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[img]http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext136250037968154_zps7irjncxu.png[/img][/center]

[h2][sub][sub]Location: Lost Haven, Maine- Little Ulster,  Center for Disease Control and Prevention  
Timeline: Present [/sub][/sub][/h2]

Racheli rose from the bed, her right hand left the edge when she steadied herself on her feet. Her soles soaked in the chill running from the ground. It sprouted through her leg as she unfurled and furled her toes a few times, working the sleep from them. Strangely Rach noted the cold sensation didn't cause we discomfort. In fact, it was the opposite. Absorbing the chill a few moments, Rach started to move toward the three recently entered medical staff, each dubbed a name from the three stooges, and eyes them carefully. 

Her attitude was well known to most the staff, their opinions and thoughts likely irritated with her, as she drew closer. She didn’t care honestly because they weren’t locked up twenty-four seven in a glass cage. She was and this made her restless enough to scratch her usually tolerance. 

The smallest one, Moe, held up a needle and was checking it for air bubbles. Every occasion to date the syringes had been empty…until now. The one he was holding seemed to have some type of murky liquid that made her instinct twist into knot inside her very fibers and impulsively her right foot stepped backwards an inch. 

 Without warning, her ears caught the tapping as it became a loud pounding, like someone had increase the volume on the world itself. The sound echoed and throbbed against her eardrums, deafening her. Rach’s hands jerked up and covered them. Her flesh only slightly muffled the pain causing her eyes to narrow in confusion, irises fixed on what she assumed was the source. Immediately her anger started to rise up like a serpent in her core. 

She bit her cheek inside to distract herself. An intense, taste of copper and iron exploded across her tongue. It nearly made her vomit right there as it seemed there was a metal works inside her mouth. With her hands raised to her ears, she watched the three prepare for something more than collecting blood. Her gut continued to twist with a dark dread  that combined with the curling sensation in her middle. Impulsively her feet started to back pedal gradually, inch by inch. Moe kept tapping the glass with his forefinger, oblivious to her reaction, before he placed it aside for an empty one. His helmet noted her for the first as the man turned then smiled fakely through the plastic film covering his face. 

And she thought she was a fucking bitch.  

Meanwhile, Larry reached for the plastic covered desk chair and brought it about. Once more the sound erupted through her ears causing her to tighten her hands upon her ears. It was almost like she was squeezing her head in a vice as it relieved the pain somewhat. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Rach hadn’t noticed her position had lowered, starting to curl into a ball against the pain when the chair skirted the floor. She managed to pull her head up long enough to spy the man, Larry, standing over her and shot him an accusing glare. 

He seemed almost as confused as she was, his arm reached out and jerked her upright roughly. His gloved hand dug into her surface, nervous or irritated by her behavior, causing her to resist ripping it from his grasp when he pulled her to the chair. Rach plopped down hard and frowned at the ass before she cautiously pulled her hands from her ears. Strangely, her hearing had lowered as if someone had turned down the volume. Through her taste was still heightened enough that it was continual effort to not spill her sour stomach acid all over the floor. It was pretty clear the guy was paranoid. Her eyes noting his careful pace and continual eyes brushing over her figure when he thought she wasn’t looking, then returned hastily back to his work. His hands reach and tied off the tourniquet. Larry, naturally, had made the knot tighter than needed. 

Agitation fluttered through her system while she watched the trio interact, not liking the scene’s tension the longer it went on. Larry turned to Moe who waved his hand to get the other’s attention and pointed to the empty syringe then jabbed a finger into his upper arm. Obviously Larry was newly hired or at least placed on the current assignment because he nodded and jabbed the needle in. The tip broke the surface before she knew it generating a glare and small cry from her lips, her arm yanked away in the effect. Her fingers curled into a fist ready to punch his lights out as it raised in reaction. 

[color=indianred]”Careful! Rach snapped, threateningly in a quiet voice. The needle was stuck half way when she jerked it out, not caring for the damage it might’ve already done, then tossed it back on the tray. Black blood dripped down along the surface where it pooled at the end. 

The reaction this time got his attention rather quickly. Larry’s figure went still and stared at her, the woman’s eyes darkened in a venomous glare in return. Naturally her neck hairs ros upon feeling the other’s eyes upon her. The silence was almost suffocatingly thick that it could’ve suffocated her. Moments ticked by, broken only when Moe was the first to move. His voice spoken through the plastic cover in what he thought was a calm, easy tone that one should use near a wild animal, his hand stretched out with the palm facing her. 

“Take it easy Ms. Desdemona. We’re just to take our blood samples than give you a sedation. Merely a precaution for transport, there-”

[color=indianred]“Like the hell you will.”[/color] Rach growled, her arms pushed her upright onto her feet immediately, leaving the chair. The wheels screeched back causing her flinch. It was enough of a distraction for one of the three stooges to move. Curly, the one she hadn’t been keeping track of, bolted to the tray to retrieve the sedative causing her to head to snap into his direction. The tray and cart were plastic and rubber, materials her newly acquired magnetism was useless again. However, despite the advancements in technology, the needles hadn’t been altered from metals as she tightened her gaze at it. It jumped up and into the man’s arm, sinking in deep. 

Curly cried out in panic then fell back onto the floor. His hand covering his arm, applying pressure into the now bleeding wound and his gloves leaked with a bit of red. He was lucky she didn’t have control or she would’ve sedated him in the same movement. 

