I would say not. I may or may not have forgotten she was there.
But that gives her an opening. She can sense technology, right?
32's heart is made out technology. He can't fire a gun if he's having a heart attack =P
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He could pretend he's gonna go willingly and trick 32 into lowering the gun =P
It is done.
32 dumped the body in the tub and began to clean up in a hurry. He turned the water back on to make it look like Stronghold had let his tub overflow, then went into the bedroom and picked up the mess he'd made in there. He took the fired gun and stuffed it under his belt. 32 was about to go take care of whoever had entered the condo when his headset came to life.
"Agent 32, what's your mission report?" 32 ducked back into the bathroom and spoke in a hushed tone.
"Target eliminated. A witness may have entered the condo; permission to advance?"
"No. We need you down on the streets. Project: Viper has been located, and the three agents sent to capture him have been taken out. You're the closest operative in the area. Bring him in alive." 32 wanted to point out that his current mission could be foiled by a witness, but kept his mouth shut. He never defied orders.
"Yes sir. 32 out."
32 crept back into the bedroom, too see that the intruder hadn't made it back there yet. He got his grappling hook and used it to smash the large window on the other side of the room, then shot it across the street and let it grab on to another building. He leaped, swinging through the cold, raining night. His feet landed firmly against the brick of the adjacent building, and up he went. 32 ran along the drenched skyline until he came to the location. His eyes searched the dark until they landed on the scene taking place in the alley below: three dead agents, three unknown variants. 32 only saw one male, and assumed it to be Project: Viper. He matched the description. The other two...
"Sir, there are two unidentified variants with the target. Permission to eliminate?"
"They aren't ours; permission granted."
That was all 32 needed. He jumped over the edge of the building, falling a few floors before landing on the fire escape, and then jumping down into the street. He landed firmly between Project: Viper and the two variants. Behind the goggles of his uniform, his eyes glared at the target. 32 removed his rifle from his back and raised it, then turned and pointed it at the female in the strange uniform.
"Come quietly, and the female won't be killed," He said. 32 knew the Viper's powers inside and out, and he knew the gun would never damage his skin. His conscience...maybe. 32, on the other hand, had no conscience. Only orders.
[Equipment tally:
Hand gun: 15 rounds
Hand Gun 2: Unknown
K31: 6 rounds
Two knives
Explosive]
"Agent 32, what's your mission report?" 32 ducked back into the bathroom and spoke in a hushed tone.
"Target eliminated. A witness may have entered the condo; permission to advance?"
"No. We need you down on the streets. Project: Viper has been located, and the three agents sent to capture him have been taken out. You're the closest operative in the area. Bring him in alive." 32 wanted to point out that his current mission could be foiled by a witness, but kept his mouth shut. He never defied orders.
"Yes sir. 32 out."
32 crept back into the bedroom, too see that the intruder hadn't made it back there yet. He got his grappling hook and used it to smash the large window on the other side of the room, then shot it across the street and let it grab on to another building. He leaped, swinging through the cold, raining night. His feet landed firmly against the brick of the adjacent building, and up he went. 32 ran along the drenched skyline until he came to the location. His eyes searched the dark until they landed on the scene taking place in the alley below: three dead agents, three unknown variants. 32 only saw one male, and assumed it to be Project: Viper. He matched the description. The other two...
"Sir, there are two unidentified variants with the target. Permission to eliminate?"
"They aren't ours; permission granted."
That was all 32 needed. He jumped over the edge of the building, falling a few floors before landing on the fire escape, and then jumping down into the street. He landed firmly between Project: Viper and the two variants. Behind the goggles of his uniform, his eyes glared at the target. 32 removed his rifle from his back and raised it, then turned and pointed it at the female in the strange uniform.
"Come quietly, and the female won't be killed," He said. 32 knew the Viper's powers inside and out, and he knew the gun would never damage his skin. His conscience...maybe. 32, on the other hand, had no conscience. Only orders.
[Equipment tally:
Hand gun: 15 rounds
Hand Gun 2: Unknown
K31: 6 rounds
Two knives
Explosive]
*shrug* He could still get the call and drop down out of nowhere =P
So Sheffield still hasn't gotten on.
Do you guys think I should post today and have 32 join the fight?
Do you guys think I should post today and have 32 join the fight?
Ipostthemostfuckedupstuffpleaseforgiveme
-32 and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very bad Day-
For the first two years of his life, 32 had undergone extensive conditioning and experimenting. How did they find out just how long it took for him to starve? How had they come up with the recommended numbers for his sleep, water intake, and healing rate? They put it to the test, of course.
