Chapter two, yes... finally. So much for that weekly update schedule, huh? I also apologize for the massive amount of spelling and grammatical errors in the first chapter. I guess that's what horrible software does to you. At any rate, I've revised it and removed the errors that plagued it. I hope you enjoy chapter two.
Chapter 2
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The burning sensation in his eyes grew greater with the seconds he stood eyeing the screen; his pupils became dilated while he became more focused on reading the second and third paragraphs, which caught his attention. After reading it silently to himself, which only took a few seconds, he released the grip his eyes had on the lit square.
Realizing how hard he was breathing, he stood up into the straight position he had before hunching over, letting out a sigh. His eyes flew across the screen again for reassurance of what he had just read. Momentarily after double-taking on the memo a few times, the navy blue eyes that sat underneath his forehead drifted to the walls, which he hadn't got to explore more thoroughly due to the concentration he used to focus on the rough looking ape.
Maneuvering around the fallen rolling chair in a fashion that wouldn't move it from its place, he eased his feet over to the crimson colored wall. On it rested a few frames. Golden crests accompanied the pictures along with text of different fonts. Each glass-protected case held an individual image, displaying his or her own personal portrait. He took a look at the first one in a long line of them that repeated down the room.
It displayed a rather conceded faced raccoon that was obviously making an arrogant pose. Below the name tag, 'Caimen Vinnard', was a small bit of ranking information coated in silver.
Five Star Ranking Officer, Fleet Leader and Tactics Squad
1974-1997
-
He stepped to the side to view the second one, seemingly piercing the glass with his eyes. It was a rare occasion when he ever laid eyes on a female. The format of the picture was the same, displaying name, job, and status. It was a striped tiger who wore glasses and used pins to hold up her massive amount of hair. Strange, she didn't look like a mercenary or someone with battle experience. Perhaps she was an employee or a scientist.
Marcile Levington
Social Worker, Genetic Analyst
1963-2001
-
Positioning himself in front of the next one, again, he had no idea whose picture he was looking at. It was a wolf, and a fit one at that. A cybernetic eye patch covered his left eye and a protruding scar was noticeable sticking out of it, disfiguring his fur in that area. Ren could take a look in his eyes and tell that he was a battle hardened veteran. He shared the same eyes he saw in himself and everyone else around here, the eyes that spilt blood as a habit of life.
Wolf O'Donnell
Registered Mercenaries, War Tactics and Assassination
-
A blank spot accompanied the space under the description, implying that whoever this wasn't deceased. He stood rubbing his chin, lingering on a few things before moving on to the next picture.
This one had the face of a middle aged raccoon that was too, alive. In his lab coat, he seemed to be proudly holding a test tube that contained a light blue liquid. The young vulpine squinted his eyes in effort to make out the specimen that seemed to be inside. It appeared to look like a worm or embryo of some sort.
Reece Allele
DNA Arrangement, Genetic Placement
-
Upon approaching the next frame, Ren saw the portrait of the individual inside and suddenly felt an inside impulse to spit on its exoskeleton. This was one person in which he wouldn't care if he ever laid eyes on again. He took a moment to recall all the times he and his squad were criticized for minor objective anomalies by this crook of a man. It only reminded him of the equivalent amount of fear and hate he had acquired for the commander.
Andrew Oikonny
Vice President, Assistant Manager
-
Looking down the line of frames, he realized there were too many to go through individually. There was a row above the one he was looking at, and one above that, and so on. However, at the top of the seemingly endless pyramid of squares, there was one that was noticeably larger than all the rest. It lacked crests, stars, text displaying rank, status, and job. Straining his eyes again to see, he could make out the image of an ape. He was large for his species, just as tall as he was wide. The small facial features weren't visible, but he could definitely make out something sinister about the mug, specifically the shape of the eyebrows. There was also something unnerving about the eyes, something that gave a feeling of instability. It felt as if the pupils in the image covered by a gleam of light output by the creature could see right through his very thought.
