Baser Instincts

Completed one-shot storylines are archived here after their completion.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Baser Instincts

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"You were involved," summarized Forsythe. "Of course it bothers you. Life comes with its burdens, and they must be shouldered."

He fell silent for a moment. "You were involved in an incident that has marred Transhuman rights for all the decades to follow, up to this very day. I was made as I am by a man that is both championed as a captain of industry and reviled as a historical monster. Many assume that Alexander Ruthven's greed infects me, that I would seek to acquire through political means what he attempted to obtain through warfare or savage Capitalism."

The mouse sighed. "I crave power, there is no use denying it. As I woke among the undead, I felt a dark stirring in my heart. Rhode Island's shores were a speck on the horizon and I couldn't help myself but to think of them as tools to put to use for my own ends. The ship's passengers felt small and insignificant - and that horrified me. I may have been a member of the English gentry, I may have shown the reservations expected of those in my posting - but I was raised to be a good man, miss Jameson. I could feel the last embers of the child I had never really been be whisked away - but I refused to let go of the man I had been.

I crave power. Unlike the other Cabal, however, I would seek to use it to spare the world from the barbarous ends of my own condition. Every day sees me wrest that core of greed towards noble ends, and the temptation to simply let go is omnipresent. I could let go, stockpile riches, disappear as the illegal undead do - but I would no longer be who I wish to be. I would be as my maker wished me to be. An abhorrent, flawed duplicate of myself."

The elevator dinged, the label reading Chairman's Office. He looked back to her before proceeding ahead.

"So, I understand your burden of responsibility."
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Re: Baser Instincts

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Mary couldn't help but smile at this feeling of common ground between them. "Thank you," was all she could say. He understood how she felt, which was rare enough even before the op.

Following him into the office, though, she cleared her throat and rearranged her features into professionalism once again. "So, um. I've brought the SCRT aug specs like you asked for, as well as a list of all officers that participated in Operation Blood Feud. About eighty percent of them are accounted for, many on my own payroll, and most of the rest we can probably track down from here. The ones we can't..." She shrugged and let the sentence hang for a few moments. "Well, our perp is likely in there."
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Re: Baser Instincts

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"This would align with our estimates," concurred Forsythe, walking past Justinia's empty office into his own. The space fitted the Chairman: expansive and lavishly-appointed, but with a kind of Spartan attention to detail that focused on lessening obvious signs of immortality. Several wooden filing cabinets lined the walls, their handle-less surface appearing sleek and modern. An understated Bose satellite radio receiver waited on a drinks counter, surrounded with a small bar's worth of beverages. The mouse's high-backed chair was turned away from the wall-spanning baywindows that overlooked Vienna's circular core, with LED strips in the ceiling and floor lighting up at intervals to push away the daytime gloom.

As big as the place was, its function was rather obvious. As humble as Forsythe wanted to be, some vampires only respected displays of power. This was a space tailor-made for confrontations between millennia-old leeches expecting some rinky-dink office and an easily-influenced rodent, a place where Forsythe could unquestionably appear as the leading force behind the Vienna Accords. It was designed to have people gawp upon entering, and especially to have people gawp who'd come in with contemptuous or misinformed preconceptions.

The only dated element in the room was small, and fairly telling: a double-jointed picture frame waited on the desk, all in bronze-cast Paisley designs and delicate ovoid shapes. Within these two ovals waited two daguerreotypes - Hiram and Jocasta Holden. Forsythe's features were easily recognizable in the human male's own, as well as Archibald's and Arthur's.

What struck the eye, however, wasn't so much any of this as the three racks on wheels that had been placed in the middle of the space. On them, and suspended on wires or locked in place with clamps, were reconstituted skeletons made up of all of three companies' known robotic or mechanical augmentations.

The black skeleton, in a slightly chromed finish, was of Goliath stock. The Council had probably bought one of Goliath's top-sellers for security services or augmented detachments of standard armed forces. The Hoplite series focused on agility and mêlée combat, the ridged surface of polymer-actuated synthetic muscles having an almost lizardlike quality in the open air.

