tap their fingers in a tune, grin and smile and verbally mock her. They felt emboldened, no doubt, by repeated proof that she couldn't escape the tube. Even if the system malfunctioned and the cylinder released her, she was still stuck in these bindings. She could move around in here, but what was the point in that if it wouldn't get her out? Complain as she did, it was rather boring without Strife's incessant talk. Isis supposed she should be thankful for the down time. Pph. The woman closed her eyes and opted to ignore the sound of the door allowing someone into the room. They were either coming in for readings, to taunt her, or to do some checks and such to prep her for something. Ah, guess that meant they weren't done with her for today. The ice-eyed feral had little interest in this. It didn't matter, she told herself.

Well, perhaps Raven would be so kind as to prove her wrong.

This post has been edited by ~*Silver Fox*~ on Jul 27 2012, 05:25 PM

[//Mystique]

Raven quietly closed the video feed and began wrapping up her survey of the controls as it became obvious the operation was over. Not that the debate had been settled by the Scientists, of course. No they all had dirty looks to share about their precious pet being used to kill some mentally addled test subject that thought himself too good to be killed. Really, Raven hadn't figured out how the man had gotten that deluded. Super Strength--and not even close to the top of his class--wasn't all that impressive. Well, maybe for a genetic graft it was.

She listened in silence to the four rant. Seemed there was a third personality? And they gave it such a creative name too. YY? Was that Fox's masculine side? Mmm, Mystique smirked, even if it did come out to play Fox wouldn't be the only one heaving giant balls of steel around the room.

As for their fear of being killed by their Master? Well, they were Scientists. Of course they wouldn't see Mystique coming; if a paltry Egghead could see through her guise then she really wouldn't be the best at her job.

With everyone clearing out, the Assistant straightened up to follow suit. Be suspicious if she loitered for no good reason. Wasn't like this had been a very complicated "experiment." It'd been an execution by proxy. Shock Fox enough and she got the point: kill the stupid fuck. Yes, lots of data there. No one would ever have guessed.

A short while later the Assistant made her rounds toward another wonderful test chamber of sorts. While data from the slaughter room was worthless, there was plenty to be had from the woman herself, right? A few needles. An unidentified substance or two. Maybe just observations to make sure Fox didn't look ill or suicidal. More to the point: a reason for a mere Assistant to visit one of their favorite pet projects without oversight.

Well, no oversight any more. A little looped audio and video feed for some privacy.

The woman in the red, high-heeled shoes stopped by the console for the tank. Seemed with the container empty there wasn't very much of interest there. Suited her just fine. Her manicured fingers lifted a wireless headset from the console before a few flicks opened up a line in and out of the tube so neither of them would need to speak up to be heard through the transparent material. "Looks like someone's Handler is getting too bold for his station," Raven said into the microphone as she began circling the container to get a close-up view of the woman not hindered by the video camera's approximation for the Human/Mutant-eye. "To think they would waste someone of your skill on something so pathetic." A rabid dog--genetically modified, this being Weapon X--could probably have killed the man. Well, his file said he was a fighter, but from what Mystique had seen he was only a "fighter" from a Human's point of view. Man never stood a chance in the real world.

"You don't actually like it here, do you?" She stopped in front of Fox and fixed her eyes on the other woman's face wanting to peer into those defiant eyes if they opened. "Trapped in a cage. Told to waste your talent on failed experiments or pet projects. For people that don't even have a proper name for you. 'Remnant Isis' or 'Remnant Strife' they say as if they would get confused if they simply used your name. Have you ever hoped for more?"

[~*Silver Fox*~]

Isis willfully and dutifully ignored the person outside of her cube. She expected that it was just another lab rat coming to make her life more difficult. They liked her in this contraption, but still gave a healthy flinch when they found twin frozen tundra orbs locked onto them. But this day would be different. This was no lab rat come to tinker with controls and do their dirty deeds. Isis didn't know when exactly she'd gone from missions around the globe to being stuck in a tube 90% of the time and only released for minor duties the rest of the time. She supposed she had committed some great offense and, evidently, couldn't recall it. Perhaps they'd erased it. Only the ice in her veins kept her from losing her mind. The idea that someone could just re-fashion your life to suit their desires..

Disgusting.

Hearing the familiar sound of the sound lines opening, she guessed that she would be subjected to whatever the lab rat had to say. A rare occurrence, but the higher-ranked lab rats would sometimes taunt her over the sound waves, knowing she couldn't block it out. Well, she could, but she'd rather not leave herself in such a vulnerable state. If not a taunting, then a clinical recitation of what to expect.

