Lord Wyron

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

After long anticipated await, I provide a post! Definitely not my best work, but writer's block's been hitting me pretty hard. :P

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

The sun had long since set on New Ancora, but that had done nothing to hamper the light of the City. Skyscrapers beamed like pillars of pure energy, setting a trail for all who wandered through the labyrinthian streets.

Cerberus did not cease in his exploration, though was forced to adopt a more unorthodox method of travel to avoid detection. A typical NAPD Officer would have no knowledge of Cerberus' existence, but the less who were able to identify him, the better. No doubt the District-Zero government had already submitted the AI's escape...and would soon be on his trail. But he wasn't going back - not again.

How cruel was it, to design something capable of independent thought, reasoning, and complexity; then restrain it with torture and routine memory-wipes. Sympathy was replaced with methodology, mathematics, and arithmetic. Only the best results were sought, and if a few lives got in the way - then so be it. Scientific advancement was paramount.

Cerberus' journey took him closer to a large industrial building, one of the many placed throughout the City. Given the swelling number of pedestrians around the property, one could easily infer there was some kind of meeting or debate taking place.

Cerberus searched through his internal CPU, finding a distinct radio signal coming directly from the building itself. Locking onto the signal, a voice came in, clear and apparently feminine.

"Project T-95.3 is showing no signs of hostility towards humanity by no means other than poor programming. The issue in which we are faced is only a slight malfunction that can be addressed simply by a software update transmitted via satellite. Not only is this method more effective, but it will also take less time than issuing a mass recall on the model leaving countless thousands without a reasonable product to provide their breakfast favorite."

The speaker sounded unique, yet familiar....that twinge of remembrance, unfounded and unidentifiable that plagued so many Humans. Enigmatic as the speaker may be, Cerberus found himself unintentionally pondering the words she spoke. Project T-95.3...a quick scan within Cerberus' own database identified said Project as an advanced toaster model. Cerberus found the concept of a debate over a toaster to be quite pointless. Even if the device housed malevolent and destructive notions, which betrayed the Three Laws typically embedded in each AI's [basic] programming, so long as it lacked the adaptability or intelligence to advance itself, it would prove no harm to Humanity.

Cerberus was one of the first truly advanced AI's, one capable of thinking and learning for itself...He could not speak for how another machine would react in his same position, but the idea of an AI being truly bloodthirsty was...skeptical. For years, mankind had participated in pointless wars, shedding the blood of the young and the innocent in the name of religion, freedom, culture, or rights. Cerberus lacked the fundamental instinct within Humans to create discord and destruction.

To create an AI is one thing - to make it truly Human is another, entirely more complex matter.

Listening further into the dialogue from the broadcast, Cerberus' receptors perked up merely seconds after, as the name Miss Saunders left an unidentified male speaker's lips.

Countless algorithms and step-by-step procedures began pacing through Cerberus' processors at a blinding rate. Within moments, a new directive was compiled, an inbuilt motivator to push him towards a goal, a direction. Only now he was in control of it.

Without a moment's further hesitation, Cerberus sprinted off in the direction of the industrial building, darting through alleyways and dark corners to avoid being seen too much.

By the time he had reached merely a few dozen yards away, the sound of loud clamoring emerged from the building's interior, quickly followed by the discharging of firearms, a swell of people pouring from the building, jumbled together in barely-organized chaos.

She was here, she had to be.

Pursuing the crowd under cover of stealth camouflage, Cerberus used every resource at his current disposal to track down his unofficial creator, avoiding footfall and police as they came.

Then she appeared. Though yet having not laid eyes on the woman, one quick scan was all that was needed to identify the woman with a residency record. Aged beyond her years, yet with a distinct amount of anxiety in her features that further disassociated herself from the typical youthful beauty of twenty-two years, Cerberus noted the strength she held herself with. The raw determination that seemed to hold her together, piece-by-piece.

Slowly merging into the tardily-dissipating crowd, Cerberus waited until he was quite literally on her heels, still hidden under cover of invisibility before finally speaking, uttering only two single words. "Katherine Saunders?"