The blue one was of Alkaev make, recognizable by its use of modern vaccuum tubes that were designed to poke out of the user's own skin, along with a few heat exhaust ports. This was the full set of 1998 Cossack enhancements, designed more for threat deterrence than active lethal use. An ideal fit for spies or anyone wishing to keep to a lower profile whilst in combat.

The light green one was of IsoTech make, obviously dating back to before Mary's buyout of Lambert's company. It was blockier, cheaper in appearance than the other two, but IsoTech had always been known for the sturdiness of its products. Everything electronic could fry easily, yes, but you'd have needed two or three supernaturals' amount of strength to break or dislocate a joint. That was because the demon-led Triad had always preferred simplicity and durability over quality. Lambert's offered augs had been a cinch to hack or otherwise flash with core-tampering firmware, to the point that the company had discouraged the use of wireless connectivity implants that it sold.

Buyouts being what they were, it'd be a few years before the now Jameson-led IsoTech would put out safe revisions of Lambert's old products.

On Forsythe's desk waited one-off examples of tertiary aug producers: Nakamura joint sockets and nerve receivers, a France-made LaRoche cranial CPU socket, an American Bionics hand and wrist system and a Paradise-sold forearm enhancement. The last one was big, distressed-looking, blocky and didn't seem like it'd be practical on a day-to-day level. With only three articulated digits and fat neural connectivity ports, this was more the discerning casual Transhuman's hardware of choice - destined for someone who wanted to make a shocking fashion statement.
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Re: Baser Instincts

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"Nice office," Mary said to herself as she and Ming walked in. She saw the effect Holden was going for, and she approved; a few slight touches and her own offices, in Hope and in Hong Kong, could have the same impact on visitors.

But clearly, the focus of the day was on the augments that were displayed. Glancing down, she saw some of her bags had been brought up here, and bent down to retrieve them. "These are standard issue for SCRT," she explained as she withdrew a pair of elbow-length black gloves and a pair of thigh-high black boots. "Nakamura, though, not IsoTech." She demonstrated their use, sliding the gloves on and plugging them into the ports in her arms; they contracted down and shrunk into a virtual second skin, and she held her hands up. "Look closely," she instructed, flexing her fingers. To her own eyes, all that happened was her fingers got slightly blurry, but maybe Holden could see the thousands of small barbs that were now extruding from her fingertips. "Anyone wearing these can climb straight up any surface you can imagine, even glass. They won't overcome your own limits, though, so you still have to train and condition yourself for climbing and freerunning."

As for the boots, she glanced around, and then with an astonishing lack of anything resembling modesty she kicked her shoes off, then undid her pants and pushed them down. "I hate trousers anyway," she muttered sourly, glaring at them as she pulled the leg-born tech over her feet. A distinct hum could be heard for a few moments as they found their slots, and then it subsided again. "Now these have magnets in them, very powerful magnets," Mary explained, acting like there was nothing wrong with showing off like this. "You can jump much higher and farther, keep your balance and orientation in mid-air, and landings are a cinch. I can freefall from atop a skyscraper and land on my feet just fine wearing these; wearing an exosuit as well, I could jump from low orbit and survive without a parachute. Leave a hell of a crater behind, too."

There was a pause as she regarded Forsythe for a moment. "I'd show you the rest of my augmentations, but you'd have to cut me open to do so, and we're not quite that intimate just yet," she joked, although her tone made it hard to tell if she was joking or not. "Or perhaps you could open a window and I'll provide a more direct demonstration? It's a little warm in here anyway." Now that was a joke, right? It had to be, no one just swan-dived off this place in just a shirt and undies whenever they liked. Did they?
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Re: Baser Instincts

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Forsythe had simply stood nearby, arms crossed and a circumspect gaze affixed on Jameson, at least until her pants came off. Then, with a bristling mustache and widening eyes, he turned away and sighed in obvious disapproval. "Good God!" were his only words, quietly voiced and carrying an obvious undercurrent of embarrassment. The rest of the demonstration had the big mouse offer three-quarters of his back to her, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, head bowed and eyes closed. His ears, however, indicated he'd listened to every word she'd said.

