Deus Ex (Redux)

At the ragged edge of Skyrael, far from the the smoke of the cities, the whistle of the railways and the whine of propellers lies the Castle, that towering, mechanical orchid, that fallen ruin of the Echo Clock. Enter its twisted maze of giant gears, discover its strange family of inhabitants and unravel its marvels, its mysteries and its horrors.

Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:27 pm

I refuse to let this moulder in the archives.

"The Project has been fully active since 1938, though the concept was first brought forward in 1917. It was only considered and mandated due to Hitler's great zeal for the occult and his quest to find a way to harness it as a weapon against the world at large..."

Orientation. Col. Mark Hamisford had been to thousands such in the 32 years he had served in the USAF. However, this one was just slightly different. Requiring a security clearance that did not actually exist, for one, was a strange qualification. How high above Top Secret could one get?

Pretty damn high, actually. High enough that in all the missions and orders that he had ever been involved in, even the accursed 'Project Blue Book', that silly exercise involving the search for and documentation of UFOs and little green men paled in comparison to this...this?

"We were first approached by the Archbishop Michael Logue. He had been coming to the end of his term when he had first contacted us in the name of the Vatican. Of course, there is no real way to know whether or not the Vatican in it's entirety had had a clue as to Logue's designs, since every level that even our highest ranking officers had ever been able to reach has denied having anything thing to do with the project..."

"Just a moment." interrupted Hamisford. "If they have claimed no involvement, how is it that we function?" He was referring to not only the astronomical funding the Project operated with, but, as well.

Dr. Yates smiled slightly, but there was no mirth in his beady little eyes, looking all the world for dolls eyes under his thick spectacles. "Believe it or not, Sir, but the funding comes channeled through no less than 46 separate organizations, none of which are traceable to Rome herself."

Such a thing! The Vatican, shuffling money through dummy organizations? Front houses?

"I should not have to remind you, Colonel," Yates continued, seaming to guess at the Hamisford's thoughts. "But the catacombs beneath the Vatican are sealed away from prying eyes for a reason. Her wealth; in land, businesses, and all religious works of art number in the tens of trillions. The Vatican, and of course, the Catholic Church entire is the wealthiest singular entity on the planet. And that's only what our eyes and ears in Rome have uncovered over the years..." Yates trailed away, leaving the rest unsaid. "As to the staff of priests and ministers that arrive every two years or so, they all have documentation that prove that they have never had any affiliation with the Church."

"Then what.."

Yates cut him off. "Oh, believe me Colonel. They are indeed men of the cloth. But even our government trains soldiers that never seem to exist."

Hamisford murmured something under his breath and made an impatient gesture to continue.

"Now, where was I?" Yates murmured while shuffling about in his briefcase. "Ah." he pulled a thick folder from the case and slid it along the table to the General. "A little bedtime reading, Colonel, at your convenience, of course."

Convenience. That was a laugh.

Hamisford pulled the file toward him, letting his eyes slide over the emboldened red letters stamped across the front;

Project Vatican

He glanced up at Yates, the question unsaid in his eyes. From Yates, again that smile that did not touch his eyes.

"Yes, something of a jest back in the day, Colonel, though I cannot say it is not without its weight."

Of course not. A US military project so secret as to be all but a phantom to even it's own highest levels? Funded, supposedly, by the Catholic church? Hamisford could see where the humor might have been back then. Though reading it now merely sent something not unlike a shiver up his spine.

He remembered...

"Colonel, you have always been a veritable inspiration in the way you conduct yourself here."

That was Lt. Gen. Wasif, speaking to him over the grand mahogany desk with its tiny replicas of various aircraft that had served in the USAF. Wasif, with the haircut you could set your watch to and a zeal for the Forces like you wouldn't believe...though there had been some that had speculated that the zeal was the thing keeping him from getting that fourth star on his eplets...

"Thank you, sir. It is ever an honor and pleasure to serve my country." replied Hamisford.

"Isn't it though!" the Lt. Gen. near shouted. "But the honor of serving aside, Colonel, I've called you in here for a new position."

Ah! Was this finally it? The day he would get his star, his promotion to Brigadier General? Was all his hard work panning out?

Nope. He had received no promotion. Just this...this...

Yates' voice broke into his thoughts. " worries insofar as safety. We here at the Project have taken great strides to ensure the security of all our personnel."

Maybe their personnel yes. But what of the world? What would become of the world should even the barest hint of all this leak into it? Hamisford himself could still barely wrap his mind around such a thing, and he had spent seven years, seven years actually looking for little green men for his country.

Even after that; even after the General of the Airforce himself had sat Hamisford down and told him what was what during their brief meeting last month... was he to believe that not only did vampires exist, but that his own government and the Vatican in Rome had joined forces to capture, study and ultimately harness them?

He had read the reports. Document sightings and contact with them dating back as far as the early 1300's. He had skimmed over historic references from nearly every society on the planet indicating that vampires were real. Real and walking among us! From Lamia, to the Homonus Nocternum. From Strigoi to Upir, and hell, that one the Russians had used since 1047AD! But that was not the end, no, the tales and legends go back to where the written word began, and beyond.

