#drukilis

It was a rather clear morning in Drukilis. It was going to be a good day to stir up a little trouble.

Ray Drakeson, a far-flung decendant of Drake McCrae.

Rough color study and practice w/ cities and scale n' such

"He was a good guy to me... He took care of me! He taught me everything I know!"

----

The sounds of an aging city.

The din of metal clanging as a train sped along a ramp curving neon yellow light under its track, the sounds of nightlife that never knew the sun existed, and the caucophany of factory hums that could be felt throughout the city on either side of The Wall.

In the belly of Hawk Tower, a grand name for a building that hadn't seen a bird pass in over three hundred years, a man and his student prepared for the next assault.

"Hht!" A young boy shout through needled teeth as his eyes focused through a black piece of cloth meant to dull his sense of sight.

His mentor with his venom yellow eyes watched every movement he made as he ran through his routine...

After the boy turned fifteen, his mentor's voice barked harsher than ever with the pressure of disease always on the duster-favoring man's mind. "You're showing hesitation- again!"

The boy didn't pause to rest, throwing himself back into the arena- twisting his body and launching it through the air with flourishing spins meant to daze and confuse in the dark. Thanks to the metal, iron, in his left leg- he could go higher than ever.

But, still he hesitated to strike the holographic imagery of grotesque bodies. Their twitching and garbles were almost too real as he tried to swallow the stress of the next day's mission down harder than a horse pill.

"AGAIN!" He barked as soon as the boy landed- mechanical snake under the mentor's mesh shirt hissing moodily from his tone. The man's brows furrowed- skin wrinkling with age catching up to him. He was a 40 year old in a city with the average of 30 being the lifespan... He and one other man were the only ones to get so far, and there wasn't a coincidence; it was deliberate.

Still, the young man harkened to the call of his trusted elder.

Gripping the black and white handguns tight with white knuckles, the energy gathered in their barrels shifted from blue to white. His eyes glowed under the eye blind as he was about to kick off when... Light.

Light suddenly spilled into the darkness- making him flinch and turn both barrels at the only door to the room opening.

"None of that!" A different voice, softer, cracked and a mid tenor unlike the bass of his Mentor. Standing in a black lab coat with gold ornamental designs of bird feathers around the sleeves, the man whose father brought the first project into the world...

Tobias Hawk, lead scientist of Hawk Tower, whose autumn gold eyes saw everything... Stared over square rimmed glasses as his thin lips pursed at the Mentor who scoffed at the intrusion.

"And none from you either!" The scientist warned with a flick of his brows, a bruised finger pointed at the Mentor with a threatening jab. "What is taking so long for us to reach Grebellian Five? I thought you said Fifty-Six would hit it at three?"

"If you had just waited," The mentor scowled- snapping his fingers and allowing the lights in the training room to come on.

The young man, the Project, flinched. He sought to disarm himself by holstering his guns- then folding his arms while giving one a nervous squeeze.

"Then, he would have hit it hours ago." Henrik, the Mentor finished then, a copper colored snake head peeking from his collar. "Your father would have veered clear, and let me work."

A piece of machinery whirred within the Scientist's chest, pupils pinpricks as he flashed a brilliantly white grin.

"My father would have put you on the table again." Came the twittered reply, eerily cheerful and exact.

Flinching, the older man scoffed and hissed through his teeth, his snake making a similar sound. For the moment, he was in submission- sucking his tongue against a tooth while averting his eyes.

Glancing a little wildly from the current Project to his Mentor, the Scientist snorted- running a hand through choppy brown hair with a soft giggle that was almost too high- and then he snarled. "Put him back on the Drexcel and send him out. I'm tired of waiting for it."

"He's already on it," The Mentor opened his palm- gesturing while his tone remained unimpressed. He made eye contact then, ignoring the urge to just take one of his guns and fire. "He's been on it since last night."

"What?" The Scientist came to a hard stop, blinking dumbly as he looked at the Project... Noting finally the evident veins pulsing, the faster breath, and the slits on his cheeks that opened with each breath in... As well as the black dripping from his lips from an earlier cough.

