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Predators (Accepting/Started)



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Tue Aug 13, 2013 5:57 pm
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Auxiira says...



Kofi Burak | Agent


I poked my head around the door, checking that Amaria was done, then sidled in.
"Amaria, I sorted my tresspassers. Are you done with the pretty girl?"

"What pretty girl?"

"Witness-chan here." I gestured to the girl sitting in the chair, slightly dazed. "It wouldn't be you."

"She has nothing to do with you. Did you check on the rest of the Numbers?"

"I haven't, no. But then I doubt that they want the buzz-cuffs."

"Fine, you can go now." She said sorting all her stuff laid about on her desk. The girl looked confused at all that was going on and then spoke up.

"Can I go, um, as well?"

"You can come with me, cute lady. May I ask your name?" Mable tried not to smile at me, but was failing.

"Mable, but you can call me Mabe, some people do." she said running her hand through her hair.

"I assume madam here has told you that you can't leave. I'll show you to your room, Mabe." I flashed her a smile. Amaria looked up from her paperwork with a scowl on her face.

"Wait, Mabe, I'll get Tom to show you to your room, I forgot to tell this guy something," she put extra effort into trying to make her voice sound polite. Must be so hard for you.

"Where is Tom?" I asked. "He didn't look too good earlier."

"Really? Well, I'm sure he's much better now." She went over to her wall of communications and dialed for Tom, he came within a few minutes of being called each time. He was one of the most programmed of the fifteen. It annoyed me slightly for some reason. I'm sure he isn't. An uncomfortable silence sat in the room until Seven arrived. He came in quickly and looked terrible. Why am I not surprised? Amaria smiled.

"Hey, could you please take Mable or Mabe as she is sometimes called." She paused to wink at Mable. "To her room so that she can get settled in, and I promised her a tour of the place since she'll be working for--I mean with, me for a while. It would be great if you could start it for me." She grinned at him widely and then at her making the whole scene very awkward. Then like clockwork Tom nuged his head towards the door, and Mable followed him. "Thanks! And have lots of fun you two!" she said with a drawl and a giggle. They both left in a hurry and did not look happy.

"...You...what was that," I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing! Just showing her some hospitality, and trying to brighten Tom's day. After all, she is pretty isn't she, they'd be great together." she said smiling at me mischeviously.

"Yeah, sure. She's just another girl who blushes at a smile." I lifted my cup to take another sip of my coffee.

"Hmm, and I saw you were giving her one. I really need her for something serious here, and I don't need her falling for you, okay? I need you too. Tom on the other hand, he's, well, Tom."

"You "need" me do you? But you didn't "need" me enough to tell me that we had a witness. That's nice. Maybe you "need" me for other things. Other needs."

"Shut up! Some things are classified, even for you. You don't exactly need to know everything and anything, and you didn't need to know at the time. You still found out didn't you? Don't talk to me like that." She was furious. I smirked.

"Only found out because I went to smoke. And you didn't deny that you needed me for other things..." I set my cup down on her desk and went to stand right in front of her. "Did you now?" I whispered, the smirk still dancing on my lips. Her eyes were wide open and her breathing quickened, she turned away and whispered,

"Get away from my face,"

"Make me." Slight fear raced through her eyes and then anger came, she pushed me away and slapped me across the face. I blinked and stepped back a bit before smiling again.

"That actually stung a little. Are you trying to deny something? I find they always sting more."

"What's wrong with you? I-I need you to leave," she walked away and went back around her desk pretending to go back to work.

"Then I'll leave." I picked up my coffee and made for the door. Three, two, one...

"Wait!" Hah. I stopped and turned to her. She walked towards me and stopped in front of my face.

"I thought you wanted me to leave?" I smiled. Women can never make up their mind. "Or do you not?" She looked into my eyes, our noses inches apart.

"No," she whispered. "I don't." She pressed her lips to mine, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. [/i]So this is what you want.[/i] I kissed her back, smiling slightly.

"Were you jealous, Amaria?" I asked, drawing back a little.

"Don't make me say it." she said laughing softly.

"Why not? Afraid that you'll like it?"

"No, afraid you will, and a little too much."

"I'll stop flirting with the little girl."

"Good. And I'll admit, I was a little jealous. I won't say it again though. Now, kiss me." My lips twitched and I pressed them to hers again, twining my hands in her hair.
You read faster than Usaine Bolt sprints xD - Deanie 2014

I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. - Cathy, Wuthering Heights





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Craz says...



Lori - Predator Number Nine

Lori stared at her wrists, where two rather harmless looking bracelets encircled them. They were even attractive-looking in their simplicity; sleek black rims that reflected the world around it, as if it were casually observing this strange world at the advantage point just above her slender hands, and a scarcely visible hue of light blue echoed against her skin. A small blue light winked at her, nestled next to an almost invisible opaque black dot that broke the smoothness of the bracelets' surface.