They are real.

So. What does the Vatican figure? Hunt them down. Capture them. Use them to find the Answer. The Answer to God himself.

And why wouldn't they want that? Creatures in man's own image, powerful and seemingly immortal! How much closer to Godhood does one get?

They'd tried it their way first, of course. Centuries of questioning, torture, magicks and exorcism. They'd done all they could do from a...spiritual standpoint. So they turn to the government. And not just any government. The one that is progressing fastest when it comes to technology, but does not abandon the faith. America.

It was passed from desk to desk, in secret rooms that never saw the light of day. Tossed, discarded into one of thousands of files in some storage facility somewhere. Until the Germans began digging into the 'black arts'. Then someone found the damn proposal and blew the dust off of it.

And from there; who knows? Who knows what eyes saw it, and what eyes did not? Who knows as to how far up...or down...this went? Did it matter?

No. Hamisford was in the USAF, sworn to do his duty to his country so help him God. Ironic, that. He would do his duty to so help God.

Since it had been initiated, Project Vatican had progressed in fits and starts, going from a simple bunker with two frightened scientists and a priest, to this vast, underground complex with a staff of nearly three hundred. Three hundred, made up of men of God, men of science, and men with guns.

What a mix.

They captured the specimens at first using nets with silver weights, holy water and rifles, progressing to high-tech taser guns and UV flash-bangs. The holding cells had gone from simple iron cages to lexan cubes.

Powdered silver was continually pumped into the cells, keeping them weak and ill. The cycle had to be continuous, for the creatures recovered quite fast. For the more aggressive of specimens they used lethal (for humans) doses of radiation and electro-shock.

All this, to find God.

Hamisford had been given a synopsis of the creatures while en route to this facility, which he now reviewed in his mind's eye as Yates continued to sing the praises of the Project.

They began as any parasite does, by infection. A bite, or a mixture of bodily fluids could pull it off, but only when the infecting creature was of sufficient age, something like our puberty. Then the poor soul would begin the transformation process. Over the next three days, they would become highly allergic to light, sunlight over all. Silver would begin to have a significant reaction on their health, ranging from simple nausea in low doses, to a coma-like state. And, of course, the uncontrollable urge to drink blood.

While reading the dossier, Hamisford had felt a strange giddiness over the idea that Hollywood had been on the money on a creature that was not supposed to be real. But that ended there along with the similarities.

Religious icons had no effect on them, nor did garlic, running water or a slew of other things that he had read about the Project trying out. The religion thing excited the Vatican immensely. Surely, if the legend of the vampire fleeing the cross and whatnot was not true, then such a creature could only be something God himself had set upon the earth!

And they might be, mused Hamisford.

"Tell me, doctor. What strides are we currently taking in our...*ahem*...little quest down here? What is it we are doing?" the Colonel asked.

Yates seemed to hesitate. "Well, Colonel. We have run into something we did not foresee, which has us looking more closely at our mandate and procedures..."

"Can the jargon, Yates. Tell me what exactly we are doing here. I've read the reports. We are, what? Capturing these things and ripping them apart to see what makes them tick?"

Yates looked a little pale. "That is how the Project originally conducted itself, Colonel, yes. But as I said, a new situation is presenting itself.."

"So spit it out, man!" Hamisford had little time for hemming and hawing, being a military man.

"I cannot claim to know much about this new aspect of the study, Colonel, but I can get you the man in charge of it."

Hamisford nodded, and Yates pushed a intercom button on the desk. "Dr. Williams? Can you come in, please?"

*Sure thing, Paul*

After a moment a tall man in a lab coat entered the room. Hamisford noted nothing of his appearance, as was his wont with these civvy doctors.

"Steve, thanks for coming. Colonel, this is Doctor Steven Williams, head of...well..." Yates looked blankly at Williams.

"Let's call it 'Head of Special Intelligence', huh Paul?" said Williams with a grin. "You'll have to excuse the spontaneity of it, Colonel, Sir, but we previously had no department for what's been going on recently."

Hamisford waved an impatient hand. "Fine, fine. Listen here, Williams. I've been assigned to oversee this freak show you boys have down here, and I thus far don’t have enough intel to do my duty to the best of my ability. So, if you don’t terribly mind, I would like to be briefed on exactly what we are doing here."

Williams seemed excited, as was the grin on his thin face. "Well, Colonel, you know the mandate, correct?"

Hamisford shook his head. "I never took Latin, doctor, so," he squinted down at the folder previously given to him by Yates. Below the heading 'Project Vatican', someone had added another stamp, one that looked much newer than the title. "I can't really tell you what 'Deus Ex Marchina'"

"Machina" Williams broke in.

The Colonel shot a hard glance at the tall doctor. "...Machina, means." finished Hamisford.

"Literally translated, Colonel, it means 'God out of the machine', which we adopted about, what Paul? Twenty or so years ago?" Yates gave a vague shrug. "Anyway, it's the mandate. Using technology to find God. We apply the newest and greatest of man's achievements to the vamps"

Yates winced at the shortened term.