"Looks like someone's Handler is getting too bold for his station,"

New voice. Not a frequent thing since the Director didn't like too many hands on the monsters he favored. Isis knew she had the misfortune of being under this category. Still, Isis remained seated in lotus position, eyes closed to whoever was outside. This did not sound like any taunting she was familiar with. Few lab rats dared speak against the top scientists in charge. They usually had that sickening hero worship think going on. The voice of the one speaking held no hint of that. In fact, the disdain sounded remarkably sincere. "To think they would waste someone of your skill on something so pathetic."

Point, but Isis was growing used to these hoops. Strife insisted that it was a trick, that these hoops and tests and small missions were not just a grand punishment for some infraction they couldn't remember. It was something bigger. With every passing day, Isis was growing more inclined to agree. Going from frequent missions spanning the globe to barely leaving the lab with only occasional missions that she felt were quite domestic was suspicious. And why couldn't they remember what led to this? Also swaying Isis were clear discrepancies in their surroundings. Weapon X had access to a great many things, all ahead of the time, but the gadgets and technologies at their disposal now were just ridiculous. It was /different/. Even the people under those lab coats had changed. The style of clothing, hair, shoe stylings - the /scientists and lab rats themselves/. The people around here were quite sheep-like, unimpressive in their sheer uniformity. And they never left; just died or ended up dead. They had had to re-learn faces and voices and smells. Everything was virtually new those few months ago. Vocabulary had changed, new slang and terminology, chemicals she'd never heard of. And their first mission outside after an obscene amount of lab time? Mind-blowing. Different weapons, different world. Nothing on the outside was the same.

Isis had no explanation, Strife had no explanation. There were no other projects around long enough for them to pressure answers out of and the lab rats would obviously be of no use. They heard whispers sometimes, careless talk that others thought the feral was too out of it to hear and absorb or just plain not paying attention. But those weren't helpful either, usually creating more questions than they answered. They could try to force those from someone too, roll the dice on a mission. That is all, of course, supposing that they'd risk the unhealthy interest that would arise from them making these observations, forcing hands. Isis didn't tell Strife, but she sometimes wondered about there being a 'them' too. It wasn't normal, being the way she and Strife were. The way things worked. But they had adjusted, and WX along with them. They'd even tweaked the accursed collar to force them to switch, but without leaving them out cold too long. Brain pathways and shock therapy.

"You don't actually like it here, do you?"

What a ridiculous question. Isis was tempted to tell her so, but that'd be reacting. Feeling. Isis didn't do feelings; didn't really like to talk to people. Strife was better, the - dare she use the phrasing - 'people person' between the two. That did not bode well for everyone else though. Seemed they'd rather deal with her. Go figure.

"Trapped in a cage. Told to waste your talent on failed experiments or pet projects. For people that don't even have a proper name for you. 'Remnant Isis' or 'Remnant Strife' they say as if they would get confused if they simply used your name. Have you ever hoped for more?"

Isis finally did open her eyes, the arctic irises accompanied by a frown of suspicion. "Hope is a four-letter word," Hope would not free her, hope would not stop the burn of the still-not-dry substance coating her skin. Hope would not destroy WX. Hope couldn't even get this collar off. "and I have no use for it. Though rumor has it that I had this 'more' you refer to - and now I don't However, I have no recollection of this alleged freedom spree, though I am certainly paying the price for it now." She closed her eyes. "Of course, if you actually worked here, you would already know that."

+Strife, Strife wake up damn you. Do you recognize this woman?+ There was a stream of curses before a moody Strife told her that she didn't know 'the blonde lab rat and to 'leave her the hell alone', she was 'recovering'. Rolling her eyes mentally, Isis left the woman alone. She'd be grateful for the time of peace she'd have before the other decided it'd be fun to have Isis try to carry two conversations at once.

[//Mystique]

Raven's red lips parted to reveal the pristine pearly whites behind them. Had she fangs the look might have been predatory. "Hope is all you have, Silver Fox. That little thought how much nicer it would be to not be in your cage. A foolish wish, surrounded by enemies, but that's why they call it 'hope.' You shouldn't ignore it," she dropped her eyes casually to a clipboard she'd picked up, "seeing how that's all any of us have to survive." Obviously a trait this place did its best to crush, much like it had ripped it from the hearts and souls of those working here. Every report she'd seen was so sterile. What boring torturers these people were.