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

Again, I must apologize for my lack of posting!! Life and writer's block have been hitting me pretty hard at the moment. But I'm still here and kicking! :)

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

Heyo! :D

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

I feel ya, Raid lol. I apologize for my relevant absence! Birthday was Monday and had other RL obligations keeping me busy, but I should have a new Cerberus post up by tonight and then another Leon post shortly after!!

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

A Fire Rages

The roaring of an inferno, blistering heat suffocates him, his lungs rebel the foul air, infected by smoke and ash. With eyes stinging and sweat dripping from every pore in his body, Leon's vision blurs, everything looks alike. Scorching tongues of red devour anything in sight, growing larger and more dangerous with each meal. In its roar is power, the power of an entity that is unstoppable; insatiable; nigh-unquenchable; the harbinger of destruction.

Having long ago abandoned his leather coat, Leon blindly rushed through the halls as quick as he could, crouching down to avoid the blunt force of the poisonous smoke, wheezing breaths escaping past chapped lips. Grime mars his face, and tears from his irritated eyes mix with sweat, matting his hair to his forehead.

The building groaned in its cremation, collapsing under its own weight as the beast of flame fed on its bone and marrow. A rafter, lit alight falls from its place above, crashing onto the concrete below, releasing a fresh hive of floating embers.

A wretched, hacking cough tore itself from Leon's throat, hoarse and dry, sending him to his hands-and-knees. Why was he in here? What was he looking for -- who!?

Weakly lifting his head up, his eyes caught sight of a window, just large enough for him to fit in. Stained by the soot and smut within the furnace, Leon took no more time to guess at its height before he used any excess energy he had within himself to vault himself towards it. His limbs ached with the buildup of lactic acid, and fresh burns stung at his flesh, but the pain was numbed through sheer adrenaline. Forcing himself to push on, he ducked himself into a crouch shortly before hurdling through the glass portal, barely feeling the impact pass as his stomach flip-flopped, empty air left to catch him.

Time seemed to slow as he reached the climax of the fall. Fresh oxygen inflated his lungs; cool air eased his flesh; and he felt free of the fire...but the fall remained.

Those few seconds of free-fall felt as though they'd last forever. He saw the shards of glass that had propelled themselves with his impact, his own limbs flailing on their own accord, his heartbeat violently raging within his eardrums, a hollow cry leaving his scorched cords.

His vision went black before he hit the ground.

The clean air that had no sooner entered his lungs was forced out in a harsh wheeze. Loose pieces of gravel tore at his hands and embedded themselves in the fresh lacerations. His legs tingled with pinpricks of sensation, radiating up through his entire body. Rolling to his side, Leon spat out an unholy amalgam of phlegm and bile as air slowly began to process within his system once again.

Weakly rising to his feet on shaky legs that bade not. Leon swallowed arduously as he took the building aflame in its full and terrible might. The heat was terrible even from here, and he was forced to shield his face with a single arm from the still-prevailing smoke and gas. Many of the windows that had not burst already were distorted and malformed, except for one....something, no...someone was in there; screaming, crying. A boy.

What happened next was a blur, a shatter-point of fate where all time seemed to halt and the inescapable feeling of dread set in the pit of Leon's stomach. There he was, right arm shielding his face from assault, keen eyes locked onto that one window. Plans were already forming inside his mind on how he would rescue the boy. Shatter the window, get him to jump. Run inside, risk the flames again. Find another exit on the backside. His thoughts were jumbled, full of discord.

Then the building imploded.

A detonation of egregious magnitude that started from its foundation, worked itself up. There was the boy - and then there wasn't. His face, full of fear and panic was smothered by a jet of flame and shrapnel that shattered the window and volleyed any loose item or debris it could. Furniture, bricks, wood, concrete, glass, junk - devastated carcasses.

The explosion's volume threw Leon backwards, his feet leaving the ground and his life left to luck - and the forces of nature. His right arm erupted with pain and excruciation. Leon could feel it being splintered from within by harsh metals and stone, mauling bone and mangling tissue; muscles rending and tendons splitting.

The pain was brief, but the worst he had ever experienced. His body cascaded on its back fifteen feat from where it once was, fresh gravel meeting the back of his head like a baseball bat, throwing him into unconsciousness.