"in order to fulfill the church's goal of finding God through them."

Hamisford nodded.

"Now," continued Williams as he took a chair opposite the Colonel. "The Project originally tried that with some really archaic methodology. They bagged the vamps, strapped them to a table, and generally ripped them apart to see if they could die, and try to figure out what makes them tick."

Hamisford was getting impatient. He knew all this.

"But," Williams went on, "As we got smarter, got things like x-rays and non-invasive surgery, the two to seven specimens we pick up every year have been surviving the process longer. And there we find a bump in the road."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Colonel, what do you know about the creatures? Aside from what kills them?"

Hamisford thought. "They require large quantities of blood, they’re faster and stronger than we are."

"Go on." urged Williams, a light burning in his eyes.


"Yeah." said Williams as he leant forward in his seat, crossing his arms on the table between them. "That's pretty much all anyone knew, because we always killed them within the year!

"Now," he continued. "You've no doubt read the earliest reports. Vampires are...what? Little more than sharks, right? Mindless killing machines in human form. Little to no conscious though, apart from 'blood yummy, sun bad' kind of thinking, right?"

Hamisford nodded.

"Wrong!" Williams shouted. "Wrong, wrong, wrong!" his glee was free in his expression now, as he nearly vibrated in his chair. "We didn't understand, you see? Just because a human gets turned when he or she is a certain age, the vampire in them is just a baby! It's like puberty! That's why vampire are so scarce! They have to age, to reach an age where their anatomy will allow reproduction, that's why the bites seem to rarely cause infection. The vamps we have are always killed before they mature!"

Yates was pale again, and chewing on a thumb nail. Apparently, whatever Williams was on about was not his favourite subject.

Hamisford waited, rather curious, in spite of himself.

"You see, Colonel? We only find so many a year, because we are only looking for them in their pre-pubescent stage. After some time, lets say about three years...they change."

"Change?" asked Hamisford.

"They become like us, Colonel. Thinking beings, with personalities, with routines, jobs...lives!"

Hamisford looked at Yates. "Is he saying what I think he is saying, Yates?"

Williams responded himself. "Colonel, some of the specimens we have in the containment cubes are just like you and me. Talking, thinking creatures. You can converse with them, It's like the last few years for them never happened. They remember everything about their lives, everything!"

Williams paused, seemed to gather himself.

"Colonel, we have twelve subjects down here. Three of which are no longer just snarling and trying to eat us. Three of them are asking to be fed, asking who won the world series, asking how their families are doing. That leads me to only one conclusion, Colonel."

The Colonel got there first. "Christ. They are all around us, aren’t they?"

Williams leaned closer. "Most likely Colonel. And probably always have been..."
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:28 pm


Vanessa's insides felt as though they were tumbling. She could scarcely blink without the urge to vomit, had she anything in her stomach to do so with.

She was lying on the floor of her cell, the small lexan cube with titanium reinforcing bars. God she was hungry.

How had this happened? It seemed a lifetime ago now, a thousand years since that guy she had brought home from Julie's Pub. He had been so sweet, so kind, and more importantly, he had not run at the mention of her ten-year-old son, Todd.

Of course, once he had bitten her, the sweetness had gone out the window. Then she had been getting sick, migraines pounded with the flick of the kitchen light. Vomiting when she handled the silverware. Then, darkness. Darkness laced with pain and hunger. No thoughts, no drive save for food. For blood.

Vanessa could not remember coming here, did not know the snarling faces in the cells next to hers, the doctors and army guys.

Didn't remember any of it. Just the pain and hunger. Until the day she had come back to herself...

..."Specimen 617, female, approximately 30 years old"...

Whose voice was that? Her eyes were closed. She could smell machines, hear them whirring and pumping. She heard the droning of florescent lights and the beating of the hearts around her. She could smell

"Where..." she croaked, but too quietly to be heard over the din of machines.

"She's prepped?" the same voice. Male.

"Yes, doctor." another voice, also male.


Crackling, light behind her eyelids. She shrieked as her body was electrified and computers counted the microseconds it took for her muscles to stop spasming.

"Oh God, oh God please don't, don' hurrrrts!" she wailed.

"Jesus! Did she..."

"Holy fuck! Someone call Dr. Williams! Tell him 617 is talking!"

She had been here in her cell ever since. She could hear the humming coming from the floor as radiation was pulsing into her cell, keeping her ill and weak. The tall guy, Williams had come by alot, asking stupid questions.

Was she hungry? Was she cold? Did she know who the president was? Could she tell him her name?

Well, yes she was hungry, she was starving! A packet of blood had been slid in through a drawer kind of thing in the front of the cell. Crawling toward the smell coming through the plastic had been so hard, she was so sick, but her body went on autopilot. She did not qualm at all at the idea of drinking blood, in fact, after she had sucked out what was to come, she had torn the bag apart, lapping at the droplets that had stubbornly stuck to the insides.