"So," Mystique lifted her baby blues up to stare at Silver Fox once more, "I asked if you liked it here because there's really no point wasting time on someone that's already broken. You don't fix a broken spirit. Broken minds aren't a problem as long as they remember how to carry out instructions. Should I be wasting my time on you... Silver Fox?" Raven slowly arch her right eyebrow as she asked the all important question.

She hadn't come all this way to hear 'no,' so Raven wouldn't wait long for a reply. One minor detail, however, "I should mark you down for a private audience then. How's tomorrow? Any plans I should be aware of? I have so much to plan for the perfect experiment for a woman as lovely and lethal as you." As she pressed the clipboard against her chest, the Assistant grinned with anticipation for a little escape party. Wouldn't want the party girl to be all tuckered out from her exercise, right?

"Before I leave," she set the clipboard back down on a table, "did you have any questions?" Perhaps Fox enjoyed staring at people in silence. Not very social, but Raven wasn't here for Girls' Night Out or a slumber party. Consider this a free opportunity for Fox to say 'are you nuts?' and tell the metamorph to get lost... so she can wallow in her tube for the rest of her rather eventful, but unfulfilling life. Raven didn't expect to hear that, however; and she hated to be disappointed.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

"Hope is all you have, Silver Fox. That little thought how much nicer it would be to not be in your cage. A foolish wish, surrounded by enemies, but that's why they call it 'hope.' You shouldn't ignore it," -- "seeing how that's all any of us have to survive."

Isis looked at the not-lab assistant suspiciously. Silver Fox. That name had not been used to address them since..hm. Actually, Isis wasn't entirely sure. She wasn't sure when..she had happened, when Strife had happened, when any of them had happened. Oh sure, her memories said her name was Silver Fox. So did Strife's. Between the two of them, they'd managed to put together that Weapon X had tinkered too far. At some stage, they'd...done something and Silver Fox's mind had fractured or something. Isis guessed that they were trying a different route now that they'd gotten their greasy paws on Silver Fox again. Rather than focusing on the physical advances, they were on a dual-track of physical and mental.

And then they'd screwed up.

But now they found the screw up oh-so-fascinating and, as usual, sought a way to control it. It was all conjecture as there was no way to get their hands on the items to confirm it and obviously no one was going to tell them. Isis raised an eyebrow at the woman before deigning to get up. She didn't, couldn't, make it all the way to the edge, the restraints prevented that. Instructions? "[..] Should I be wasting my time on you... Silver Fox?" Silver Fox. Again. Isis wondered if they would ever be 'Silver Fox' again. Raven didn't have to wait long for an answer, but it wasn't necessarily a 'yes'. Just a comment. "I assure you Strife is more than spirited enough for anyone." Which was why they preferred Isis in the driver's seat for missions. "Weapon X is gifted at breaking many things, but that isn't one of them." This all did beg the question: Who was this woman? Obviously not a lab tech or anyone associated with Weapon X. Anyone trying to take her would just want her as their own pet project. This woman didn't seem to be on that track. She said something about instructions. Orders. Isis frowned internally. This woman better not be from some militant agency on a faux-rescue mission that was really recruitment.

"I should mark you down for a private audience then. How's tomorrow? Any plans I should be aware of? I have so much to plan for the perfect experiment for a woman as lovely and lethal as you."

Silver-blues narrowed. Plans? I will not go from one cage to another. A proper response would be easier to formulate if she only knew who this woman was and what the heck she was getting at. Conversely, rolling the dice might be worth it. Hell, she really only needed the collar to come off to really get rolling. Once freed, Isis doubted the woman could stop her from ghosting immediately after. An ungrateful act that would no doubt be remembered and instigate retribution down the line, but since when has she cared about that? Of course, depending on what this woman was talking about doing, she might stick around.

Maybe. Strife, on her end, was practically vibrating with interest. It was very annoying to Isis and she wished the scientists hadn't found a way to minimize the needed recovery time between these forced switches they did using the collar. Strife, clearly, didn't care what the woman wanted. Strife just wanted out and if this woman could deliver that, Strife would gladly return the favor. Of course, what Strife and this woman considered as a fulfilled favor might differ from one another.. \Do it, say you'll do it damn you! I won't be stuck here forever just because you want to be difficult as usual.\ Isis coolly advised Strife to 'shut up' before returning attention to the mystery woman before her. Everyone wanted something. She absolutely would not trade one cage for another. This collar for one unseen. A Director for a Mistress..or some such equivalent.

+---+

Abruptly, Mystique was greeted with a grin. "I don't really keep appointment books." Then again, when did they ever tell her anything? "But I'd be more than happy to add time in for you." Eyes open, blue disturbia glinted. What happened? All hell had broken loose - mentally.