"He hasn't elevated to a higher power level?" He asked then, folding his hands behind his back and walking over to the young man- circling him as if regarding a car at a shop.

"He hasn't done shit except nearly shoot me in the foot once, and his shooting's been sloppy." Henrik grunted. "About to beat some sense into that head of his, to let him know that he's not a kid anymore; I won't settle for less than perfect."

"..." It was brief, but as the Project wobbled just from standing, the Hawk's lips fell into a frown- almost soft in the eyes before he forced a harsh laugh that fell into babble. "I'll do it, you might break him. He's got the pain, hm? Growing pains-hahaa-just like I do. Father neversaid it goes away- never does- we'll just keep g-grow-gg-growinghehehe."

His head twitched, and he grunted as he forced a sharp breath- then lifted his head high with a manic grin. "Give him a dose of the growth hormones, and I will go consult his files to figure out how we should draw his Power out this time."

He turned on his heel- his lab coat fluttering as he strolled out, voice curling almost feminine before he lowered it with a sharp laugh. "OH and Henrik~" His hand pointed to him, glasses askew on his face. "Remember, he's your only Job!~ HAAHAHA!"

His wild bird-like laugh screeched through the halls as the door shut, Henrik snorting. . . Then his eyes getting more blood shot as his face reddened, and he barked at the project. "See what happens? You think this is all a game? How long is it, Fifty-Six, before you start shapin' up?"

The Project finally moved- his breath having frozen from proximity to his Creator... And he stumbled back, looking down at the stark white paneling of the floor, vaguely dyed blue from unknown fluids in some places

. "S..sr...Sorry..." He fumbled out through mumbles.

"It ain' good enough, Punk. He's gonna snap n' git me gone, you want that?" Henrik asked- his snake hissing and writhing under his shirt.

"HUH!?" He shout then- stomping at the Project who recoiled- hand to his head and scrunching the messy black curls as his Mentor approached.

"LOOK AT ME." Henrik demanded- voice seething and low- rough coughing following as his wheezes escaped. "YER gonna get ME Killed! Your only ally in this Damned City. You think someone else'll come along, and you'll find someone better to train with? To teach you how to keep yourself safe? To be able to fight anythin', and breathe another day?"

The Project couldn't meet his eyes- looking away as his shoulders scrunched up.

"You wanna end up like those other Clones- alone and locked away to rot in some fluid tube?" He snarled, grabbing the Project's shoulder tight enough to hear a crack. "Or you wanna see me die on that fuckin' asshole's table? Huh? After all I've got you to learn, and you'd like to see me put down like a dog- is that it!?"

Taking both his shoulders, before the Project responded- he spat- shaking the Project hard enough for the boy's masculine voice to crack and the young man to give a soft shout of pain.

"Listen to me!" He demanded, looming taller than the young man. "You trust me, right? Then fuckin' push yourself like it; you won't die from a little fight- you're a monster. A weapon. You're built for this. You're the most powerful thing in this damn city, second to my skill only!"

...His words faded in the young man's ears, eating away at the faithful memories of a time when there had been warmth in the calloused cold hands that gripped him. When the voice would soften, scoffing that he was training a kid...

...But he wasn't anymore, was he...

How could he expect that he'd ever be treated so warm again?

...After three minutes, Henrik finally breathed a little easier- then cuffed the boy on the back of the head. "Go get me a pack of Green Cigarettes from the Dealers. Be back in ten hours, the Bird'll be back by twelve."

The Dealers were far to the north, past the Malls... It made sense he didn't expect immediate delivery, but it was relieving for the projet to be told to leave.

The Project said nothing- biting his tongue as he took off at a bolting run- opening the door... Departing.

Was it night? Was it Day? Would he see anything besides the monochormatic shades?

Brief questions invaded the professional space of the Lead Scientist's mind as, dressed in a long pair of black slacks and a tank top... He leaned over a floating table, filled with screen-caps of video taken from his Main Project's camera...

Normally thin lips were relaxed, allowing color and shape to plush them against slightly darker skin than most Drukilins.