Cold? No. Not at all. This did strike her as strange, considering she had no clothing...but then she didn't really care all that much. She did not really feel embarrassed or shy, even being naked and under the scrutinizing eyes of anyone at all that walked by. Didn't seem important.

The president? That asshole?

Vanessa...her name was Vanessa. She wanted to go home, she wanted to know how long she had been here, and where Todd was.

But now, all there was was the nausea, and waiting for another packet of blood.

But under it all, under the waves of illness and the humming and bright lights, she was...delighting in herself. She had never before felt! If only she did not feel like sicking up every time she blinked, she felt she could fly! Everything was so real. The feeling of the floor against her skin, the movement of air. Even the hideously bright lights were so beautiful.

Footsteps in the corridor outside her cell.

The snarling man in the cell to her right leapt at the lexan wall, crashing into it, scrabbling at it with his nails. That man frightened her. He seemed like some kind of animal, caged and pacing. Every now and then, there would come a burst of bright light as the floor in his cell was electrified, and he would howl and settle down for a bit. But only until someone went walking down the hall, then it would all begin again.


The drawer! She moaned as the smell of blood filled the room, teasing all her senses, giving her goosebumps and shivers. It was like sex, like when the guy knows just where to touch and when...but better.

She forced her body to flip over onto her stomach, driving her hands and knees beneath her, forcing them to lock and move, crawling to the drawer, to food.

With shaking hands she snatched at the packet, loving the feeling of liquid sloshing about inside, the color of it thrilling her. She tore into it with her teeth, her new teeth that was seemingly made for it.


As the first drop hit her tongue, she could have wept, could have cried out in ecstasy, and the feeling of the wonderful fluid spilling down her throat was magic. Some dark magic that man had forgotten, the kind that came from deep in rain forests or in caverns that no one remembered. Power, strength poured into her...

And then there was no more, and she nearly wailed because of it. If only, if only there was just one more bag, she could be strong, could stand and find some way out of this place, this jail, this special hell designed to drive her mad.

She tossed the torn, empty bag back into her side of the drawer and seethed. She inwardly railed at the feeling of nausea seeping back into her, fought the notion of clawing at the floor, tearing it up to reach the vile machines beneath the kept her feeling so ill and weak.

But the feeling rose as the heat of the blood faded away in her stomach, as it always did. And as the sickness rose in her, her body again slowed down, began to slump to the floor. She put a hand against the lexan, peered out into the corridor beyond the see-through wall.

"Please..." she whispered. "Please let me out..."
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:28 pm

The following is a post made by neodracula.

So this was where the project ended...
In retrospect he ought to have seen it coming. Certain facts he had overlooked, certain truths he had preffered to consider as merely opinions.
Yeah, it had all been there, black and white, for him to read.
And now he was here....
Of course the feds had known about this, of course the feds had worked out how to supress or control it. Of course they had...
It had begun so simply, a rich man with time on his ahnds, digging around in mythology and urban legend, trying to see if there really was more to life than the day to day struggle he had lived these past forty years.
And then he had found one....
A vampire? Even now he found it hard to beleive that that was the case. Even with his stomach and mind screaming at him for blood. Even locked in this damn prison with these other snarling inhuman creatures he couldn't beleive it was entirely true..
At the time he had been worried he was wrong, tracking down one lunatic human after another with no real hope of fidning a genuine vampire, but with no other avenue to pursue at the time. Now he was not just afraid but actually terrified that he had been right.
In the end he had been found, not the other way around. A down and out, stinking and dishevelled, clearly an addict, looking so frail he might collapse at any moment, but still strong and agile enough to break into his house and overpower the private security men he had hired.
Then the man....vampire, think vampire damnit, denial is NOT useful.
Then the vampire had offered him a proposal.
Simplest thing in the world, proof that there was more to life, and an eternity to explore it, in exchange for one million dollars.
Slumped against the lexan wall Simon Detzel began wondered if he had made the wost mistake of his life that night.
At first it had appeared not to have worked, he and the strange stick creature had sat, waiting for something to happen, for some sign or signal that the one had acheived their ambition, and the other could begin to feed his addiction that was odd as well, Simon thought, how could you have ANOTHER addiction besides this incredible hunger? How could you possibly live with both?
Then the nausea had come, the fading in and out of consciousness, the sudden incredible thirst that had sent him from his home out into the night....
And then.....
Nothing coherent, weeks? months? years? If he was immortal now it could have been decades and he wouldn't have been able to to tell.
His body felt awful, yet, somehow, powerful, like a truck without fuel, capable of so much, if only it were allowed the requisite liquid to get it going.
He had to avoid thinking about that. Had to stay in control. If he was going to get out of this he needed to do something more than just hurl himself at the first person he saw and try to drain them dry.
For one thing, they would be expecting that.
They had caught him almost the same day he regained control of himself. Without animal instinct his actions had been too slow, to uncertain, his victim had escaped, must have called the police...the police had called whoever had captured him, and now here he was.
It hadn't even been much of a chase. His senses had been sharp enough that he knew he was being followed long before there was any threat, but every time he moved to evade them another pursuer had been waiting in that direction. They had closed on him, shot him with darts that sapped his strength, and brought him here.....
That had been two days ago.
The questions, those were the strangest part, the first question he had been asked was his name, once he responded to that the rest of the questions were nonsense, things about politics, popular culture, basic maths problems.
Nonsense. Mind fuckery. but what did they want from him?
Sure, he understood why they might want to kill vampires, even as one himself he knew they were dangerous, the creatures sharing his imprisonment terrified him, when they didn't merely disgust him. Mindless, almost not living at all. But still....
What did he know?
Who did he know?
The one who turned him? Maybe, if that was it he would tell them as much as he knew, maybe that would be enough. But somehow he doubted it.
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:29 pm