Strife, utterly convinced that Isis would ruin this, instigated an in-fight. An in-fight was when one remnant or another attempted to force their way into the 'driver's seat'. This was more easily done when the current driver was weakened, a cake walk if they passed out. Isis was more than conscious and the prep work that left green liquid tingling against her skin wasn't too damaging. However, Strife had kicked Isis out before, being the more volatile remnant between the two, and she'd do it again. One extremely valuable benefit she did have at her disposal was the element of surprise. Her yelling things at Isis was hardly unusual and often went without action. Isis would be, and was, wholly unprepared to fight Strife to retain control. Internally, it was quite messy and felt rather lengthy.

Externally, it would have appeared to Raven as though the woman was dealing with a rather unpleasant migraine of relatively short duration. Strife was actually fairly good at this tactic, though she apparently didn't do it often enough to put Isis on constant guard. Yet.

"Before I leave," -- "did you have any questions?"

"Not if you can get me out of here." Hah, if only. Her actual questions were rather frank actually, though her demeanor, disturbed or otherwise, suggested the answers didn't really matter if the woman could actually deliver. "Who are you and what do you want from us?"

This post has been edited by ~*Silver Fox*~ on Aug 10 2012, 03:11 AM

[//Mystique]

Mystique's smile didn't waver with Fox's change in demeanor. What was wrong with an unstable personality? If Erik let Sabretooth be a member, surely Raven could hire such a skilled, but unstable woman. The fact she was a woman helped. Not that Raven hated men; but manipulating men usually fell into one of two categories and Raven did it so often she didn't want to deal with it 'at home' as it were. Women required a different approach. Not that many women in high positions Raven needed to persuade to do as the metamorph asked; so working with Fox would be q delightful change of pace.

The creamy skinned Assistant looked down at a watch for a second before her eyes fell on the ensnared beauty. "Who I am you'll find out when we get out of here. What I want is a woman with your particular talents that would enjoy tearing places like this down." Video loop was still in play, but all the same Raven wouldn't risk spoiling her surprise because of Fox's curiosity. She intended to bust Fox out of here without Weapon X knowing who she was. She'd leave a calling card, of course, but the message would be clear: anywhere, anytime, anyone, Raven could be there. She wouldn't slip up, and there'd be no evidence, but she would fuck up their operations and the only evidence they'd have would be the crater in the ground left in her passing.

"I saw the look in 'Isis's' eyes. Suspicion. I don't blame you. What I'm offering is a chance for you to make these bastards, and those like them, pay for screwing with people like us. You want to walk away when we get outside, try to hide from them when they try to track you down again, that's your call. I'll give you this one chance to show everyone out there," out in the world, "why they need to leave us alone. If they want to encroach on our turf, we raze their's to the ground. Interested?" The Brotherhood wasn't going to play Public Relations. They could carve out utopia for mutants, but Raven was at the same time going to gut their enemies anytime they showed their faces. If Erik had a problem with that then he should go back to Xavier's place and play Marry Poppins for all she cared.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

The blonde-not-blonde [or was she?] didn't bat an eyelash at the disruption. Maybe she was used to this sort of thing. Strife asked two basic questions, par for the course - who are you and what do you want? The answers may or may not matter depending on the woman's intentions. Honestly, Strife just wanted to get out. What she did after was probably dependent on what this lady wanted from her and what mood she was in if the faux assistant here could really deliver. Strife also hated being disappointed.

"Who I am you'll find out when we get out of here. What I want is a woman with your particular talents that would enjoy tearing places like this down."

Strife heard speech. Talk. 'When we get out' and 'tearing places like this down'. Places like this could mean anything - government facilities or Weapon X facilities or testing facilities or just any facilities that had people the woman didn't like in it. Did Strife care what kind of facilities? No, not really. She heard 'tearing' and 'down' and that was really all she needed. Strife wasn't particularly concerned about how Isis or anyone else felt about it. Strife didn't like not knowing what had happened, how WX had managed to screw up something inside of her again, maybe permanently. It would also be terribly difficult to 'fix' the problem if she didn't know what went wrong or what exactly was wrong. She did know there were one too many inputs in here and only one body for output. Three or four, or however many people were in here, did not equate to one. Maybe, before the place got wrecked, there would be time to attain some information on what had happened. How she..they..she?..had gotten to...this state.

The woman grinned, kind of. A smirk, effectively with some canines peeking out. "I'm good at tearing places down." And it'd be a pleasure to add this one to the list of casualties, along with every living soulless douche bag inside of it. Honestly, if that's all she wanted, it sounded quite doable. Still..