He stared over the cracked rim of his rectangular glasses.... Scrutinizing the shapes in the pictures.

Choppy unkept golden brown hair was finally brushed out- sitting comfortably around his ears and fairly shortened from when he was last seen.

Creases of stress rested on his forehead, and the thirty year old made a soft grunt as he traced his finger around a new limb coming from a common Alinolithe- one of the grubs.

Leaving behind a lime green- or was it a bright grey- circle, the scientist straightened his posture and gave a heavy higher pitched sigh.

In his top floor room, with thirteen screens all playing different feeds from different parts of his city, he felt the safest. But, as his thoughts would make evident, he was equally terribly vulnerable there.

The MAIN Project was sixteen, and yet in the years he'd been trying to shape IT into something to strike the final blow against the Virus...

He couldn't shape himself, no matter what he did, to keep up with the work of the company. Not to his ... Blood-Father's standards.

No no no, he was thinking too long, he quickly ripped his attention away - smacking himself in the forehead as he gave a soft giggle- gold eyes bloodshot as he strode over to his main computer in good time; being seven feet tall, regardless of bone pain, made for easy travel neh gotta always save the time- save and work faster and faster and-

SMACK. His glasses fell to the bridge of his nose from the strike of his own hand- fingers twitching above the keyboard before he began rapidly typing- not bothering with the chair covered in dust.

__Add->T.H. -> 3 PRJ-> Behavioral Study -> 4 Prisoner Request. __

And. Submit.

That would give him three new projects on top of the thirteen, and he surely wouldn't hesitate anywhere then, right?

Moving to a drawer of the desk the computer sat on, he grabbed a pill bottle- slamming three of the dark grey pills- then shuddering as his adrenaline kicked up- and chemicals activated.

Any hints of exhaustion disappeared, and he haphazardly tossed the bottle back in- turning to grab his labcoat. After donning it, he strode for the exit.

With his own blood burning, he ignored the constant paranoia- that lingering sensation of someone behind him- the hovering sense of someone about to grab... His... Neck...

Wasn't long until he was waiting in the elevator. That feeling still lingered...

He growled under his breath. "Leave me be, Father... I haven't stopped today... Don't speak to me."

It was a prayer, one often uttered in private company...

And one that made his breath hitch when he could hear a hissing laugh in his ear- so similar to his...

_HEhhehehehh...You're running behiiiind._

"Quiet." He snipped.

_Do I have to invade the systems again?_

"No."

_Do you need training?_

"No-nono, " He shook his head- taking out an electronic pad- silencing his thoughts and their voices by scrolling through intake reports from his other scientists assigned to lesser projects... "See."

_Better..._

The presence lingered behind him, and yet it wasn't so heavy as Tobias reached a hand up... Softly massaging his collarbones where the familiar Y shape scar rose under his shirt... Hours later, and he got the three new projects up and running in their very own rooms with petri dishes heavy from placement of virused cells.

It was back up to his main lab with him, the top room- and he paced antzy in the elevator as he scrolled through shipment requests- approving all of them.

Back to work with him, other work, different work.

Breathing heavier- almost lifting in his pitch- something the Project had learned to mimic from him...

His voice squeaked as he babbled to himself, "I'm gg-g-goingheh-hehh-stop-stop-don'ttalktomei'mbusy."

His throat was dry from his lack of self awareness of his needs, and as he walked back to his computer- his hand instinctively reached for a bottle with a rubber corked top.

Suddenly, he thought of the project...

Those scars... More scars. How many scars would it take... How many more before he Broke them. How much more could they take- and all those glorious blues- no- stop- stop! His- his hands- his hands- he needs them busy- don't- touch it!

He wanted to lose himself, he wanted to lessen the rush- to knock himself out... To bring silence- to breathe - oh Grander he wanted to breathe and silence the voice in his head.

He almost grabbed it when he slammed his foot, voice cracking into a higher pitch. "YOU FOOL! YOU HAVEN'T TOUCHED HER IN TWO YEARS!!"