Larry wasn’t empathic toward the man, in fact he didn’t take his eyes from her when Rach whipped around to face him. Her expression daring him to try to sedate her now. His eyes widened in terror and shifted slightly to someone behind her, Moe, who had cut the distance between them and jabbed her shoulder back. The attack caught her off guard causing her elbow to whip back and hit his ribs. She felt and heard the bones crack on impact, a thing that should’ve been impossible for her condition.  Her eyes widened in shock while Moe was sent flying backwards. Everything seemed to slow down in her perception. 

Her vision picked out his figure crashing into the glass viewing into her room. The observer already toppling from her seat and falling upon the floor, her legs shoving her to hit the alarm. Curly, ignoring his own wound, crawling over quickly to Moe. His unwounded arm starting to drag him back to the entrance while he paused long enough to scream at his companion then increased his retreat. 

Rach’s arm reached about her shoulder  and pulled, roughly, the syringe  out. Then she did the same to the plastic tie. She paused long enough to examine the syringe, debating on what had been in it and reflected on her sudden strength. The woman made no move to attack or beat the living crap out of the men currently exiting, their companion shouting for aid. She watched for several moments when a few security men arrived on the scene with first aid kits to assess the damage. A few looked at her with expression dripping with fear and hatred, something she didn’t blame them for. It wasn’t hard to see she had overreacted but that wasn’t anything new. 

Unable to stand the looks, Rach turned her body away from the window. She then tossing the item into the tray with the needle, the loud ting made her flinch in reaction when her hearing picked it up. In a short time the guards would’ve locked down the containment cell and likely subdue her in some fashion.  

At least she could get something into her meal wise before they went Rambo on her ass. Her hand reached and dragged the cart back to her bed, her steps careful to make the squeaking as minimal as possible. Sitting down, she took in the today’s meal. Sloppy looking sausage gravy and biscuits, with a side of instant potatoes, peas, and some sort of fruit cup all piled into a cafeteria like tray. Sighing in slight disgust at the smells wafting from the food, Rach’s nose wrinkled up when her stomach grumbled in protest. Annoyed with herself, she shoved the tray back onto the cart then pushed it aside. 

What she wouldn’t kill for a fresh double cheese burger with onion rings  and the fixings on top right now. Racheli flipped her feet over and flopped them onto the bed, lounging there for the moment. As if summoned by the misery she projected, Michael, or the alien virus’ project of him, materialized beside her. His soft, brown eyes examined her for a moment when his lips cracked into a knowing smirk. Her eyes sourly glanced in his direction as he moved over to the nearest wall, crossing his arms over his chest and propping his back on the bed’s post at the end. 

After a moment or two, she couldn’t stand his eyes on her anymore. It was enough to make her skin crawl and quickly hit her shit meter limit. Frustrated and still livid from her ordeal, Rach's figure once more flipped to sit on the edge of her bed. The sound of her movement was like a million parts grinding together. It only add to her twisting emotions swirling inside, threatening to choke her brief calm from her. She turned to glare at the image of her father as her words snapped at him. 

[Color=indianred]”What the fuck do you want, asshole? I’m trying to rest here.”[/color]

Rach didn’t give a flying fuck if everyone thought she was crazy because she was talking to thin air. She knew the staff was unable to see the mental projection unless he wanted them to and last time, it didn’t her any good. The woman was still quarantined against the real world until someone higher up decided it was a good time to contact and release her. Any odds of that happening wasn’t in her favor. This only added to the growing list of things that irked her off presently, her eyes fixed on the image to her right and forced herself to address her imaginary nightmare.   

Michael’s expression seemed rather cold and detached compared to the memories. Or maybe she always pretended the love and affection was actually real, not made up BS. Even when he smiled lately, she wondered why. Other than manipulating, why would he bother to show affection or any other emotion when he was nothing but hollow inside? It was question she asked since she was a child but never could create a reasonable answer. And before the monster died, he refused to answer her.   

Michael's lips curled into a wicked, no good smile. It seemed feited despite the effort to put a genuineness to the expression when he adjusted his posture, rising to his feet and straightened up. His hand still rested on the bed end though it wasn’t solid enough to affect it. His  ghostly figure shifted to face her then started to speak.  He was interrupted by her palm raised at him and glare burning into him. 

[color=indianred]”On second thought, don’t even bother. Go wherever the hell you go, and leave me alone.”[/color] Letting those words settle, she rolled back into bed then just laid there. 

Fifteen minutes later, the sedatives took effect. 

[hr]

Waiting an additional ten minutes, the CDC staff carefully entered the room. Security, outfitted with biohazard suits, were the first to touch the slumbering woman as additional men rolled in the gurney behind them. The beefiest two hoisted the woman upright then laid her flat upon the surface while the others quickly placed straps over her and securing them. Still rattled by the bizarre changes in Rach’s strength, they carefully wheeled her through the sterilized hallways to the exit. Many personnel seemed relieved to watch her depart since she was now someone else’s issue. 

In moments upon reaching the outside, Rach was rolled through a sealed tubing and locked in the back with about two other individuals. They wore more medical uniforms that EMTs used and were tasked with monitoring her vitals along the way, keeping the host alive until they reached their destination. With one final check, the last man waved his hand to get the vehicle off and heading to next CDC nearest Lost Haven.