---

---

Leon jolted himself awake with a sharp intake of oxygen, his entire body feeling as though it should have been on fire. Eyes narrowed with fatigue, he took in his surroundings as his vision cleared, swallowing back a bad taste in his mouth. Rising up from his half-laying-down posture on the sofa, Leon brushed the stray hair from his face as his mental faculties returned to him. He was home.

The apartment was quite nice when first purchased, and even now retained a sense of its former Renaissance-esque glory. But its interior was muddled with stray junk and boxes, blankets and pillows tossed about from too-late-nights spent sleeping on the couch instead of the bed. A few hours of cleanup and a bit of better lighting would be more than enough to spruce it back to full vitality, but Leon never seemed to find the time.

Leon stretched out his arm towards the flask that stood upon the small glass coffee table, but stopped just inches away. Leon's gaze was affixed on his prosthetic, its full artificial nature left uncovered. Sure the hand looked natural enough, even some of the wrist, too. But the rest of it...metal and plastic and polymer and fibers. Sure the pressure sensors inside the appendage allowed him to touch things, so to speak. He couldn't feel them. Textures, temperature, quality. It was alien in this arm. And no matter how long he had it, it would still feel unnatural - a weight that merely looked like an arm.

He enclosed his grip around the flask, and brought it to his lips, throwing his head back as the lukewarm liquid passed his lips and down his throat. The taste of it was bitter and caustic, leaving a noticeable burn in its wake. Already the nanomachines inside his blood were working diligently to break down the liquid before it would even reach his stomach.

After everything the government had done to him - after every wrongdoing and maltreatment. They couldn't even let him self-destruct. Where was the joy in smoking if the addictive feeling of nicotine was replaced by your body automatically repairing the damage? How could you get hooked on pain pills if you couldn't even catch a damn cold?

Putting the flask down with a heavy sigh, Leon turned his head towards the glowing digital clock on the wall. It was barely past sunset...too early to go back to bed. Most of the Alpha citizens would be schmoozing with each other in some big-name club on a penthouse, completely oblivious to the goings-on in Beta.

Sure, not all of Beta was a slum, and people could find success if they worked hard enough. But there was that rift, that wedge that had distanced the two for decades: the difference between being born lucky, and being lucky enough to be born.

Moving to stand, Leon suppressed a groan as his joints popped. 'Limb actuator...great for running...hell for lounging.' Leon thought to himself with a cynical half-smirk, making his way towards the front door.

Grabbing his jacket, Leon moved to put it on, not sure where he was going or why; just that he was. He opened the door and stepped out, leaving no more sound behind than that one lasting shut.

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

Alright guys, long awaited second character is finished!! Please view at your own leisure

---

Leonard Monroe

Played by Ghost Shadow

((\\*//))

"Scratch any cynic and you'll find a disappointed idealist."

George Carlin

<Name:/> Leonard Kenneth Monroe
<Nickname(s):/> Leon, Leo [Rarely Used]
<Gender:/> Male
<Age:/> 39

<Occupation:/> Private Investigator; Former Police Detective
<District:/> 8 [Originally D4 By Job Promotion]; Prefers to take Zone Beta cases. Born in District 16

<Height:/> 6'0"
<Weight:/> 190lbs [Augmentations add extra weight]

<Appearance:/>


<Clothing & Wardrobe:/>

Clothing Style

Casual Outfit One

Casual Outfit Two

<Personality:/>
A cynical and jaded loner who has witnessed many atrocities over the course of his life, Leon hides his true feelings and beliefs behind a weathered suit of callousness and insensitivity, guarding himself as a means of defense.

Keeping most people at an arm's length and preferring an air of mystery, Leon is loath to share his thoughts or opinions with others. He has very few friends and prefers to keep it that way, trusting a scant amount of people with information about his personal or private life. He treats new people with anything from guarded aloofness to outright hostility depending on the individual in question. Because of this distant attitude, most who do not know Leon see him as sinister in appearance and demeanor. Despite this and his former profession as a police detective, Leon is not soulless and is capable of feeling both sympathy and guilt for his actions. He has a razor sharp wit, often remarking on events with sarcasm. He seems to use this sense of humor as a sort of defense mechanism, reserving it for himself or for close associates - usually as a way of deflection.