If she was to pass a store with this in its window, she wouldn't have minded paying for something otherwise useless, if only for the reason that it appealed to her a way that cosmetics or flashy nail polish would appeal to female humans. But she knew, just as she knew how to assemble a sniper rifle under forty seconds, that one of those dots was able to send a signal to some computer nestled out of sight, signalling the other dot to activate the powerful electricity currents that would render her useless. When Lori had tried to ask Kofi about how many volts it carried, he had replied in a cross growl, "Enough to stop a Number dead in their tracks. Now get."

Now the bracelets rested on her upper legs, where her fingers clenched together. Lori knew that she's shocked a good bit of people when news about her furtive hacking spread; out of all of the Numbers, Lori was by far the most loyal to their government. She now had an emptiness, like an empty cave, in the center of her chest that formed a question that couldn't become words, or couldn't be answered.

Am I having an identity crisis? An ironic voice said in her head.

Something caught the attention of her eye, and she watched a stiff back make its way to the elevator. She recognized it; the rough but clean wool of the jacket, the mossy brown swish of hair, and the stubble she could see tickle the base of his ears. Something kicked inside of her, something impatient and angry that butted its pointed head whenever someone mislead her. It made her want to act, but she was at a loss for what to act on. So instead she turned away from his back, narrowing her eyes on a cup of coffee abandoned at one of the counter tops.

She never really trusted Tom that much, mainly for the glasses he wore. She didn't like that someone could see what was going on in her head, that someone could see what she wanted to do before she had the desire to do so. For that reason she avoided him at most costs, and during those few moments that both their presence were needed she kept her mind carefully blank, silently and dutifully building up the cement wall to protect herself in. Lori knew that Tom knew that she at the least didn't trust him and at the most didn't like him, but he kept silent about it.

She couldn't walk up to him like she could have any other person; not after the hacking, not after the sleek prisons wrapped around her wrists. However she knew how to get his attention by other means.

She took an unnecessary large inhale, and then cleared her mind. Then, in one loud mental burst, she shouted, "TOM!"

Just before his finger touched the pad to the elevator, his whole body jerked backwards. He swiveled around, obviously at a loss for who's thought it was, and Lori continued to stare down the coffee mug. His eyes were slightly wide when Lori peeked at him, as in he was surprised that she had called him, or that anyone had called him at all.

"Yeah?" he asked in his serious but quiet tone.

"Follow thirty seconds behind me, somewhere private. Don't look at me when you walk." Lori thought. She slid off of the counter she was propped onto, walking towards the back of the floor. She couldn't see if he was following her or not, but she didn't dare to look back. Almost all of the floor was serveyed by cameras, all except for one blind spot on the stairs, where she had talked with Catkin earlier. She moved towards that, relaxing her shoulders and glancing around as if she was just wandering.

She walked up the stairs, a little bit of tension she didn't know she had easing when a short moment later she heard the stair doors open and close behind her. She casually went to the blind spot, only a few feet wide and hidden under a platform higher up the stairs that coincidentally also hid them from the camera up there, and waited as Tom pretended to continue up the stairs but instead slid under the small platform where she waited for him.

His lips made a move to speak, but she quickly pressed a finger to her mouth. She took a deep breath, a slither of dread slithering up her spine when she reluctantly broke down the walls that protected her, letting him see what she saw. She replayed her memory all the way back to Ralph's death. Tom's eyes widened behind his spectacles, and then narrowed in anger.

He began pacing, strangely mimicking what she had done before when she was talking to Catkin all the way down to the hand to his lips. She watched him warily, as if he was something she wasn't sure what to call.

Tom seemed to be lost in his own head, so with an insignificant edge to her voice Lori said quietly, "Tell me everything you know, everything you found out with Ralph. I knew you two were always acting strange, sticking together and getting quiet whenever anyone came within hearing distance when you two talked. I showed you what I know, now show me what you know."
"we'll fasten it with some safety pins and tape and a dream, and you're good to go, honey."





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Skydreamer says...



He was tired of being told what to do; he felt more machine than man at those times when he was simply commanded. And now he had to awkwardly spend his day doing nothing, at Amaria's command. Why couldn't they leave? He was restless, there was nothing to do, and after meeting Mable and seeing the freedom of her life while looking at her, he felt slightly bitter, and angered at his own situation.

He was in his room, basically running through his thoughts, when he decided that it would be best if he just took a walk outside for a little while. Mable had been faking excitement the whole time and he was glad to be rid of her. She was pretty and potentially nice, but she was too concerned about her own situation and feelings. Twice he almost told her that he could read her mind, but she had already revealed too much about herself to him without knowing it. She'd feel so embarrassed he told himself. Also, he didn't really want to compromise that advantage.

Sighing he left his room and walked down the halls. She had decided to go and get some stuff from her apartment, or so she told him. He told her he'd go with her, but she refused. Shrugging he made his way to the elevator to the first floor. He was about to press the elevator button down when he heard a thought. This was so rare for him, people rarely communicate with thoughts so he knew that it had to be a number, either that, or--he shrugged it off and concentrated on the thought, "TOM!" it was a passionate thought, if it had been spoken it would have been a shout or scream. He shuddered and turned, his eyes went wide when he say the bright blonde number nine staring at him with intensity.