Involuntarily, he took a step backward. A sharp, yet mellow sound broke his gaze. Strange as it was, for some odd reason, he found himself avoiding direct eye contact with the face. The metal braces on the heels of his shoes made loud clanks on the floor when he moved. He had guessed for a while now they weighed about fifty pounds or so each. They must have been applied to all the footwear around here. Sometimes they felt so heavy on him and he got tired of carrying them around after about a week. He wondered how the VMF's around here wore them twenty-four seven. Come to think of it, he didn't know if they did or not.
His train of thought was wondering again, as it did often. This was one characteristic no one else but him among all the others carried. No one else he conversed with was an intellectual. He mentally slapped himself before walking slowly to the center of the room, near the bear corpse rug. The mouth was forced open, and it had a surprised look on its face. He glanced over at the file cabinets on the opposite side of the room that caught his eye. Closing in on it, he noticed the wooden handles on each box had titanium-like number locks.
"Whoever did this is completely ignorant," He thought.
Tearing the metal locks through the wood would be too simple. It would also arouse suspicion if the were noticed ripped in two. It was the obvious thing to do, which was why he thought otherwise. Kneeling down on one knee, he gripped the lock with his left hand and held it in the loop of his right ear. He listened closely as his right hand fingers rotated the dial. A small click was heard, and he stopped the circular motion. After repeating the process a few times until the clicking was no longer audible, he yanked downward on the round centerpiece. It came loose, as he expected.
Sliding out the door of the cabinet and letting the lock rest on kneecap, his eye caught only one file.
"Odd."
There were numerous cabinets aside from the one he was looking at. Perhaps luck wasn't on his side. Taking two fingers and opening the file cautiously, as not to stray anything out of order, two or three sheets of paper flopped to the side of the paper file. He took them out and hastily eyed them. All he wanted was a bit of information, just a bit. He wanted to know more. Anything that would give him a clue of what this place was truly was.
Lists of names were printed in vertical rows. Not alphabetically, nor chronologically. Last names were abbreviated.
Shawn D.
Marshall W.
Trevor B.
Janice L.
Lance O.
Leroy F.
Marius H.
R & R
Henry F.
Spencer A.
James M.
Larry B.
Justin P.
Daniel K.
Jonathan T.
This was simply the first page and he was eager to view the next one, however, the bolded letters on the page stole his attention. Skimming quickly through the pages, he noticed none of the rest of the names were bolded, nor did any of them have any differentiation from the other ones, except those letters. "R & R" wasn't even a name. Perhaps they were initials.
The orange-red ears parallel to his head fur perked up suddenly as the white fur inside them picked up a vibration. His legs straightened instinctively and his fur stood on end. The lock fell to the floor with thud and he rushed to pick it up. His fur stood further up as the thumping grew louder.
Louder. Louder...
He grasped the lock in one hand tightly and slammed the cabinet closed with a foot. He clipped the lock in place while staring at the door, hoping whoever was coming wasn't as close as his sense of hearing told him. Sprinting across the room, he nearly tripped on the head of the slain bear as he flopped in the rolling chair across from Andrew's desk. He straightened his posture, trying to remain calm. The carbon dioxide forced its way out of his mouth, and the sweat rolling down his fur from anxiousness was wiped away with a quick paw.
His stare continuously remained on the decorated door. Never had he panicked like this before, not even in stealth. He had been flanked once at point blank range while sniping and not been as tense as he was now. The thuds turned into fast footsteps coming down the hall. His fist clenched and his muscles began to num. Vibration seemed as if it was visible on all the objects in the room. The frames looked like they would fall any moment. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He wasn't sure.
The door flung open with force potent enough to break the wooden plaster interior. The ground quaked under his feet.
Ren couldn't help but flinch, and he didn't dare turn around in his chair to face whoever proceeded into the room. He kept his head facing in the forward direction as he did most of the time when dealing with the VMF. A large gray-haired figure was caught zooming past the corner of his vision. Immediately he sighed, knowing that it was Andrew and no one else. Anger and frustration could be seen plastered on his facial features. The clamping of his boots ceased when he reached the front of desk, and he murmured a few obscenities while setting a small, handheld radio like device on the wooden surface.
"Shit... we have the weakest form of employment in this sector. I swear it."
He ran his oversized fingers through the gray locks beginning at the end of his long side burns. His fingers tapped the hollow material impatiently and the light from the monitor made the sweat collecting on his forehead all the more visible.