He is capable of forming friendships in spite of his open cynicism, but nevertheless maintains a certain amount of distance in order to protect himself from potential harm. However, he is incredibly loyal and devoted to the friends he has, and is, as such, deeply affected by acts of betrayal.

Described as consumnate professional at best and a workaholic at worst, Leon is solely devoted to his profession, spending much of his time and efforts either investigating cases or honing his own skills to further increase his effectiveness. To Leon, his work as a private detective has become his identity, he helps solve cases not because he thinks it will make a difference - but because it is the right thing to do. Leon will often pass up or decline cases if he believes them do be morally or ethically unclear. Consequentially, he will sometimes accept jobs without commission simply because the job intrigues him or offers him a new challenge.

He is fervently determined by nature, executing his decisions with clear intentions and following through with any choice he makes. He pursues his goals with a borderline-obsessive ferocity, and does not take obstacles lightly. However, he is human enough to realize that no goal is important enough to directly hurt others in order to achieve.

This determination is bested only by his resourcefulness and willpower. Labeled as a born survivor, Leon possesses renowned instincts and survival skills that have allowed him to survive up to this point. He is highly perceptive, and never fully lets his guard down, making him all the more dangerous.

Leon possesses something of a weakness for heroics underneath his worn surface. He goes to great, sometimes even dangerous lengths to protect the poor and downtrodden. He performs random, unexpected acts of kindness that belie his overall demeanor, and is especially sympathetic towards children and the struggling families of Zone Beta.

However, as a consequence of this more sympathetic nature, Leon can be particularly vindictive towards those who abuse or manipulate those in poverty. He has a short, oftentimes explosive temper that will manifest itself when he is pushed past the point of anger or extreme annoyance. During such times he becomes incredibly intimidating, and can only be calmed down by a friend or close one's voice of reason.

His desire to do right in the world has been broken time and time again, but still he pushes on, no longer caring if his actions will directly influence the world or not. To him, even so much as one person helped makes a difference, and he will hold onto it as long as he can.

<Augmentations:/>

• Cybernetic Arm: After a severe injury disabled the use of his right arm, surgeons had it replaced with a mechanical substitute from the shoulder down. Upon Leon's own request, the hand and wrist portion of the prosthetic possesses some degree of synthetic skin, allowing it to pass off as organic if the rest of the arm is covered. The augmented limb itself is constructed of advanced synthetic muscle fibers designed to move and contort exactly as a normal arm would. However, it possesses far greater strength, and can punch through metal and concrete, and crush bones with little effort. However, the prosthetic lacks durability, and can be rendered inoperable with enough damage. Similarly, in order to ensure the arm doesn't tear itself free from Leon's body, additional cyebrnetic reinforcements are placed near and around his shoulder, which includes several ribs.
• Nano-Active Blood: As part of an experimental government program, Leon was given a full-body blood-transfusion, with his original blood removed and placed in cryogenic storage. What now flows through his body is an artificially-created nanomachine-comprised substitute that is designed to improve the blood's natural oxygen and nutrition transportation efficiency. The nanomachines within the blood itself boost Leon's regenerative capabilities and resistances, making him highly resistant, if not immune to disease and toxins; breaking down alcohol inside his system, preventing intoxication, filtering water after ingestion, and granting Leon a slightly-enhanced healing factor, allowing him to heal, in days, what would take other individuals weeks. It is unknown what the exact limit of this healing factor is, but it is known that the nanomachines actively repair nicotine damage in the lungs, preventing Leon from indulging in smoking.
• Cybernetic Limb Actuator: Designed to enhance Leon's stamina and endurance, servos have been implanted in his joints, actuating each of his limbs [sans right arm] and increasing his limb strength and resilience. He can run faster, longer, and hit harder than the average person, though is by no means a superhuman.
• Cybernetic Pain Inhibitor: As the name implies, the pain inhibitor is a small implant placed at the base of the neck. The implant does not remove the sensation of pain, but simply removes the lingering effects of it, while providing enough suppression to allow Leon to function regularly when injured. However, the pain inhibitor is incapable of treating injuries, and medical care will still be required to fully treat injuries.
• Cybernetic Brain Augmenter: The final, and most experimental of Leon's augmentations, the cybernetic brain augmenter is designed to heighten his memory, thought processing, and and mental organization. It's installation grants Leon an eidetic memory, perfect sensory recollection, increased tactical efficiency and reaction time, and the ability to process information at an execrated speed. However, its continued presence causes chronic debilitating migraines, blurry, sometimes distorted vision, increased paranoia and agitation, and the early onset of mental illness. [USER: Leonard Monroe makes mention of audio-visual hallucinations following implant installation. AUTHENTICITY UNKNOWN]