"Yeah?" he said out-loud, understanding something grave was about and so taking everything very seriously.

"Follow thirty seconds behind me, somewhere private. Don't look at me when you walk." she continued to send him thoughts through her mind waves. He didn't know what to do but what she said, so he waited till she started off and then followed her. His shoes barely hit the ground, he took careful steps each one monitored and each one soundless. He didn't dare look at the cameras because he knew that if he did they could read him. He was part computer so it was easy for the computers to control him. That's why they kept entering his thoughts, trying to get him to believe things and such. And that's why he was the most controlled of all the numbers, or at least that how he seemed. He watched her enter the stairway, and he followed her in, he knew the camera's wouldn't care if he did what he usually did once entering the stairways which was closing the doors loudly. He did so and watched her disappear in the shadow of the blindspot on one of the higher stair areas. He pretended to be walking up the stairs and quickly ducked down to the hidden place. He was very confused about why it was that he was there. He opened his mouth to get answers but was stopped by her motioning him to be quiet.

A moment after that she was looking at him with intensity and her memory of the night was flooding into his view-space. His glasses were organizing everything, pointing out all the key things. Alleyway, lying on the floor, needle-like mark on the neck the notes came through to him one by one. He felt both overwhelmed and frustrated, he wished there was something more clear, something he could act upon but it still was a huge mystery. There were many possibilities and he started pacing thinking about the different options going through her memories. Then he came to the memory with her and Catkin. His mind stopped, what was that? S.G.E.E.S. Number Thirteen exhibits signs of unconstrained to superiors. Signs of individual thoughts and actions have occurred. Authoritative is beginning to wear off of subject, action must be taken immediately. What?! He asked himself again. Ralph was not authoritative at all. He was just discovering all the lies that he was being fed. It was tiring him out considering he was specially designed to find people. His enhancement was more hands on though, he just could find people, like a dog. If he was given a slight scent or cloth or anything of the person, even just a face, he could find them. Tom could read people, he could find people. They often worked together.

It was how the two of them got so close. If Ralph had been there Amaria would have never called him to find the girl, it would have been Ralph's job. He clenched his fist, as he remembered his friend. It was so hard for him, knowing that he would never again be able to discuss things together. Like Lori, a lot of the numbers where wary of Tom because of his computer glasses and his ability to read minds and view memories because of it. Just in that way alone his "specialty" was his burden. And it was the same for Ralph, the guy always had a feel for people, it made it hard for him to be around anyone but Tom because he'd know their presence too well, and everywhere they were he'd be picturing it in his mind; he would never be able to get rid of it. Something then clicked in Tom's mind. Wait. He would never be able to get rid of it. He would know where the person had gone, and what the person had done. That must have been why he was at the alleyway! He was following someone, finding someone. Or did someone program him to find them? Lori softly and nonchalantly broke through his thoughts,

"Tell me everything you know, everything you found out with Ralph. I knew you two were always acting strange, sticking together and getting quiet whenever anyone came within hearing distance when you two talked. I showed you what I know, now show me what you know." Tom sighed.

"He was figuring it all out." he sighed again running a hand through his hair in slight frustration at the whole thing. He wanted to know more; he wished he could know more.

"Figuring what out?" Impatience laced in her voice, dropping it a note. She was now leaning against the wall, her blue eyes icy with the vague answer, her arms crossed over her chest. Tom sighed, and resumed pacing. Suddenly Tom stopped and mirrored her glare,

"What does it matter to you? All you have to do is do what you're asked, which is to stay here. You didn't know Ralph, you don't know me, so why so curious now?"

Lori's eyes widened at his outburst, and then narrowed. She jerked her chin up, obviously not intimidated by him. "I might have been loyal to them before, but that was before I knew that there was something to be suspicious about. What I want is the truth, and as you can see-" She held up her hand, showing him a matching thin black bracelet around her wrist, "-that I can't get answers by myself. Your my closest bet, and if I were you I'd be happy to let the rest of us know that we're being tricked." He cooled down a bit seeing the fire in her eyes and knowing he could never win, after all she was right. He had to let the other's know, whether or not he wanted to, it involved all of them, and it wouldn't be right or fair for him to keep it to himself.

"Alright then," he took a deep breath. "We don't control all our movements, our actions, our minds. Well, you have more control of your mind than I do. But, have you ever even thought of just saying 'I don't want to kill this person.'? Probably not. Or maybe as you were thinking that, another thought came in telling you what you had to do. Or maybe it was Amaria or Kofi, especially Kofi in your case. Ralph said he wasn't sure it had anything to do with them, but he knew that we were being controlled. And he knew that it wasn't fair. Just because we weren't fully "human" didn't mean we should have to be tracked and controlled. We have our rights too, at least that's what he always told me. At first I didn't believe him, but later he pointed things out to me, and he showed me ways I was being controlled. Like if I take my glasses out right now, what'll happen." He took the glasses off, and his face started to turn red and slightly purple as if he was struggling to breathe, his eyes were shut tightly and when it seemed he could collapse on the floor he put the glasses back on. Almost immediately his features cooled down. "See? They are controlling me, and I bet you they're controlling you too. In one way or the other."