"No..", the kits mind raced.
The monitor, it was still on. He hadn't touched it at all. It displayed the same screen as it did when Andrew left the room. Was he at fault? Most likely, it was his decision to get up from his seat and read the text. Andrew had specifically told him not to move. If there was any evidence of this, he would surely be punished to the highest degree.
"Now then," the ape sighed, removing Ren out of his mindful state.
"We were... ah, discussing your placement." The anxiousness portrayed by his face earlier was no longer present. "The mission priority is at the maximum level. No one can be removed once the placement decisions are finalized, which they have been for the past hour. Furthermore," taking his fore finger and thumb, using it to parch his head on the desk with the help of his elbow, "Andross has finalized the participants. His decisions outrank any official rules."
The ape's eyes shifted to the monitor of his screen. Ren flinched as his expression simultaneously switched to suprise. The pupils of his eyes were clearly smaller, even from this distance. There was a moment of silence. The thumping from his temples could be heard in his eardrum as he stared into the face of the one across from him.
Strangely, the look on Andrew's face suddenly dissipated, and a normal, casual look plagued his mug.
"That is all, you are dismissed." The ape stood up shortly afterwards, pointing to the door.
"The escorts are waiting outside, go to them."
Never before had he felt more awkward, more out of place. Had what he read on the monitor been too irrelevant to matter? Or was Andrew actually not giving it a second thought? Either that, or he was just a douche. After all, he was prone to stuttering at meetings. Leaving classified information visibly ledgible wasn't exactly smart either. He got up from his chair slowly, watching Andrew's face as he circled around the chair. It seemed suspiciously casual, not his type of mask at all.
"Go on, you're wasting my time." He muttered.
With that, Ren turned his back to the ape and walked as fast as he could to the exit.
Upon turning the door handle, he noticed he was actually turning it the wrong way. He tried it again in the opposite direction, but to no avail. Squinting his eyes, he look at his hand, which was supposedly moving in the opposite manner the nerves in his brain were telling them too. Right was left, and left was right. A small sting ran up his spine and seemed to stop with stunning force on his cerebellum. The fingertips at the end of his furry paws felt as if they held a numbing electric charge that stole the life out of every other part of his ligaments. His legs began to twitch, and blood seeped from his mouth and fell on to the very clean and decorative rug.
Falling to his knees, he gripped his abdominal area in attempt to suppress the feeling of regurgitation. His sense of hearing was shot. Distinctive and deep monotone mumbles came from the opposing side of his direction. With his lower heels finally giving out, he fell on his back, shaking violently. The blurry, shaking image of a moving figure coming closer became dimmer. A blue light emitting from the arm of the figure was the last thing he could see as the eyelid shades covered the rest of the foreboding image of the black outline.
-
"It is said that dreams are molded by reality. Without that outside influence, fantasy cannot be born while we sleep."
-
Marius lay face up on his bed, a magazine resting beneath the solar plexus of his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, panting for a moment. The lights shined into his eyes once he opened them, blinding him until the iris compensated and absorbed the fresh UV. He got up, folding the magazine and sitting up on the mattress. He tucked it carefully under his bed and out of sight.
His gaze drifted over to his roommate's bed, which was tidy and made. It disgusted him in a way. No one cared whether or not the bed was clean or organized, the only person who ever really saw it was him. It was this child-like behavior that made the young kit seem all the more annoying. His emotions were too erratic, too focused. He seemed to care about the least critical moments in life. He was an odd one, but perhaps his age and inexperience were completely to blame.
Another thing that caught his attention was the small crumbs of dried blood that were easily seeable on the white pillow. Yet another pointless matter in which he cared nothing about. If the runt was sick, he should see the medic. The only reason he'd even asked the pup to get treatment was because the situation affected him. It would only arouse unwanted attention and hype between the A and B ranks if someone noticed his condition. This was something he didn't want. Social activity was high between the ranks, the last thing he needed were rumors spreading about.
The boy was probably being scolded or punished somewhere for rebellion. His attitude got him nowhere. It was strange however, he himself had never been questioned by an official but once, which was a long time ago. It was an experience he hoped to forget quickly afterwards. Obviously, he hadn't. The one he was scheduled to meet held and impression unlike anyone he had ever seen.