"I saw the look in 'Isis's' eyes. Suspicion. I don't blame you. What I'm offering is a chance for you to make these bastards, and those like them, pay for screwing with people like us. You want to walk away when we get outside, try to hide from them when they try to track you down again, that's your call. I'll give you this one chance to show everyone out there," -- "why they need to leave us alone. If they want to encroach on our turf, we raze their's to the ground. Interested?"

"I'd ask you who 'people' like us are supposed to be, but I won't insult either of our intelligences with that." Was she being recruited into some sort of mutant liberation force or something. "I suppose we'll both have to just wait and see. I'm sure we'll get along just fine." Gun-toting shape-shifter terrorist and gun-toting feral mercenary - it was an alliance that, no doubt, this country was not ready for.

[//Mystique]

"We will. I don't doubt it," the Assistant replied with a smile on her bright lips. How could two women so alike not get along? Well, if Fox had any delusions of leading the Brotherhood--like Magneto--perhaps they would not, but as two murderous women Raven couldn't see them having any problem understanding one another. They spoke the same language. Some would even quip they were both mad. Not that Raven was insane; she was quite sane, she simply didn't give a fuck. Best of all, if Raven did have to linger back at base coordinating activities then Fox would be an excellent field agent. Not quite the spy, of course, but if something needed "handled" then Raven could count on Fox to handle it.

"Now, I need to finish preparations and they'll catch on to me being here if I linger. I will be back," Raven said, giving Fox a promise she could count on. Not that the metamorph would tell Fox that; would call in to question any other promises Raven made.Still, promises were worth the paper they were written on--like paper promises were worth the armed forces backing them. Just happened Raven intended to keep this one.

She set the microphone down and gave Fox a playful wink before she turned to leave. Yes, a few finishing touches on the plan to set and then Raven needed to hook up with another pretty woman that could be quite helpful in the Brotherhood. Gods if she was stuck doing recruitment like this she really wouldn't get to be in the field again. One thing at a time, however. Soon enough she'd have a nice collection of mad and powerful women backing her in case Magneto got too... restless. Plus it never hurt to build up ranks if they were going to take on Weapon X and the governments of the world. Oh, yes, and establish a mutant utopia; at some point she'd need to recruit a city planner or urban density specialist or some crap. Or do what Magneto always did: find an alien spacestation and wing it.

[TBC: NYC // The Serpent is Coming (Boroughs)]

[~*Silver Fox*~]

"We will. I don't doubt it," the woman - this was actually a woman right? - said confidently. She sounded sure and, really, Strife guessed there wasn't a great deal of things over which they'd get mad at each other. Mystique was fine as long as Strife didn't plan to make a bid for the Brotherhood. If that was the case, it'd be a cake walk for them both. Strife had zero interest in leading anything involving anyone, much less go through the trouble of robbing someone else of the task. Strife wasn't really a people person anyway. The idea of having to be partially responsible for anyone's actions other than her own wasn't appealing. Even less appealing was the idea of someone else being able to interfere with her own goals via their failure. If she didn't get something she wanted, Strife only wanted to deal with herself. It was bad enough she had to contend with others within...here. All she needed was some troublesome lot on the outside mucking things up for her. While others might feel it was convenient to have a scape goat, Strife loathed the falseness of that sort of thing. Be responsible for yourself. Using a scape goat in that way was for the weak.

Don't confused that with setting someone up for the fall or framing someone though. That wasn't the same at all. You weren't evading responsibility in the shameful sense; you were covering your tracks. Indeed, if Raven needed something handled, Strife could certainly regulate. Alone, preferably alone. They'd have a problem if Raven wanted Strife playing babysitter.

"Now, I need to finish preparations and they'll catch on to me being here if I linger. I will be back," the mystery woman said. Pretty words. And while the woman had the air of someone who could back up said words, Strife was ever the skeptic. She was all about the show. The microphone was set in its place and the raven-haired captive was graced with a wink before being left to her own devices. Strife went back to sitting just as they usually did after the tank drained, restraints ever binding. They would hold anyone lacking her physical strength in place by sheer weight. The Native American feral just found them annoying. Annoyingly effective.

Strife wondered what state they'd be in when the woman returned. Weapon X could do a lot of things in a short period of time. She grimaced internally as a small cluster of scientists entered, headed up by the scientist-radical from before. He looked particularly determined and Strife knew no good ever came of a determined scientist in here.



((TBC: Silver Fox: Felis Vulpes Vulpes Theorem))