The following is a post made by comawhite.

She shook. Writhed and twisted on the floor. Driven to movement with the entirety of her pain. The madness echoed around her, reminding her of who and what she is. A monster.

At least now she had what she'd wanted. She was no longer the girl they all wished her to be.

She was Luisa.

Her true name had come to her on the day of her awakening. Whispered, like the softest of breezes through her skull. Gentle, whilst all around her was screaming pain. She had latched onto it, the only truth in a world of confused hate. And the hunger. The ever-present, all-consuming hunger.

She lay still. The pulses of irradiative hell ran through her, sickening her and sending her writhing to the floor again. There she lay, exhausted. Immobile.

Was it worth it?

The day of her turning had dawn as any other, the rays of the sun catching the smooth glass of the windshield as Matt had driven her to school. They had stood in the sun before going to class. Enjoying the heat of the sun as if it were their last.

School. Pretty. Perfect. Miss All-American.

Perfect perfect perfect.

She fucking hated being their version of perfect.

That night, once her parents were in bed, she had painted her lips violent red. Blackened her eyes with kohl. Hands shaking as she got in her car. Scared. Determined. She would show them who she really was. Not innocent. Not fake.

The Red Light district. Whores displaying their wares. Fascinating, baroquely tragic. The derelict bar/hotel she ended up smelt of alcohol and sex. She had paid for her drinks under the leering eyes of the bartender, buzzing on the thick air and the whiskey.

The man was just what she'd been looking for. Dark, with piercing eyes that spoke of his want for her. In the filthy alley behind the bar, she had had hurried sex with him. The bite mark on her neck bringing her to screaming ecstasy, her crimson frailty roughly leached from her.

Under the watchful eyes of many, she fitfully slept, a roaring ache behind her eyes. This pain was why she only responded to the doctors in monosyllables. And why the only time she felt whole was the moment when the blood was torn from the packet, and slid down her throat like liquid heaven.
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:30 pm


Same old, same old. The mop goes into the bucket, the mop hits the floor, splat, and back and forth we go.

Cardinal Matthew Cain watched the man in the grey coveralls move past the door to the tiny office Matthew shared with his counterpart, a Dr. Thomas...Tomas? No...Thomason. Right. Thomason. Snooty kind of fellow, with little penchant for a first name basis. But, away on holiday till the end of the month, praise God.


He could no longer see the janitor, but the steady, relentless sound of mopping echoed in the white, narrow hallway beyond the office door.

'How,' he mused. 'do they manage to keep the Project such a secret? With a staff in the hundreds, including cleaning staff? How much do you pay a janitor that mops the floors just outside the cells? How much to keep an ordinary Joe quiet?

Bah. In this Western world, everything boils down to dollars and cents. Everyone had a price.


On that thought, he fingered the flash drive in his pocket. He had booted it up this morning, read it through three times, then deleted it. He knew the drill, had waited for months to receive word to proceed.

He leaned back in his chair, moving to lace his fingers behind his head. 'Just how,' he mused silently. 'am I going to pull something like that off?'

As he rocked, the token rosewood rosary that was ever hanging from his right breast pocket swung, the fluorescent lighting flashing off the silver crucifix; going dark, then light as it pendulemed to and fro...
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:30 pm

In a back room, filled with the choking heat and droning hum of computer servers, fingers were striking keys.

The green-on-black of the screen contained long lines of alpha-numeric coding, and the tap-taping of the keys added to the marching lines, until;


An eager index finger, clad in latex punched 'Y'. The screen blanked quickly, the rows of coding seeming to tumble to the bottom and disappear off the screen. More machine-gun tapping erased the day's logs, then brought up the mainframe observation screen, as it had been before the person had logged on.

A latex hand formed a gun, index pointing at the screen. The thumb moved forward;

"Pow." came the soft voice. The dark-clad shape turned away from the computer and walked out of the room, leaving it in darkness, with naught but the hum of computers, and the brief jingling of keys outside before the lock went *snick*.

Footsteps moved away, and a mind thought with mirth; that if this was like in the movies, there would be a countdown going on somewhere...
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:31 pm

The following is a post by comawhite.

Luisa paced her cell. She had found the only way to keep the pain at bay was to watch. Observe the world around her, as it continued in normality. Or at least, this place's version of normality.