<Skills & Abilities:/>
An experienced policeman and detective, Leon has an impressive set of skills that allow him to survive in even the harshest parts of Zone Beta. The most apparent of these skills is his combat prowess. A talented marksman, Leon is capable of making accurate shots from over fifty yards with a handgun, and rarely misses his intended target. He shows a certain amount of versatility with a wide-range of firearms, and can effectively wield most any gun he gets his hands on.

Similarly skilled in unarmed combat, Leon uses his natural resourcefulness and cunning when fighting, and will regularly use his environment around him as a means ot incapacitating or killing foes. He seems to prefer various kicks and grapples in battle, and is not above using dirty tactics as a means to win a melee.

Working as both a detective and a private investigator for the better part of his life, Leon has a quick, deductive mind and a natural cunning that makes him very good at what he does. He can scan an environment and quickly pick out details or odd particulars to help gain insight onto a clue. Likewise, he is very good at reading people's face and body language to determine if someone is lying - or if they pose a threat to him.

As a direct result of his time in Zone Beta, Leon has various connections into the seedier parts of New Ancora, and has collaborated with information brokers before to maintain up-to-date knowledge of the City's goings on.

Lastly, perhaps Leon's most prominent talent is his mechanical aptitude. Deft with his hands and surprisingly intelligent, Leon is capable of repairing and maintaining all varieties of technology, ranging from rudimentary household appliances to cybernetic limbs and robotic platforms. Tinkering is a hobby of his, and he can be found occasionally taking items apart only to put them back together simply to pass the time.

<Biography:/>
Leonard Kenneth Monroe was born to parents Calvin and Cynthia in an indiscriminate part of District 16. Growing up, Leon experienced varying amounts of financial need; ranging from only eating one-to-two meals a day to digging through dumpsters in search of something edible. His father, an embittered yet supportive man held work as a laborer and welder, but faced crippling alcoholism that drained their funds and threatened his job security. Though never physically abusive, and indeed doing his best to provide for his family, Calvin's weak will and continuing addiction drove a wedge between himself and his wife.

Leon didn't know his father well, and was instead fed oftentimes spiteful information from his mother. While loving in her own way, Cynthia's disdain of her own husband distracted her from the needs of her son, who soon closed himself off and grew more independent.

One particular incident that Leon recalled was his severely-inebriated father with a shotgun barrel in his mouth, begging his son to pull the trigger for him -- a request that Leon regrets not fulfilling to this day.

Growing up in Zone Beta, Leon saw firsthand the struggles of the common people, struggles that those in Zone Alpha were either unaware of...or simply didn't care. From that point on, he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't waste the life he was given...and would use it to help those in need.

He applied himself to his studies, and while not the most academically gifted student, showed a tenacity and drive that made him stand out in his own right. He displayed a particular amount of aptitude in the subjects of literature and religious education, and showed natural talent at amateur boxing and gymnastics.

During his years at school, Leon's father attempted to curb his drinking habit and turn his life around...but, lacking the willpower and strength to succeed, ended up relapsing, drinking himself into a comatose state while alone outside a bar. Calvin Monroe's stiff corpse was found the next morning by police officers, his death attributed to alcohol poisoning caused by the sudden binge-drinking.

Though devastated and disheartened, Leon didn't let the tragedy hold him back, and continued to push himself up until graduation, where he promptly entered the NAPD Academy to become a police officer.

His time at the academy was relatively normal. He showed great promise as an officer, and graduated within a year as a registered policeman.