In spite of all this, he couldn't help himself but to sneak in an oblique glance, brown eyes flecked with verdigris supernaturally flashing before disappearing behind pinched eyelids.

"There is no need," he replied, sighing as he recovered his composure. "At this altitude, my opening a window would cause a decompression. Miss Davis would have my head if the created gust had me lose a few papers. Or several."

He coughed, dismissing what remained of his unease - and pocketing the interest he was ashamed he'd displayed. "I, er, suspect your internal augmentations predominantly concern your spine. Exosuit or no, no mere mortal spinal column can withstand the sudden application of several Gs of force, much less the exponential application of your own weight due to acceleration. Neither could your legs. Before any enhancements can be provided, basic safeties must be added. Even a layman in body augmentation such as myself knows this much."
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Re: Baser Instincts

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Mary had to repress a chuckle, although both her and Ming were giving him looks of impatience. "SCRT is completely unisex, you know," Mary explained as she disconnected the boots and began taking them off again, although the way she stood as she did so, Forsythe would have a decent view whether he liked it or not. "Any modesty gets burned out pretty fast, and lucky me I've got a little streak of exhibitionism. Besides, we don't really have time for modesty or chivalry." The boots were off, and she took the gloves off the same way. "I could have had Ming demonstrate for us, but he doesn't wear them as often as I do so it wouldn't be the same."

With the gear removed she turned and bent over, presumably to stow it all back in the bag, but the mischievous glance over her shoulder kind of ruined it. Finally she tugged her pants back on, grimacing slightly as she did so. "You're right about that, though. My spine and my legs are the most heavily reinforced, although my neck, arms and torso aren't left out either. All our internal augmentations come from Goliath; we needed sleek and unobtrusive augs that could still perform, and as you can see, IsoTech isn't exactly unobtrusive."

"Some of the higher-ranking officers have their augments replaced with Masterson Armature pieces when they retire," Ming explained. "Mostly as a fashion statement, I understand." Given Masterson's reputation for not sparing any expense, this was not a hard thing to imagine.
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Re: Baser Instincts

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However unavoidable were Mary's next displays, Forsythe judged it prudent to stick his hands behind his back and to look away, taking a few seconds to look supremely interested in a currently muted-out news broadcast. Once Jameson's pants were back on, however, he looked back to her with a tiny sliver of perceptible relief.

"How likely are light Transhumans such as yourself to desire more invasive procedures after their tour of duty?" he asked. "What you've shown me speaks of at least some level of restraint, of a desire to safeguard civilians from potential abuses, even if the psychological effects were evidently underappreciated. Our perpetrator was fully masked during the slaughter in Moscow, but it did provide us with viable camera footage."

He paused. "No mere exosuit was involved, miss Jameson. Our man was extensively outfitted with bionics, hence the displays you see here."

Heading for the television he's glanced at earlier, he switched the input channel and pressed a button on some small, black device that was rested on a shelf underneath the monitor. A hazy and greyish grid of four distinct feeds came up, showing a throng of youths moving in an oddly slow manner. A few seconds in, things would become clearer: this was high-speed footage, and had recorded Moscow's vampire ravers as they danced and guiltlessly plied their strength and speed in what they believed to be a safe space. Then, from the bottom left of the last feed to the right of the grid, a bulky white figure walked in, its gestures smoother than the rest of the throng. The first few long milliseconds involved the figure slicing through the necks of two fledgelings with a short blade, the dancers still moving, unaware of the dark globs of blood that were slowly starting to stream out of their necks in apparent slow-motion. By the time shock and pain registered, the assailant was at the other end of the room.

The speed began to pick up - or rather slow down. Panic made the fledgelings return to near-mortal speeds and reaction times, but the man was obviously trained. Blades slid out of his forearms once two vaguely lucky vampires managed to disarm him, spikes jutting out of his forearms and shoulders in order to discourage active grappling. The ravers - kids for the most part, people barely out of their mortal lives - had no grasp on their own abilities. They fought, and some did with bursts of supernatural speed and celerity indicative of greater control - but none were trained.