Gasping- dry- his throat bobbed- absent of an adam's apple as he shook his head, snarling and knocking the bottle off the table with his head lowered- hair fluffing as he could feel the mad laughter of a deeper voice in his ears... Making him giggle...

"Work."

His giggling ceased as he logged in- maneuvering projects around and approving payroll- and responding to e-mails- and redirecting two projects that might terminate... His hands were cramping by the time he did everything in his log, giving a long shaking sigh as he stared down at the keyboard... Fingers slowly curling into fists as he leaned his weight on the keys- then stood up, hand to his head and tugging at the hair- things his Project had all done, and seen...

_Grab your tools._

"Shut up." He responded shortly, voice lower again as he turned- dropping his hands. "You won't have HER again."

_This is fruitless. You're insane! Do you think you can help it?_

"I have other projects." He grit his teeth- lumbering then out the main door- hand on the wall of the elevator as the doors shut behind him.

_You're pissing me off, Tobias. Remember where your FLESH came from._

"I..." His throat caught- tightening as he couldn't breathe until he smacked his chest- and he was exiting the tight space of the elevator - erupting in giggles as he walked out into the lowest floor the tower had.

The prisoners were here... He could... Just.... Let off... A little steam. A little cut. A little nick- it would be so easy. So easy- easier than alcohol- to see all those pretty red colors. Red - he so desperately wanted to see Red.

As the lights dimmed in the operating rooms of the empty floor...

A scream, followed by others, that wasn't his own rang through the halls like twisted music, cutting off after an hour.

Mad laughter then followed, replacing the fearful tune.

@writemeastorydaily _____ I knew I had made a mistake as soon as I leapt into the alleyway. My feet arched down to touch the steel-paneled ground, but it took a moment too long. Right leg tucked up slightly, left leg extended for safety’s sake because of the metal replaced bones in the leg, stopping at the hip.... I descended into blinding darkness. Cold and moist air whipped past my sensitive cheek slits; I squeaked and the five slits on both cheeks opened.

I was surprised, and felt uncertainty pang into my chest in a manner that reminded me I was sore from my rough running exercises cross-city... Hundreds of miles had been traveled already; I had been chasing higher scores in endurance and parkour was faster than walking everywhere.

Now, I could hear water rushing angrily- like the sound of a crowd stampeding out of a collapsing building. It sent a shiver up my curved spine as I briefly wondered if the impact would not just shatter my landing space, if the water were too shallow, but my hip as well. Would the reinforcements be enough?

Hollow noises echoed in my ears briefly as I passed empty concrete pipes; the hole having been created by discontinued construction. At one point, I heard a startled tenor voice reach my ears.

“Shit!” It was a fleeting exclamation, but just as fast as the person was level with my ears... I was plunging past them and further descending closer to that angry water.

It was my first experience being immersed in water... My surprise coming out in a cut off yelp as cold water splashed to make way for my entry- rushing up my denim pants and throwing my tank top up to my armpits as the impact left the flesh of my left leg aching... But the sheer cold was a more pressing manner; I had never experienced water above my head before- feeling myself lose control as I tumbled....

And tumbled...

And tumbled more- gravity didn’t make sense here- I couldn’t inhale the water though it tasted stale in my memory... When I tried to open my eyes, nothing. That made no sense either; my eye-blind had slipped off upon my entry into the water! At the very least, wouldn’t I see the energy signatures of the city’s underground power grid?

Yet, it wasn’t there- and my cold shocked mind tried to piece together the novel idea that I had fallen deeper than the power grid... Into the sewers that I had been told were long since shut down. But, the water was so deep; in hindsight I should have known it to be caused by the massive torrential downpours we’d been having.

My lungs ached much in the way they did when I laid on my chest for too long. Compressed, and still I was spinning and feeling like I was lost in entropy. But, then I had an idea.

This idea made me realize these were rapids. I could very well be dying, right now, and I had no way of knowing how to swim to help increase my chances of survival. . .

So I relied upon what I did know: Energy.