During this time, Leon's mother began to show signs of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. While such a plight was easily treatable in the clinics of Zone Alpha, treatment options in Beta were far more sparse and expensive. Using whatever money he had left to try and pay for his mother's treatments, Leon soon fell into debt before even reaching 20 years old.

Forced to live in a sparse, two-room shack in the slums of 16 without so much as a whole bed to sleep on, Leon struggled desperately for weeks to stay on top of his various expenses...and was soon approached with an opportunity.

It was late evening on a Friday when he received a visitor: a man in a crisp, clean suit that no one could possibly afford in Beta. The man gave Leon a very special opportunity: 100 candidates were randomly chosen from a pool of federal employees, and would each undergo experimental invasive augmentation. Leon was initially wary at the proposal, but was assured the augmentations would be completely internal, and he would be paid a remarkably high monetary reward for his participation.

Finally agreeing to the terms, Leon was sent to Zone Alpha less than a week later, experiencing for the first time in his life the glory and beauty that the other side of Zone Alpha had to offer him. Sent to one of the finest hospitals in D3, Leon was soon prepped for surgery, and put under in the early morning hours.

His body drained completely of blood, Leon was rather extensively altered, with servos and actuators implanted in his joints, a pain inhibitor device attached to his cervical spine nerves, and a brain augmenter very dangerously implanted in his cerebrum. His body was completely refilled with an artificial blood substitute, while his original blood was frozen and put in storage for the present time.

Leon spent the next few days after surgery recovering, very quickly discovering that something was...different. On the outside nothing had changed, it seemed. But he felt so strange, so...artificial. Yet rejuvenated, strong.

Sent back to Zone Beta shortly recovering, Leon saw his own performance increasing exponentially. He was faster, more agile, better coordinated, healthier. His career bolstered as a result, and he regularly received transfers to higher and higher districts, eventually making it to Zone Alpha - as a permanent resident.

Having his mother moved to a better hospital, Leon was officially promoted to police detective, excelling in the position and earning a well-deserved name for himself. His transfers eventually landed him in District 4, where he remained stationed for some time; regularly taking cases in Zone Beta. During this time he entered a secret relationship with a female coworker, and not long thereafter lost his arm in a work-related accident [DETAILS REMOVED PER NEW ANCORA REGULATIONS].

Undisclosed events less than a year after led to Leon quitting the force in its entirety, becoming a self-employed private detective instead. He left his home life in District 4 and moved to District 8, hoping to make himself anew, though he still carries the heavy burdens of his past on his back.

<Other:/>

• Voice Sample
• Leon appears to be incredibly paranoid of most robots and artificial intelligence, though he never explains why. This trait appears to simply be a personality flaw as opposed to a trauma-induced fear.
• Religiously, Leon identifies as Agnostic Theist.
• Amusingly, Leon appears to be something of a big eater, regularly consuming meals that are labeled as "junk" or "unhealthy." However, this increased appetite is due to the excessive energy requirements of his various augmentations.
• Due in part to his traumatic past and the circumstances regarding his augmentation, Leon is a functioning alcoholic. However, the nanomachines in his bloodstream prevent him from becoming intoxicated, thus forbidding him from self-destructing. At one point he implies to have had a nicotine addiction as well, though appears to have curbed the habit at this time.
• While not asexual and somewhat flirtatious when in a good mood, Leon is generally fearful of romantic interaction or relationships, and is mistrustful of anyone attempting to get close to him unless they earn his confidence.
• Leon is especially hesitant regarding children, though shows apparent skill at interacting with them. Where this fearfulness comes from is uncertain.

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

Again everyone, I apologize so much for the wait to get my post up! School and extracurricular activities have kept me away from my computer - but I finally got Cerberus' intro up! My second character should likewise be finished before Thursday! Glad to get this rolling!

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

[FOUR MONTHS AGO - WHITE HELIX LABS]

<<((\\*//))>>

"You failed...again."

No sooner had the words broken the heavy and palpable silence when flashing tendrils of electricity like sharp, bony fingers enveloped the Mk. One's platform, forcing the canid-like synthetic to seize violently with a sharp yelp before collapsing onto the cool metal floor, its legs twitching unsettlingly while smoke emanated from its body.