She watched the throat of the doctor as he stood outside. Writing on his clipboard, the steady scratching of his pen on the paper punctured by his glances up at her. His eyes followed her in intrusive coldness as she paced back and forth across the cool plastic floor. A tiny pulse beating in her neck kept her gaze locked to it. A heady mix of longing and anger filled her.

Williams, the tall doctor with the imposing air. What was he writing? What did he think was so fascinating about her walking?

What did he fucking want from her?

Her anger stopped her in her tracks.

Shaking with suppressed rage, she flattened one hand against the smooth reinforced plastic separating them. Her other hand curled itself into a fist. Acting with part reckless vampirism, and part reckless teenage hood, she threw her fist against the wall.

The act sent her spiralling down, as a particularly strong wave of radiation coursed into her cell. She watched from a heaving pile on the ground, as the doctor smiled, and walked away.

The anger that had clouded her brain evaporated, leaving her shaking on the floor.
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:32 pm


That was the door to Yates' office, crashing into its frame as Hamisford stalked out in a whirlwind of curses.

"Well." said Williams, a mirthless smile on his thin face. "That went famously."

Yates sat himself slowly into the large leather chair so recently vacated by the Colonel that it was still slowly rotating. "Jesus." he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

The Colonel had taken' suggestions badly. Williams wanted to stop the experimentation, or rather change it from the old hack and slash to psychoanalysis and whatnot. The Colonel had not seen the point of it...

"Are you fucking kidding me, Williams? I've read the files on these things! They are responsible for dozens of murders here, both military and civilian casualties. Priests, for Christ's sake!"

Williams fluttered his hands in a gesture to placate the irate serviceman. "Colonel, you have to understand that in a fashion, the deaths of those poor souls are not actually the fault of the vamps! In what we now call their 'infant' stage they are no more to blame for their actions than, say, a mountain lion protecting itself..."

"You can stow your bullshit, Williams! Neither I, nor the government of these United States will take a fluffy, cuddly stance on these creatures. They are monsters, plain and simple."

"Monsters?" It was Williams turn to sound irate. "How can you say that? After the three year maturation time, they are like you and I! Frightened, thinking beings that just want to know what has happened to them..."

"Which, Doctor," the Colonel's tone dripped with acid at the word. "Only makes them a more efficient killer. Acting like their prey to draw them in."

That stopped Williams in his tracks. The prospect of communication had blinded him to such thinking. Surely, a vampire that could mimic normal human behavior would be a much more deadly predator. He looked back at Yates for help, for something to throw back at the Colonel, but Yates was merely looking green. The idea was obviously just occurring to him as well.

Hamisford leaned back in his seat, an angry, smug smile at his lips. "Yes, gentlemen. Killers. No more. Our job here is to find out why they are such good killers, and something tells me that just asking them is not going to cut it. I want the usual testing back up and running in twenty-four hours, followed immediately, I want a detailed report on your progress so far."

The Colonel stood, gathering up the 'Project Vatican' folder. He strode to the door. He turned back to the speechless doctors. "And if normal operations are not reinstated in the alloted twenty-four hours, you are both gone."

Yates spoke up from within his cupped hands. "Yeah...famously."
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:33 pm

Cpl. Hank Tetch hated roster duty. Armed with nothing but a clip board he had to walk down the confinement corridor, writing down a general comment on how each vamp looked, you know, good, bad, whatever. When he had first heard about the duty, he had been confused about it. Why didn't they just use camera surveillance? Turns out vamps don't show up on film, just like in the movies...

Well, the snarling one with the little plaque on the cage that said '623' was getting a 'bad' for sure. While Hank stood in front of the lex-an and began to write the creature's number down, it was in there having a fit. Howling and screaming and clawing at the glass. Hank swallowed as he watched the thing tear off some fingernails in it's lust to get at him.

"Fuck" he said, but in spite of himself, stepped a little closer to the glass. "You are one nasty fucker..."

As Hank stepped closer, the creature redoubled his efforts, now launching his body like a missile at the lex-an barrier.

Hank smirked. This glass was like, a foot thick or something, with titanium reinforcing. Fucker wouldn't get through in a million years.

"Hey!" he shouted, slapping his hand on the glass. "Hey, you silly fuck! Why doncha just cut it out, huh?"

At his shout, the monster in the cage seemed to pause a moment, something almost like recognition flickered across the bloodshot eyes... and then he resumed his scrabbling at the wall.

The young corporal grinned. "What a bitch." he said, stepping back from the lex-an. He moved on to the next cell, leaving the dull thumping of the creature behind him.

This cell's plaque read '619' and someone had scrawled with a a black marker below the number 'Luisa'. Well, if there was a spot on the roster sheet for 'fucking hot', he would have checked it off for sure.

This one was a chick. Correction. A naked, fine looking chick. She was curled up in a ball in the center of the cell, shuddering every now and again. She was slim, with little heartache breasts and thighs that looked like smooth butter, dying to be spread.