Lori's lips had gradually thinned over the course of his speech, the small notch appearing between her eyebrows and her eyes staring at a grey speck on the opposite wall. She was completely still, her chest not even seeming to move as if she wasn't breathing. She stayed like this for several moments longer than he would expect, to the point past where Tom was getting uncomfortable and almost peeking on when he should be concerned. Then she breathed, a heavy and drawn out thing, and finally looked at him. She didn't need to explain; even without the glasses, he could have easily told that he had been correct when he said that they could be controlling her. Even though he had already guessed at it, the verification of it seemed to weigh heavy on his shoulders.

"We have to tell the others." She said, quiet but strong. Tom began to nod, but as he made a move to leave she spoke again. "And we need to figure out a way to get them out of our heads. Then we're leaving for good."
I believe in that, which is not seen.
I call it truth, faith, hope, life.


~~~~Sometimes life beckons us to be different~~~~

I used to be known as thewritersdream, but now my dreams have taken flight





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Basil says...



Aisha 8

The night before was a blur to me. I vaguely remember standing in the Headquarters, processing the news that Ralph was dead. Ralph, the sanest, strongest of us all. The one we all depended upon. The one that was learning things, but I couldn’t see what.
Then I was sent to my room. I slept for the rest of the night, and most of the morning. When I woke, I found that plenty of things had happened, like Lori and Catkin had hacked into one of the computers in the morgue. That surprised me, but thrilled me. Finally, some independence!

Tom has brought a human girl here. Says she’s a witness. Maybe she knows something about Ralph’s death? Something the humans won’t pick up on instantly? But what’s this about her staying here? Aren’t there enough humans here already?
I get all this within seconds from a computer screen beside my bed. I groan and lie back, rubbing my eyes.
Get up, one of the voices in my head says. I know this one isn’t one of them because it doesn’t sound mechanical. Something’s up. Get up and find out.
I get out of bed and dress in a plain purple shirt, the sleeves ending in tight cuffs on my forearms. I put on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, and attach my belt knife to the brown belt around my waist. I grab my black hair and tie it in a loose plait, letting it dangle over my shoulder, and stroll out of the room I call … home?

I make my way to the morgue, my eyes glazing over so people assume I’m in one of my “states” – when my schizophrenia kicks in – and slow my pace, my steps becoming less assured and lacking purpose. My mind skims over every detail from the day before, but I don’t feel any emotion, except a great depression at Ralph’s death.
I study every human I pass briefly. Most are just the people that walk around, doing this or that. I pass an Agent, but show no response. As soon as I’m in a hallway where there are no more humans, I “suddenly” come out of my “state” and walk down to the end of the corridor. Guards stand there, watching me suspiciously. I glance at them with disgust and contempt, and they look away.
Kill them, the second voice – sounds male, can’t really tell – says firmly in my mind.
What?’ I exclaim mentally.
Kill them! See what happens, the voice says simply.
I can’t do that, there are camera’s everywhere. I’d be killed myself, straight away,’ I retort.
Yes, rational thoughts! The first voice chirps. This one sounds like a female.
Oh, you think you’re so smart? The second voice snarls.
Yes! the first voice snaps.
“Just shut up,” I groan aloud, rubbing at my face.
“Pardon Eight?” One of the guards asks.
I turn to face them. Both are staring at me as though I’d just asked them a mathematical question. Because everyone knows how amazing I am at maths!
"Does it look like I'm talking to you?" I snarl, and walk away.
Woops, wasn't supposed to get angry. I’m supposed to be calm and collected, waiting for Kofi to come so I can see Ralph's body. I allow my anger to slowly peter out, and I head toward the Headquarters. On the way, I spot two predators beaconing me over. I don't identify them straight away, but not slightly, and they continue on. i turn in a circle, stop to stare at the wall in front of me, as though I'm in another of my "states", and then make my way in the general direction of the other predators.

As I walk, I notice Keigan walking toward me. She stops beside me, and I stop walking too. I stop the growl threatening to burst from my throat, and try to smile.
“Hi,” she says in a way that makes it obviously she needs someone to talk to. She looks very distraught, too.
I nod in return.
“Where are you off to?” She asks.
“Somewhere,” I answer. “I … don’t know,” I look around, and scent the air.
Keigan does the same, and I start walking in the direction I know the other two predators to have gone. Keigan follows.
“I can’t believe Ralph is dead,” Keigan begins. “It’s like a nightmare, and we’ll all wake up and he’ll be alive.”
“There’s a human here,” I murmur.
Kill it, the male voice says.
Shut up, I silently snarl.
“Um … yeah, there is. And none of us are allowed to leave the building, which sucks,” she continues, undeterred by my lack of interest in what she’s saying. “I just went to the gym for a while, you know, to just get rid of my nerves and stuff. I don’t think it’s working. Or maybe it’s just me.”
“No,” I say, looking her in the eyes. “It’s me.”