With my hearts eerily slow because of the lack of oxygen, I shut my eyes and focused my sense of touch into my arms. Drawing more and more energy from the awakening blue diamond-shaped crystal in my pelvis... I managed a burst of light to surround my body- my mind then having the bright idea to immerse my entire body in the energy- including its core and flesh.... mind....

I never learned how to swim... But that let me learn how to enter the energy plane of existence... The kind that ghosts, spirits, and aura could be seen inhabiting.

My entire being felt like it was light and airy, forces no longer wreaking havoc as I opened my eyes- shedding light in the water to see the murky browns and blacks that polluted it. But, urging myself to head up, my body shone light upon the ceiling of the pipeline I had twisted into. I emerged from the surface of the water  - a bubble noting my exit from the physical plane downriver that I heard echo up and past where I was.

Blinking, I took a breath in of the air that reeked of Drukilis’ pollution... More so than on the surface... But I didn’t dally in this; my energy was waning uncomfortably, pain although familiar... Unwelcomed as I then willed myself to thrust upwards - jetting energy from my feet and legs...

Streaking through the very infrastructure of the underground, I saw brief glimpses of the rebel camps... and labs previously unknown... A hideout of sorts with strange shelves and things that were square with white insides lining them! It was exciting- but that break in concentration almost killed me as my arm acted like it got scraped- a streak of flesh missing from my energy just before I phased through the steel-paneling of the city’s ground.

Feeling air, I lost control of the sensation- all but willing to leave that airy feeling as I fell to solid ground with an unceremonious “Auhf!”.

My mind was reeling with trying to process the moment, my eyes gazing upon the hazy ever present pollution clouds of the city. Watching special hovering cabs fly by on wire-paths.... I blinked away some ... fluid? From my eyes... How strange, I felt this compressed sensation - pain down my sternum and between my collarbones. I kept forgetting what this emotion was called as more of the glowing fluid leaked from my eyes while I processed the terror of spiraling through nothing...

That would be what Limbo had to feel like... No ups or down- just .... No control and darkness - no matter how loud you try to shout or scream and glow... Not until you erase your own existence entirely would you find freedom... Maybe.

Wiping my eyes, I coughed up some water and sat up then. Touching all over my soaked body and then tenderly patting the spot where flesh went missing on my right arm... Blue glowing blood flowing freely from it to the ground until I burned it with focused energy spitting from my fingertips.

... The dizziness was back then as I pressed my left palm to my forehead, coughing again and trying to take deeper breaths though my already damaged pectorals were aching terribly with the effort to breathe...

My Virulian watch then glowed, spitting out a hologram message from my superiors:

Congratulations. You have survived another random prompted test from: Tobias Hawk. Please accept our greatest appreciation for your refusal to accept death by reporting back to BlackOut what the FUCK YOU JUST DID THERE. Your energy readings are FUBAR.

Thank you,

BlackOut Sci-team for Bio-creature Management

:

Hours passed… And her powers were cooperating less and less… Plus it had started to rain. 

Akiri peeked out around the corner of her hiding spot within a turned over dumpster unit… Nothing… It seems she had cleared the area out well enough to avoid screamers coming.  Not the least bit satisfied, reality came crashing down on her as she felt the sting of the bite marks covering her. 

“I didn’t meet a single human… The South has fallen… Completely. From the infection.” She said aloud as she retreated deeper into the dumpster. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore, Grander…. Alright. I get it… I should have been focusing back here but … This isn’t my… It’s obvious what it’s turned into…” She muttered to herself as she slumped to the bottom of the container but kept her eyes trained on the outside.

“This isn’t… I don’t…. Want to be here.” Akiri hissed and then realized the entryway to the dumpster was blocked. Her mouth hung open as she stared into a familiar face- but her lip curled as she let out a scream of horror.

Henrik, her first mentor, was likened to a nightmare. His pale face was split and riddled with bullet holes while his lower jaw was missing replaced by thirteen wispy tentacles coming from his throat. 

He didn’t recognize her either. Akiri pressed herself against the back wall of the dumpster, trying to summon her energy to act as bullets but suddenly…

Nothing.

She had nothing- except for the blue blood tracing down her body and the three hearts in her chest.