Entry tags:
(no subject)
TIME AND LOCATION: pre-Fallout 3, Washington D.C.
WHAT: A) Enclave mad science. B) Babby's first wasteland mission.
WARNINGS: Enclave being Enclave (human experiments, violence, etc)
Research & Development
Subject 51-0572
Experiment H-03
Nathan glanced at the clipboard and the array of tests scheduled for today. After a week of pumping the subject full of chems, time to see if it improved the subject's ability to sustain injuries. Time for Nathan to see if the chems improved the subject's ability to sustain injuries. Occasionally he felt flashes of resentment. The Principal Investigator on the project gets all the glory while the technician does all the work. But any resentment he felt passed quickly once he started running tests.
"Wakey wakey, mutie." He rattled the clipboard along the cage. "Shake off the tranq. We have work to do."
***
Capital Wasteland Slavers
The wasteland was worse than Lieutenant Lone could have possibly imagined. Every day he found himself more and more appalled by the conditions he saw around him, and more and more convinced that Colonel Autumn was right. The wasteland needed the Enclave. The chaos and suffering would never end until someone brought order by any means necessary. Today, they had a business arrangement to negotiate with the slavers at Paradise Falls, but he looked forward to a day when they could come back here and shred the place.
"Where did they get those slave collars? That tech looks well beyond anything wastelanders could come up with."
WHAT: A) Enclave mad science. B) Babby's first wasteland mission.
WARNINGS: Enclave being Enclave (human experiments, violence, etc)
Research & Development
Subject 51-0572
Experiment H-03
Nathan glanced at the clipboard and the array of tests scheduled for today. After a week of pumping the subject full of chems, time to see if it improved the subject's ability to sustain injuries. Time for Nathan to see if the chems improved the subject's ability to sustain injuries. Occasionally he felt flashes of resentment. The Principal Investigator on the project gets all the glory while the technician does all the work. But any resentment he felt passed quickly once he started running tests.
"Wakey wakey, mutie." He rattled the clipboard along the cage. "Shake off the tranq. We have work to do."
***
Capital Wasteland Slavers
The wasteland was worse than Lieutenant Lone could have possibly imagined. Every day he found himself more and more appalled by the conditions he saw around him, and more and more convinced that Colonel Autumn was right. The wasteland needed the Enclave. The chaos and suffering would never end until someone brought order by any means necessary. Today, they had a business arrangement to negotiate with the slavers at Paradise Falls, but he looked forward to a day when they could come back here and shred the place.
"Where did they get those slave collars? That tech looks well beyond anything wastelanders could come up with."
Research & Development
"M'awake," he slurred, painfully peeling himself off the metal floor into a hunched sitting position. It felt like he'd been trampled by Brahmin. He squinted up at Dr. Lone--God that face looked punchable--and scowled. "Fuck you want from me now?"
no subject
He gestured to the orderlies to take Subject 51 out of his cell and bring him to the white and sterile medical chamber, with its white and sterile (for now) operating table.
no subject
So far, as painful and degrading as the experiments were, they’d been limited to questionable injections and the occasional blood draw. This was something different. He silently begged his useless limbs to struggle, but he was tied down before he could even manage a twitch. The orderlies retreated, leaving him alone with the doctor.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked, trying—and failing—to keep a tremor out of his voice. “If you’re gonna kill me, there’s gotta be a better way than...this. Just-just shoot me or something.”
no subject
Nathan rolled the instrument table closer and laid out the surgical tools in tidy, even rows. Once the gear was set up to his satisfaction, he checked the clip board one last time and activated the room's camera.
"Subject 51-0572, Experiment H-03, May 29th 2272. Subject is confused but alert."
no subject
"My name is Mitch Sawyer," he announced, as he always did whenever they turned that fucking camera on him. Hopefully they wouldn't notice how much his voice trembled this time. "I'm not your fuckin' subject. I'm a human being. And if this shit keeps up, you're gonna wish you shot me instead." An empty threat, but sometimes empty threats were all he had.
no subject
"All you are to me is mutated DNA."
no subject
"Fine," he relented through gritted teeth. "Just get it over with, dickhole."
no subject
So he instead wipes down each of the surgical tools with alcohol, checks the stimpaks that are prepared to prevent the subject from dying prematurely, wanders to the corner to make sure the camera is working properly.
no subject
Cautiously opening one eye, Mitch watched the doctor stroll casually across the room, taking his sweet fucking time checking on things. Taunting him. He felt a surge of anger rising up, but pressed it back down. Maybe he could use this.
Checking to make sure Lone’s back was turned, he began to twist his arm in the cuff, reaching as far as he could towards the tray of tools.
no subject
"Shit!" he hissed and scurried across the room to try to get the surgical tools away from the subject before subject could grab one.
no subject
no subject
The flash of fear turned to a self-assured smirk.
"If you don't drop it, I'll just break your fingers until you can't hold it any more."
Bone mending wasn't scheduled to be tested until Thursday, but he could always adjust the schedule.