She gives me a curious look, and I walk on, ignoring her presence. She continues to talk, but I zone out. Soon we come to some stairs, and as we walk up them, I notice that all the predators are huddled in the blind spot of the security cameras.

“Is that everyone?” Lori asks.
Catkin – number fifteen – does a head count. Predators one, two, three, five, six, ten, eleven, twelve and fourteen are here. So are Keigan, Tom and I. Lori nods and turns to Tom.
“Tell them what you told me. It’s about time everyone knew,” she says, her voice cold and angry.
I stare at her in shock. That’s the most passion and emotion I’ve ever heard in her voice. But my shock is morphed into horror when Tom begins talking:
“We don't control all our movements, actions, or minds,” Tom begins. “Well, a little at least. But, have you ever even thought of just saying, 'I don't want to kill this person.'? Or, ‘I don’t want to do this, it’s dangerous.’? Probably not. Or maybe as you were thinking that, another thought came in telling you what you had to do. Or maybe it was Amaria or Kofi saying to just do it, everything will go as planned.
“Ralph said he wasn't sure it had anything to do with them, but he knew that we were being controlled. And he knew that it wasn't fair. Just because we weren't fully "human" didn't mean we should have to be tracked and controlled. We have our rights too, at least that's what he always told me,” he looks around, and everyone murmurs in agreement. “At first I didn't believe him. But when he pointed things out to me, and showed me ways I was being controlled, I knew he was right. Like if I take my glasses off right now, what'll happen?" He takes his glasses off. His face begins to turn red with a slight purple tinge, as if he was struggling to breathe. His eyes are shut tightly and when he begins to sway, as though he’s about to fall, he puts the glasses back on. He waits a few seconds, and his face returns to its normal colour, and he breathes normally again. "See? They are controlling me, and I bet you they're controlling you too. In one way or the other,” he finishes.
Everyone murmurs angrily amongst each other. I stare at Tom, understanding what he meant by the voices, telling us to do our job. Some of the predators don’t look too convinced, so I decide to add my two bits worth.
“Tom’s right,” I say. “Sometimes, when I feel like doing something else, or my schizophrenia decides to make me do the opposite to what I’m being told, a mechanical voice stops me, and commands me to do as I’m told.” I take a deep breath. All attention is on me now. “I know it’s hard to go against their will, but I’ve found a way you can do it. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve managed to warp my brain so I can think for myself. Feel my own emotions, and do what I want to do.”
“We can do that already,” number five growls. Some others nod their heads in agreement.
“That’s not what I mean,” I snarl. My hands curl into fists, and I start breathing in and out slowly. My rage cools, and I notice everyone is watching me curiously, waiting for me to speak. This is the most I’ve said in a week!
“Over the years, I’ve managed to warp my schizophrenia so that I only have the voices that aren’t mine. Now, it’s as though I really am schizophrenic. I have voices in my head that talk to me, tell me what to do sometimes, but they can’t control me, and they’re not like the mechanical ones,” I suck in another breath. “This morning, one told me to kill the guards, just to see what happens.”
More murmuring and confusion.
“Wait,” Catkin cuts in. “So you’re saying a voice told you to kill the guards?”
“Yeah, the ones outside the morgue,” I confirm.
“But …” Keigan looks at me in astonishment. “Did you?”
I shake my head. “Why would I? Why would I put my own life in danger just to sate curiosity? No, I didn’t. They’re not dead. But that’s what I mean. A voice told me to kill someone. The only way that could of happened is if I had more control over my mind.”
“So you’re saying we need to find a way to take control of our minds?” Lori asks.
I nod. “Think of all the times you’ve done something you know you wouldn’t normally have been able to. We’ve already started to think for ourselves, because we’re standing here,” I smile, and indicate that I’m not going to speak any more.
“What now?” Catkin asks.
Lori looks around at the expectant faces, a small, evil smile playing across her lips. “Now, we take control,” she declares softly.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food?
Of course I am.
Why?
Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.





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Sun Dec 08, 2013 2:13 pm
Swiftfurthewarrior says...



Catkin Predator Number 15

I stand on tip-toe to see Aisha and Keigan trooping up the stairs and do a quick head count. All of them here.

I sift through the pictures in my mind and look closely at the message.

S.G.E.E.S. Number Thirteen exhibits signs of unconstraint to superiors. Signs of individual thoughts and actions have occurred. Authoritative is beginning to wear off of subject, action must be taken immediately

Wait, authoritative had to be a drug. The one they injected? And showing signs of unconstraint to superiors. Why would he do that? What could he have done to make them restrain him?
Then again, it might just be one big code.
My blood froze. They suspected him of going rouge! That must be it.
I opened my mouth to share my suspicions with Lori, but just then Aisha started talking.