Emboldened from the last cell, Hank grinned and stepped to the cell wall. "Hey baby, you looking for good time?" The girl turned dull eyes up to meet his, and her mouth moved in speech, but Hank couldn't hear her through the lex-an.

Having been underground for a few months, Hank imagined those perfect lips saying that she needed it bad, and that he was the kind of guy she was looking for.

He set down the clipboard at his feet, and pressed both palms to the glass. Christ she was hot. "Hey honey, why doncha bring that sweet ass a little closer?" Luisa didn't respond, just continued to stare mutely at him.

Licking his lips nervously, Hank looked in both directions of the corridor. Seeing no one, he hastily undid his belt and the fly on his pants. He pulled himself free, pressing his manhood against the cell wall.

"Like what you see. baby?" he murmured as he began to stroke himself. He was picturing the little minx crawling to him, begging for it.

His breathing and pace increased as his fantasy became more involved. "Yeah...yeah you dirty little whore. Uh...take it..." he panted. Luisa seemed to be staring through him without seeing him, but this did nothing to alleviate his lust.

"Oh little bitch...fuck yeah..."

There was a blur in the corner of his eyes, then the sound of liquid spattering the glass...but it was not the orgasm he was yearning for. He gurgled as his blood continued to fount against the glass from the gash that had cut him from ear to ear in a macabre smile, and sank to his knees as his world went dark.

Luisa had seen nothing but a streak of dark movement behind the young man, and the hint of a smile as the blur had torn his throat open. But she couldn't think straight, not with the gallon of crimson life running tackily down the glass...

(OOC-sorry for borrowing your char. Coma. Just needed to add a little spice.)
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:34 pm

The following is a post by comawhite


Here, all sense of time ceased. She didn't know when it was, where. She just knew one thing that she could rely on, the intricately perfect little heaven she experienced every time she was fed.

So she waited.

Luisa lay shivering on the floor. She wasn't cold. Cold was something she had forgotten. Like a thought formed in the blazing sunlight of the hottest day of the summer. You never quite appreciated cold until it was lost.

Her eyes passed over the flickering window at right angles to her head. Something moved into her line of sight, sideways. Her head ached so much she could barely process the figure. It was only when her began to speak that Luisa lifted her head.

"Just fucking do it. Come in here. Let me bite it off, you cunt." She mouthed the words dully through the glass, the fire in her throat failing to leak into her eyes. She was too weak to move, to care. Disgust flowed through her as he pressed himself against the window, his chest heaving. She stared through him, waiting for it to be over. She ran the tip of her tongue over her fangs, wishing she could drain the filthy blood out of the fucker.

Almost as if her fantasy had conjured it, a wash of red suddenly separated her from the rest of the world. In her state, she could barely register what had caused it. As if it had shot new life into her, Luisa was on her hands and knees, crawling. She scratched her nails against the glass, almost as though trying to reach it the liquid through it. She stared greedily as it flowed, out of her mind with the hunger that nearly constricted her throat.

At this moment, Luisa felt as though she could tear the plastic prison apart like newspaper.

(OOC - No problem at all, I love it)
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Re: Deus Ex (Redux)

Postby Now And Forever » Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:36 pm

(Some days earlier)

Michael Logue idly turned his glass between his palms against the warm rosewood of the grand old table. The meeting had been on for...say, 5 minutes, and he was already bored. Of course, the beginning of the meetings were always boring. The hard data, the facts. Project Vatican required a good deal of calculations, planning and madating.

"...therefore, we think the duty roster should be amended to include a new position, consisting of a party of two on a four-hour rotation..."

Ezekiel was the main man when it came to policies. He'd spent years learning his craft, learning what laws could be passed when it came to the Project, how many men could be working on what for how long. His was a thankless job, as every year the United States government came up with new labour laws and the like. His numbers had to be crunched on an almost constant basis.

"Thank you, Zeke." That was Victor, his clipped voice holding just the faintest hint of his native Italian, a hint he was quite disappointed he could never rid himself of, no matter how many years he had been speaking exclusively in english.

English was the easist to bring to the table. Sure, the prose and structure of it was atrocious when held against the varied languages of the Eastern world, but it was one that when learned, was usable damn near everywhere. Of course, the fact that the Project was based in America held some weight there too...

"Now, onto new business." Victor stood as he addressed the table. Thirteen were in attendence, the same number as there had always been. Perhaps it was fate, this number, but it had just happened that when the idea had been brought forth all those years ago, there had been thriteen.

Thirteen faces, all the color of new marble, glistening under the flouescent lighting. Thirteen living statues, carved of nearly-invincible alabastor. Thirteen pairs of eyes moving about impossibly in a head that had all the properties of stone but for it's ability to move.

Vampires. All of them.

Michael looked back in his mind, looking some seventy years ago, when he had held the title of Archbishop and had approached the Americans with the idea for the Project. Of course, he was no longer a man of the cloth. A immortal priest would no doubt raise a few eyebrows.

How far they had come.

They had first come together in the late sixteenth century. Immortal monsters of legend, all seeking the same answer. "Why."