He stood up, shaking the thought from his head. Stretching, he cracked his neck and made his way over to the sink, where he washed his hands and face off. He turned the knobs on the sink effortlessly and walked over to the nearby clock. 12:25 a.m. was displayed by the hands. The constant ticking of the second hand filled the room with solemn air.
"Five minutes till lunch," He spat greedily. "About damn time."
A knocking sound to the left of his position caught the dogs attention. The bar windows which were parallel to each cell were audible, even though it was just barely. He made his way to the front cell doors, looking both ways to assure that the VMF's were no where close and within earshot. He stealthily walked over to the windows and stuck his ear to the crack.
"What do you want Conner?" Letting his muzzle muffle his voice to a whisper.
"Me and Marshall need to talk to you at lunch, make your way to our table at the south of the cafeteria."
"What for?"
"This is some weird situation, eh? With the sudden high-priority assignment and all..."
"No shit. Answer me."
"Hardass, as usual.." He murmured, clearing his throat. "There are a couple of rumors floating about concerning the equipment we'll be using in the mission."
His ears suddenly perked. "Who's been snooping?"
"I've no idea but apparently they've got some balls."
"No kidding," The husky glanced over at the clock, which hands displayed 12:27. "All right, the table in the southernmost corner of the cafeteria?"
"Yeah and hurry, most of the C ranks try and hog it as soon as they prance in."
Standing up from the vent bars, he inspected the things visible in his room with a quick eye. Nothing was in the open that would arouse suspicion. Making haste to the bar doors, he looked to his left and right, seeing a pair of VMF across the hall in the left corner of his eye approaching his cell. Immediately he stood in position, feet together, arms at the side, head facing forward. Two soldiers dressed in clad black stooped in front of his cell. The electronic doors slid open upon camera recognition. One security camera lay in front of every dorm cell, supposedly to be used for confirmation of escorts before a door was electronically opened.
"March."
He stepped forward and out of the cell, keeping at a steady pace and doing his best to stay in the middle of the hall. He had recalled a few new patients who had been immediately whipped their first few days simply because of unparalleled movement when being guided to the cafeteria or conference room. The dog wanted no more permanent scars polluting his backside.
Only the sound of metal braces connected to his feet clanking against the floors metal interior could be heard. The men behind him made no such sound when they walked, the very small clattering chirps coming from behind him must have been others coming down the hall. Usually he never heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind him, they were guided one dorm after another.
"Must be in a hurry to get everyone in and out." He thought.
Seeing the light at the end of the long tunnel that protruded in from the cafeteria was a relieving sight. The walk from here to there everyday could only be taken a few times in one lifetime. He was then guided over to the lunch line, which wasn't very long as he originally expected. It was simply luck he'd gotten here first.
After a moment of waiting he came to the buffet, which consisted of whole wheat cereal, a few servings of high-protein meat, and a bowl of slop in which was the default option for every meal of the day. This 'slop' wasn't given a name, it was only known to have immense amounts of potassium and electrolytes, which was something Ren told him. He shook off the disgusting details and proceeded to stand in line.
After obtaining his plate from the bar he inspected the southern part of the cafeteria. The sides of the walls contained VMF positioned against the exterior. Four of them, heavily armed, guarded every visible exit, all positioned in primary defense form, obviously. His gaze cast itself across the massive cafe to the south section of the structure, in which he immediately spotted Conner and Marshall, waving their hands in a hasty motion. Giving a sigh, he headed over to his acquaintances with curious pace.
Pulling out a chair, he sat his plate on the metal surfaced table, hearing a distinctive growl come from beside him.
"Lazy bastard... go figure."
Swirling a bit of mush around his with his spoon, he braced himself for a straight reply. "Cut the crap Marshall, tell me what you know."
The badger's eyes shifted over to Conner for a moment, whose accurate Owl vision picked it up immediately.
"Rumor has it," He began. "the material listed for the assignment is some kind of newly engineered gravity device."
"The source?" Marius spat almost instantaneously.