“That’s not what I mean,” She snarled. “Over the years, I’ve managed to warp my schizophrenia so that I only have the voices that aren’t mine. Now, it’s as though I really am schizophrenic. I have voices in my head that talk to me, tell me what to do sometimes, but they can’t control me, and they’re not like the mechanical ones,” I suck in another breath. “This morning, one told me to kill the guards, just to see what happens.”
The predators started muttering in fear.
"Wait," I interrupted. "So you're saying a voice told you to kill the guards?"
“Yeah, the ones outside the morgue,” She confirmed.
I slip out a notepad and jot down my thoughts, put it away and start reloading my gun and dry-fire it to check the springs.
Once I was satisfied, I twirled it around my finger and slid it into it's case.
Tonight is going to be a long, exhausting one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, I was in my own apartment parked in front the high-tech government computer.
I cracked my knuckles and began typing a long complicated code to ward off any other hackers or security systems.
Now that's done, I'll research the drug. I typed into the search engine, Authoritative drug, effects and uses.
The results left me speechless.
I scanned the results and clicked on the first one.
Authoritative, n Authoritative is a suppressant drug often used for interrogations and relaying messages without suspicion. This drug is know to suppress emotions, thoughts, and any desires to contact other humanoids, resulting in a machine/zombie like person.
WHAT!? They used this on RALPH!? I ground my teeth angrily. If and when I get my hands on the person who did this, I'd make him wish he'd never been born.
A sudden idea occurred to me. If we predators were genetically engineered, then if we knew the correct process, we could change our own genetic makeup.
An evil grin sneaked it's way across across my face. I'm going to pay a visit to the animal trainer.
I swiveled around to face the monitor and started to hack my way into the security systems, disabling the monitors in Lori's apartment and mine.
I turned back around and watched as the light on the security cameras and hidden monitor blinked for a moment, then went dark.
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Tue Dec 10, 2013 2:15 am
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Basil says...



Aisha 8

I find myself watching one of the workers play some strange game where a small ball moves from one side of the screen to the next. I’m sitting directly behind him, perched like a cat on a swivel chair, eyes trained on the ball as it moves across the screen.
Boop, the female voice chirps.
Shut up, the male voice growls.
Boop, she continues. Boop, boop, boop.
I said shut up! The male voice snarls again.
Boop, I chirp with the female voice. “Boop. Boop. Boop.”
The man on the swivel chair cries out and spins around. I stare at him for a moment, and then narrow my eyes. He blushes and looks down.
“S-s-sorry A-A-Aisha,” he stammers.
I don’t speak; just stare at him with narrowed eyes. They dart down to his nametag, and I’m about to make a snide comment when I hear something. I let my eyes glaze over, and my ears tune in on the voices.
“…Drugs that won’t have that sort of affect,” a man is saying.
“I told you it would be dangerous,” a woman growls. “Schizophrenia, psychopathy, insanity …” the voice fades like static. I struggle to listen. “… Are prone to be more resistant to the Authoritative.” The woman concludes.
Damn. Guess this isn’t going to be good news. Or maybe it will. Just gotta find out.
“… Drug will be placed in the food. We can’t have them snooping about the place so soon after Thirteen’s death …” more static. What the hell? I can hear you know! “… make sure they eat their food, and they’ll be sleeping in our laps like kittens,” the man finishes.
“Drugged kittens,” the woman corrects with a chuckle. “They’ll be our pets, and we can …” the voices fade away. I assume the two speakers merely walked away.
But what I’ve just found out, what I’ve just heard, must be relayed to the others! I have to tell them not to eat their food!
Before I can move, though, a hand grabs my wrists.
“Don’t eat that, sweaty,” a woman’s kind voice says beside me.
I shake my head and find myself holding a stapler to my mouth. I blink in astonishment and drop it, yanking my hand from the woman’s grip. Guess I’d actually schized out that time. Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen. And Slacker Boy is gone, too. Damn, I was gonna give him a hard time for not doing his work.
I stand up and slink away from the office. My eyes find a camera moving in the corner. Suddenly, it droops down, the shutter going over the huge, black eye that shows the televisions what it sees. Funny, they’re not supposed to do that.
Doing a double take, I sprint back the way I’d come and reach Catkin’s room just as she walks out. I crash into her and we jump back with small yelps. She jumps into a defensive stance, but I hold my hands up, showing I mean no harm. She registers my shocked expression and waits for me to speak.
“The … camera’s … eyes have … shut,” I puff out.
“What?” She snaps, confused.
English, Aisha, the female voice chides with … was that a giggle?
“Sorry,” I say, taking in a deep breath of air. “The cameras are turned off.”
Catkin rolls her eyes. “I know,” she says irritably. “I turned them off.”
I make an ‘O’ shape with my lips and turn to leave, then suddenly remember why I came running to her.
“Wait … I overheard two people talking before …” Catkin raises an eyebrow. “about the drug. They’re going to put it in our food, so don’t eat what they give you.”
Catkin looks grim. “I know what it does,” she finally says. “It’s supposed to make us like lap-dogs. Makes us submissive and stuff like that.”