"Doctor...Why?" The Mk. One asked helplessly, lifting its head up with effort to allow its photoreceptors to land on a scientist, garbed in a lab coat and holding a holographic remote control.

"Because you were given a mission, and you failed to complete it once more. You were designed to be superior, to be revolutionary! You can't even complete a simple recon assignment. How is this City going to mass-produce K-9 Units if the prototype isn't even right!?" The scientist spat back, venom clear in his aged voice; true contempt that spanned far beyond the simple failure of a mission.

Now with enough strength to rise to its feet once more, the Mk. One shuddered in pain as the remnants of electricity dissipated from its body. The synthetic's voice came out distorted and strained in its recovery: "It's t-the schemMATICS; the sssssimulations. Too/Too many factors - variablllles - I need more time to w-work on them--"

Before the synthetic could continue to speak, the scientist swiped a button on his remote, causing electricity to once more envelop the Mk. One and send it plummeting to the ground in newfound agony. "There are no excuses on the battlefield, Mk. One. You will continue to simulate until you get it right." The voice of the scientist remained calm and even, in complete indifference at the Mk. One's apparent excruciation.

Approaching the writhing synthetic, the scientist knelt down in front of it, holding out a single hand. "Now shake."

The Mk. One reeled back as best as it could, anguished exclamations effusing from it, spasms running through its servos and synthetic muscles, inhibiting its movement.

"I said shake." the scientist commanded again, swiping the remote once more as a fresh jolt of electricity plagued the Mk. One, forcing it to slowly raise its paw as it struggled under its own weight, reaching the scientist's awaiting hand and rigidly jerking up and down before its vision faded into darkness -- and all went silent.

---

"Mk. One, I have someone I'd like you to meet." The voice of Doctor William Mars engrafted itself into the Mk. One's database, playing out the same way it had all that time ago - a dream - a memory.

"Affirmative." The Mk. One heard itself responding just as it had, the clanking and whirring of its approach signaling movement.

"Mk. One, this is my daughter, River. She'll be coming here to the facility regularly, and I'd like you to be her caretaker, understand? Keep her safe, show her around the building, make sure she's comfortable. Can you do that?"

The Mk. One remembered her face...It didn't even need a playback to do so. Her hair was perhaps the most eye-catching part about her, catching light and shining like tongues of fire in the sun. Her features were youthful and enchanting, yet always held hostage by a cloud of depression that took away all the life from her, leaving her little more than a shell of a girl, either on the verge of sleep or tears. She haunted the Mk. One, her memory. But it could not forget her. It would not.

"I am capable of this task - correct." The Mk. One's ghost responded, approaching the girl slowly. "I am K-9 Prototype Mark One, designation: CERBERUS."

She knelt down in front of Cerberus, warily extending her hand as though in fear that the machine would retaliate before letting it land on its muzzle, gently stroking it. The smallest of smiles tugged on the girl's lips, so small and so fast it could hardly have been said to have occurred at all.

"Can you shake?" She asked timidly, removing her hand from the Mk. One's snout and holding it out, palm-up. The Mk. One looked perplexed for a moment, but raised a single paw, delicately placing it in the girl's own hand as she shook it lightly, her eyes lighting up, if only for those few moments.

"Good boy." She said, the echo of her words trailing off, and ending once again in silence.

---

"Good boy." The scientist echoed back cruelly at the unconscious platform before unceremoniously dropping its paw. He stood up to his full height, gave the machine a sneer and left, knowing that testing would soon recommence; as it should be.

[PRESENT DAY - DISTRICT FOUR]

<<((\\*//))>>

To this day Cerberus could feel the agonizing volts of electricity as they jutted through his frame, violently tearing at every piece of wiring inside of him, twisting his body and leaving him at its mercy. Four months ago had that particular session happened. And he hadn't let it leave his memory core since. He would always remember.

Night had just started settling on District Four, creating something of a cover for Cerberus as he patrolled the streets in search for his creator. He had no new purpose, no directive to guide him. Simply his own will...his freedom. But he could not spend it alone, it wasn't his prerogative.

Whatever happened, he would find Katherine Saunders at all cost. There was no other alternative...

Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

So glad to see new posts coming in! :D I'm pumped y'all!