"I'm not too sure if it's legit, but my cellmate who was recently transferred from another dorm tells me he witnessed one of the imports from Katina. The objects looked rather large, like some kind of hydraulic machine used for architectural development. Basically meant for lifting objects that weigh a few tons."
"Doesn't sound too surprising, we've handled construction before."
"But the odd thing is," He started, eyes wide open. "the machines had wireless linking spectrums connected to their frontal lobes, you know, the kind that are meant for invisible methods of transferring energy."
"I thought it was pretty damn odd, especially considering the fact none of us has even had training using the prototypes of these machines. Seems like they were in a rush." Conner said, taking a sip from the water jug.
"Since when in the hell does Andross run a schedule?"
The two on the opposite side of the table seemed perplexed at the sound of the name. It took a moment for Conner to compensate for the inner shock that momentarily bestowed on him.
"No idea, but how do these crackpots expect us to work complicated machinery without the initial training?"
"I don't know." Marius sat up from his table flipping the spoon in his fingers, taking the tray supporting an empty jug and bowl with one hand. "We'll half-ass it like we always do, passing it off perfectly."
Not giving them a chance to respond, Marius turned around in the direction of the trash bin towards the exit until at the blunt impact of an object halted the movement of his left shoulder. Instinctively pivoting his feet to face in the opposite direction, his eyes caught the sight of his tray resting on the ground.
"Watch were you're going, dumbass."
A rugged looking raccoon, eyes half open and slouching over, stood inches from Marius' chest breathing in his face with a huff.
The coon appeared about six feet tall, weighing in a couple hundred pounds. Marius glanced at him at first, a lower class badge was visible on his right side and his fists were balled, veins protruding through the invisible veil of the skin. The raccoon threw his plate onto the table beside him, closing in on Marius' face.
Conner shot up from his seat, as did Marshall which seemed to gain the attention of some others in the front side of the café.
"Sit down kid," The coon remarked. "Before I put your ass down right here."
The dog glanced past his opposer looking at the perplexed faces of the patients in the front. He eyes shot over to the VMF securing the exits. They seemed to be unaware of the situation.
"Seems that the fresh meat needs an attitude adjustment."
The coon, who seemed disoriented due to his uneven posture and lazy eyes, took a moment to slowly ball his fist. Very sluggishly, after a coughing fit that lasted a few moments, the coon threw a punch that held a path completely desolate of its intended trajectory. Marius easily side-stepped the large animal as he tripped over a seat and fell to the floor, limbs shaking violently, saliva spewing from the mouth.
The dogs eyes widened as the coon's eyes began to slowly fill with the crimson color of hemorrhage. He began to hold his chest and thrash violently, knocking nearby chairs astray and disarraying the tables.
Without notice, the coon was brought down by a powerful discharge of electricity given by a high voltage weapon. He shook as cracking noising polluted the café and smoke emanated from his crazed motion. The room fell silent. The coon hit the smooth metal floor tile with a loud clank as the nearby soldiers rushed over immediately to check his condition.
More silence. The VMF crouching next to the fallen body checked his pulse.
"Nothing" He stated flatly.
Another standing up monitoring the situation came closer to the body and knelt also. "Seems we've got another rejected one. The people at purgatory are gonna love this."
"Funny" he sarcastically replied, radioing for additional support for transportation of the body.
The VMF closest to Marius pointed at him.
"You, sit."
He did so without hesitation.
"The hell.." Marius thought, "we never have health situations in this complex. This would be the first I've seen."
He glanced over at his lunch strewn across the floor, then to Marshall and Conner, who remained stunned by the confrontation as well as the outburst of rage and agony of the coon.
"What'd you do to him?" Conner pondered out loud.
"Dunno. Don't give a damn. You shouldn't either."
Never in his time here had he seen a problem like this. It was always pointless to fight patients because in the end even the E ranks learned quickly that the only enemies they should have to worry about were the ones they were forced to incapacitate on the battlefield. It seemed as if the coon's anger was derived from somewhere else in this case, he was just the final push over the edge. The blunt faced fury seemed artificial.
Marius could probably form an accurate guess about the situation here, but it seemed meaningless to him. Whatever knowledge he would gain from it would be useless to him and every other patient at this facility.