I nod my head. “I know. Go tell Lori, I’m gonna do some more snooping to see what I find,” I tell her.
Catkin nods and walks away. I spin around and walk casually toward the morgue, not acting suspicious at all.
“Hello Eight,” a smooth, male voice says behind me. “What are you up to?”
i spin around to see Kofi giving me a stern, but suspicious glare. The smile that spreads across my lips is cold and hard. I prepare myself for an out-right lie.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food?
Of course I am.
Why?
Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.





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Tue Dec 17, 2013 1:12 am
Swiftfurthewarrior says...



Catkin Number 15


I stand up and am about to go find Tom to tell him to warn the others when I crash into Aisha.
I crouch down and curl my hands into fists but she holds her hands up and pants, "The...camera's...eyes have...shut."
"What?" I snap irritably.
"Sorry." She takes a breath. "The cameras are turned off."
I roll my eyes. "I just turned them off."
Her mouth opens in surprise and she turns away, then spins back around. "I overheard two people talking before...about the drug. They're going to put it in our food, so don't eat anything they give you."
"I know what it does. It's supposed to make us like lap-dogs. Makes us submissive."
I barely heard what she said because just then I heard footsteps. "...I'm going to do some snooping to see what I find."
She starts to walk back to the morgue when, "Hello Eight. What are you up to?"
Kofi. There was something about him I didn't trust.
I strolled up behind Aisha and address him. "I was just about to go get myself some coffee and review my research on a project I'm working on when I bumped into her. She wanted to help with my topic and decided to tag along." Luckily, I had brought a tablet with some fake research on it. If I ran Into Kofi, he would have wanted to know what it was about.
I handed it to him, and he scans it briefly, then hands it back. "Carry on then. Don't let me interrupt you."
I whisk past him and walk with Aisha to the lounge. She lets out a breath and mutter quietly, "You're a good liar, but you could have aroused his suspicion."
I shrug. "I try my best, but it never gets easier. By the way, I was going to test out a theory of mine." I tap the tablet a few times and gave it to her.
She read it carefully. "It might work, but are you sure you want to take the risk? Maybe I should do it."
I shake my head. "No, you don't have an excuse for not showing up, I do. Kofi confined me and Lori to the building."
Aisha sighs. "We'd better start right away, then. I'll inform Lori. Try to find out anything you can with out stirring up trouble."
I smile dangerously. "Don't worry, I'm more careful after the computer incident. This is going to be amusing."
Hi
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Sat Dec 28, 2013 3:43 pm
Craz says...



Lori | Number Nine

Lori walked through the main wing of the headquarters, glancing around at the unusually flurried disarray of papers, hurrying men in loosened ties, and the wrinkles of stress stretching the Agents' skin. Her subconscious was weary of this sudden sense of urgentness in the Agents, but her conscious thought it had more sudden needs that needed to be taken care of promptly.

And those needs were Catkin. She'd disposed of the note the other Number had given her, for obvious reasons, and she discretely headed towards the other's room. Somewhere in the chaos, a scrawny little man had handed her a cup of coffee, which she inhaled. Her heart tugged at her body to take a sip, but with some force she denied and continued to walk.

When she peeked her head into Catkin's room, she was nowhere to be seen. Lori glanced down the hallway, where the other cell-like rooms they were assigned waited, but it was void of her as well. Lori turned back into the disorder of the main wing, but she was missing there, too.

The coffee lured her again. Normally she didn't really care for coffee, and drank tea when she was feeling frustrated. But there was something decidedly seductive about it; she couldn't tell if it was cinnamon, or vanilla, or some other sweet ingredient. It was enough for her to give up on her search for the other Predator, sit in a vacant desk chair, and put her lips to the rim.

"Lori!" She jolted forward as a hand slapped her in the back of the head, splattering the deliciousness down her front and sprinkling on the computer in front of her. She gasped and held the cup steadily away from her, her other hand going to her burning lip, and surveyed the mess of her white blouse, the nicest and most inefficient thing she owned. She swiveled around and stood, her eyes and throat burning with indignation.

Catkin and Aisha held their hands up, but their jaws was already flapping. "Sorry, Lori, but you can't drink or eat anything they give you."

Lori eyed them, still irritable about her wasted coffee and shirt. "Why?" She snapped.

Catkin grabbed her arm, and the three of them leaned into a small circle. "They put that- that Authoritative thing in us orally. Through food."

Nine glanced down at her shirt, then her coffee. She disgustedly pushed the coffee onto the desk, and spat on the ground, wiping her mouth. She nodded to them and said, "Alright, thank you for that. Have you told the others?"

"Not yet. We were just about to spread the word."

"Good, good. I'll help." Lori said.

The others nodded and they split up, in search of the other Predators stuck underground with them. The atmosphere was stressed, overworked, and this time Lori glanced at the faces that passed her in a hurry. They paid her no mind. She turned a corner back into the dorms, her mind still focused on the main wing, and ran smack into a face of papers.