Perhaps they had not been the first of their kind to ask, but they were the first to do anything about it. Seeking the Answer, they had gone to the most learned men that existed so many centuries ago; the Church. They had moved amongst them, becoming priests and care-takers of holy places, causually mentioning monsters, getting feedback from the holy men. Why did monsters exist? How had they come to be? And the like. Of course, though the priests of the sixteenth century were learned men, they had no more answers than a vampire himself would.

So. They had taken over. They had invaded the Vatican herself, gaining trust. Then they had slaughtered the upper echelon, assuming the identities of the most key players of the most powerful orgainization in the world; the Catholic Church. A power that could reach every country, every civilization. An unapproachable garrison in which no man would look for blood-drinkers. For who on the face of the earth would ever think that the only real evil in the world was at the reins of the holiest of holies?

It had been a struggle. Every so many years they would have to 'die', and wait a decade or so before returning so that no one be suspicious of the Cardinals and Bishops that never grew older, just grew more like living stone. It was much easier now. The thirteen of them were somewhat silent partners now, running everything from behind the scenes. Over the course of three hundred years or so, they had slowly replaced much of the Vaticans more permanent staff with vampires, until only the lowest on the totem poles were human. Only parish priests and the like were spared, for it would be hard to preach to a congregation that could not look away from the way the lights of the candles seemed to sparkle off their preternatural flesh.

As for the Project....well, it had started badly. Religion iteself had nothing to offer in the way of answers, so steps had been taken. Every so called 'exorcism' in the past five hundred years had been conducted to try to understand, to see if God (if there was such a thing) cared for vampires at all. To see if He would show himself to the children that were immortal and beautiful and stong, so much like He Himself must be. But He never gave sign that He loved the undead, or that He was there at all.

Inquisitions, crusades, witchhunts and the like were conducted. Monsters were found, but no God. But now science was rearing its head, shouting that it could shed light into all corners of God's green earth. It claimed to be able to rend the most sacred of secrets to dust. So they had teamed up on it. They used relgion to aim the weapon that was science at the Question.

Of course, it was quite distasteful. Horrid, really, to subject members of their kind to a fate of testing and tearing. Vampires did not die easily, and only when a truly terrifying amount of damage was done to an immortal would it finally stop screaming and trying to reach it's tomentors with tooth and claw.

So the experimenting was limited to fledglings. The new immortals that were no more than killing machines, no more a thinking, feeling being than the great white. In the first years, there was no mind behind a vampire, it was an autonomaton capable of nothing but causing a grisly death to any in it's path. Of course, another consideration that when a vampire matured into the glacial, gracful creature that was it's destiny, it's skin became ridiclously resilient to damage. Simple scalpels and the like would bend and break against the flesh of an Elder.

So, the limited testing went on, in small secret areas. Even the Thirteen could not get the resources neccessary to move everything up to a grander scale. In the early nineteen hundreds, the idea of a government-run project was put forth to Germany, Russia, China and America, the most powerful nations of the world. All had had tossed it aside with nary a second thought.

But then; a goldmine. Hitler. He had a zeal for the occult like no leader before him. But he wanted too much control, too much bang for his buck, so to speak. So Michael, or rather 'the Archbishop Michael Logue' went to America again with not only a proposal, but a way for the states to keep up with the Germans; Project Vatican.

And here we are.

"...problem." Victor was saying. Michael snapped back to the here and now.

Victor went on. "Three of the....subjects..." his voice was hard. He wanted the Answer as desperately as the rest of the them, but the experiments were entirely too brutal for his tastes, even for fledglings. "Have crossed into maturity."

There was a collective gasp and a general muttering. Michael closed his eyes and cleched a fist. The maturation of vampires had been kept a close-guarded secret. No one wanted the outside to know that there were fully mature vampires living amonsgst the populace, working at the reins of huge, multi-natural corporations and the like. The Thirteen had tried their damdest to ensure that humans believed that fledglings were the be-all, end-all of the vampire cycle, that there were easily identified and captured monsters.

This really was a problem. In time, the humans in the equation could perhaps think to look to the Vatican, to look for the monsters in human guise.

"How far along are they?" Jerimiah asked, his dead black eyes flashing with concern.

Victor sighed. "They have just come back to themselves, begun to speak and think for themselves again."

"So..." Jerry trailed off.

"No," assured Victor. "They have a long way to go to be fully grown yet." Of course, he meant the cold, flawlessly hard flesh, the absolutely phenominal speed and strength. A mature vampire could seem to disappear, moving much too fast for mortal eyes to follow, could tear buildings down to their foundations with their bare hands.

Michael spoke up. "Testing stops now." he said quietly. Damned if thinking, feeling brothers and sisters would be tortured to death, even for the Answer.

Victor simply stared at him.

Michael groaned. Of course. With the USAF running the show down there, they would most likely only be excited at the new turn of events, happy to have something new

"So we make ready." he said simply.

Twelve alabastor heads nodded. Steps would have to be taken, to get the young ones out of there.
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