Immediate anger turned into terror. The brave ones had already died, leaving the others to bolt away from the broad-shouldered man with the energy of desperation. A spotlight landed on him. Only one organic detail protruded from his helmet or mask: a high ponytail the likes of which was typically left to men's fashion. He slowly, casually walked over to the DJ's booth. The fanged entertainer could be seen nervously pulling out a gun, only for his wrist to be contemptuously broken.

The cyborg seized the DJ by the neck and made him face the nearest camera. The helmet headed closer, the assailant possibly telling something to his victim.

The DJ then looked directly into the camera, looking terrified. His lips moved, as if he'd been told to say something, but the grainy feed made it difficult to figure out what had been mouthed. Then came a shaking two-fingered salute - almost to mock either Mary or Forsythe.

The DJ's light pants were seen darkening around the crotch. The cyborg let him go, almost in disgust, and stalked out of all four cameras' ranges, presumably to finish the job and butcher those leeches who had been trying to escape.
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Re: Baser Instincts

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Mary shuddered as she watched the feed, and her guts roiled. The man was definitely former SCRT; she recognized the ebb and flow of his movements, the way his reactions fired off. Too bad the footage was so grainy, or she might have recognized him, mask or no mask.

"Those spikes are not standard issue, and I can't recall anyone who ever had something like that done," she said, her voice steady in spite of her emotions. "Neither are the arm blades, although having such installed in prosthetics after the loss of a limb was not uncommon." She shook her head. "Whoever that is, I can almost guarantee he was one of the officers SCRT let go after that night, willingly or otherwise. Not that that's much to go on, given how many were let go, but still."
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Re: Baser Instincts

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"We've worked out of less information in the past, miss Jameson," laconically answered the mouse. "Our man is nothing compared to some of the more resourceful or unlucky sorts we've have to track before. He is no myth or legend, for starters - he exists."

Forsythe made his way back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom. "Doctor Crane, I need your assessments on the perpetrator's physical traits."

A few clicks later, the plague doctor's soft voice came in. "I've sent everything to your desk, Chairman. Good hunting."

Turning his computer on, Holden set the lights in the office to dim down, and then cued four holographic projectors that were set in the floor. A quick jaunt over to his transparent curved desktop screen later, motes of light shone in the air, organizing themselves into a three-dimensional render of the perpetrator, the left hand's palm turned away, the right one facing forwards.

"Ostensibly male, camera heights allowed us to determine he stands at about five feet six - a bit on the short side, then - and that he must weigh close to two hundred and fifty pounds, with all his hardware. Our pheromone analytics show he experienced waves of exhilaration while performing his grisly work, perhaps even a mite of righteousness. Our Cantors showed he wielded no faith, however. His task was performed methodically, with a near-complete moral detachment from his actions. His gestures were stable - perhaps too stable - indicating the use of pricey gyroscopic augments... Even you happen to be fidgeting slightly, miss Jameson - even the most trained of mortals can barely keep her balance without constantly readjusting her gravity center."

He looked back to Jameson. "Tiny flickers of volition across your waist and arms, the more primitive corners of your mind ensuring you don't simply collapse unless your weight is evenly distributed, evolution's failures along the spine constantly being compensated for... Our man has made it so his sense of balance supercedes yours, then."

The display shifted, showing a tiny browish spike seen through an electron microscope. "That ponytail of his will be his undoing... No previous SCRT records correspond with this hair's gene sequence. We've used it to extrapolate on thumbprints and Pedway records worldwide - no match to be found anywhere. The man's a ghost. He is, however, of Mexican descent."

Pausing the display, he then looked back to Mary. "Five foot six, a slavish devotee to Transhumanism and a staunch believer in the bestial nature of us undead, with a foot somewhere between Nogales and Tapachula... Does this ring any bells?"
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Re: Baser Instincts

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"I'm confused," Mary replied, her eyes darting from the screen to Forsythe and back. "You called me in because you were sure the perp was SCRT, and watching him now I can tell without doubt he had SCRT training. He might have cross-trained with us, true, but we had records of all those officers and soldiers as well. And now you're saying he's not one of us?"

Either way, the Mexican angle made her think of someone. "...Samuel Ortega?" she suggested.
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