The papers shot up and danced to the ground, and with a curse Tom squatted to pick them up. Lori glanced around and sat on her knees, slowly semi-helping him. He glanced up and then resumed shuffling the papers.

As they were both standing, Lori whispered, "You can't eat or drink anything."

Tom glanced at her through his glasses. "What are you talking about? And what happened to you?"

A sudden quiet made them turn their heads towards the main wing, where every employee stood, stick straight, towards the elevator, where they dinged and slid open. Three men entered, two of them tall, fierce men with sleek black sunglasses, and the one in the middle only slightly shorter. Only their heads were visible, and the man in the middle had thick gray hair combed back in a reserved style, a forehead wrinkled with attractive aging, and crinkled oily black eyes that feigned kindness that missed nothing. She could tell he was smiling that sick smile from the upturn of his healthy cheeks, and that he was walking that silently demanding and quietly important swagger from the slight bob of his head.

"Is that..?" Lori heard Tom whisper.

Yes, she thought. The Boss, the Head, the man who personally engineered every Predator, had come for a visit.
"we'll fasten it with some safety pins and tape and a dream, and you're good to go, honey."





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Tue Dec 31, 2013 6:53 pm
Basil says...



Aisha 8

Turn down this corridor, the male voice commands. And then … no, the other one!
“Well, next time be more specific,” I mutter under my breath.
When I say this corridor, Aisha, it generally means the one corridor! The male voice snarls.
I double back and turn down the other corridor. As I walk, something begins buzzing in my mind. Something tries to bring on fear, but I quash the feeling instantly. I feel relief flood through me, and my ears prick at the sound of footsteps. I turn another corner and see Lori and Tom staring at a man striding toward them.
Oh deary me! The female voice manages. It’s him. It’s the one that created you!
All I can do is stare in shock and horror as the man’s gaze hones in on the three predators in the room. I gulp and try to back away, but it’s as if his dark eyes have created a wall behind me, compelling me to move forward.
The man stops in front of Lori and Tom, and I stand just behind them. He holds his arms out as if to embrace us all, smiling wide. But I can see past that fake smile.
“My lovely children,” he drawls, venom dripping from his words thickly. “My, how you’ve grown.”
I want to yell and scream and hurl insults, but I can’t. My tongue has frozen in my mouth. My eyes have widened to the size of frying pans, my pupils dilating to take over the silver and green of each mismatched eye.
“Yes,” Lori finally says. “It is … a pleasure.”
“Bah, the pleasure is all mine!” The man’s sickly sweet, fake smile, turns to Tom. “And how are you, lad?”
Tom nods. “Well. You?” He seems a little too polite. No doubt I’ll be the same.
“I am well, thank you,” he nods, and then looks at me. His features change. From the fake merriment I saw moments ago, I now see scorn and disappointment. “And you, Number Eight. Do you still have schizophrenia?”
a growl rumbles deep within my throat. “No,” I lie.
You can’t lie to me, Eight, I created you, a slick, evil voice says in my mind. It is mechanical and hurts my head.
“Yes,” I squeak. “Yes I do.”
The man seems satisfied with my reaction. He nods and pushes past us, giving us all looks of such contempt that I wonder if this man can have any genuine feelings at all other than smugness.
“We have to tell the others,” Lori whispers as the man walks away with his two chaperones.
“Yeah, and quickly,” Tom agrees.
“Yes,” I squeak again, my voice barely audible.
“Tom, maybe take Aisha somewhere … I’ll pass the word around,” Lori says, and walks away.
A hand at my back pushes me into a slow walk. Then we speed up a little to a faster pace. I don’t recognise any of the corridors we pass. I only see the scorn in those black eyes.
“What’s wrong with her?” A voice asks.
It’s the human girl.
“She’s … slightly out of it,” Tom pauses, probably wincing, for a choice of words. “She … has a mental illness.”
“Oh that’s terrible,” the girl says. “Would you like me to help?”
I can feel a hand moving toward my body, and I turn my unseeing eyes onto the girl, my teeth bared in a silent snarl. Her hand is mere inches from my shoulder.
“Touch me, human, and I’ll bite your hand off,” I snarl.
“Aisha, watch it,” Tom warns.
The hand withdraws. “She’s ... not usually like this?” The girl asks.
“No she’s … had a bit of a fright,” Tom sounds amused at saying that.
Some of my senses return. “I am not afraid of him,” I growl.
“Afraid of who?” The girl asks, giving me a curious look.
I grimace and turn my gaze to her reluctantly. She’s not bad looking, though. I still don’t like her. “No one that concerns you.”
“Aisha!” Tom yells.
I squeak and duck. When I recover, Tom is glaring daggers at me. I try to smile and we continue to walk. That’s when we bump into Amaria. She looks distressed and flustered, but gives us all a once over before stopping anyway.
“What on Earth are you lot doing? Don’t you know who’s here?” She hisses.
“Yes,” I squeak again, and Amaria gives me a stunned look.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food?
Of course I am.
Why?
Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.








i love me some swole chickens
— yosh