32 was awoken, washed, and led down a hall that seemed far too long. He could barely walk, his body weak and shaking. He hadn't been given a single calorie in three weeks. His face was gaunt and pale, his cheeks hallow. His ribs could be counted from twenty feet away, his skin was thin and frail like paper, his legs could barely support him. But never the less, 32 followed his handler into a room that was very much empty. There wasn't even a chair. The only distinguishable feature was a door, and if looking at it from the outside, a two-way mirror that allowed his handlers to watch him without his knowing. 32 was taken into the middle of the room, dressed in full gear, and told not to move.
By this time, he'd already been conditioned to follow orders. But how well? By the five hour mark, he still remained standing, but his whole body shook with effort. His handlers began to regain interest when it looked like he may finally fail. Then, half an hour later, he did. 32's legs went out from underneath him. He landed on his knees, hard, and he tried desperately to get back up. When he couldn't, his handlers came in with nightsticks. He was beaten for his disobedience, and his wounds took precisely three times longer to heal.
32 was awoken, washed, and led down the hall. He had not been given fluids or food for a week and half. His skin was dried and scaly, his eyes sunken, his tongue swollen, and his mouth like sand. He swayed as he walked into the room, in full gear, and was told not to move. 32 stood straight for a whole 27 hours before he finally fell. He simply slumped over onto the ground, unconscious. They started an IV on him to get him re-hydrated, waited for him to wake, and then beat him once more for his disobedience. His wounds healed, once again, 3 times slower.
32 had not slept for a month. They kept him caged, because he had become increasingly violent. When he started to doze off, his was shocked back awake by a taser. He hallucinated, he muttered to himself, he twitched, and after the first two weeks, he had begun to vomit back up whatever food they gave him. When they were finally convinced that he was ready for the testing, they took him out, cuffed, and led him to the room. He stood in the middle, his cuffs removed, and told not to move. That seemed to click something in his exhausted brain. The soldier went stiff, stopped any noise he was making, and stood as rigid as a board.
He stood there in a coma-like state for 48 hours, and the handlers were sure that he would have remained that way until starvation set in. They pushed the experiment along a little. Sleeping gas was slowly released into the room. It began to take effect after ten minutes. 32's eyes began to droop. He started swaying, but quickly regained his balance once he realized it. He fought it; he fought it hard. But after another 30 minutes, he fell over, passed out. It was another 3 days before he would respond to any medications to wake him up. Once awake, he was beaten for his disobedience.
32 was awoken, washed, and led down the hall. He wasn't given his uniform to wear as he usually was; he was given nothing. He was taken to the room, told not to move, and left once again. After he'd stood there for about an hour, the scientists began slowly increasing the room's temperature. At 100 degrees Fahrenheit, he began to sweat. This was noted. At 150, the room began to smell like burning flesh from his bare feet touching the heated floor. Even as an audible sizzling sound could be heard from the speakers in the control room, 32 made no expression that gave away his pain. He did not move. At 300 degrees, the room's temperature gauge peaked out. A puddle of sweat and blood had formed around 32, and flesh over his entire body was visibly struggling to heal as he lost water.
His handlers had to wear special suits to fight the heat as they went to go get him. 32 struggled to walk, but did so because they told him to. The flesh of his feet had been burned all the way to the bone, unable to heal due to the constant re-burning. One of the handlers got sick at the sight and had to leave. 32 was laid out on the floor until his flesh stopped boiling. He was given water, but no other reward. Silently, he knew he had done good. He didn't disobey them; he hadn't moved. Tears had run down his face, but they hadn't seen. He had trembled ever so slightly from the worst pain he'd ever endured, but he hadn't moved. He hadn't screamed. 32 did everything he was told, and never defied orders.
When he was fully healed, a good three hours later, he was taken back to his stasis chamber and put back to sleep.
For the first two years of his life, 32 had undergone extensive conditioning and experimenting. How did they find out just how long it took for him to starve? How had they come up with the recommended numbers for his sleep, water intake, and healing rate? They put it to the test, of course.
32 was awoken, washed, and led down a hall that seemed far too long. He could barely walk, his body weak and shaking. He hadn't been given a single calorie in three weeks. His face was gaunt and pale, his cheeks hallow. His ribs could be counted from twenty feet away, his skin was thin and frail like paper, his legs could barely support him. But never the less, 32 followed his handler into a room that was very much empty. There wasn't even a chair. The only distinguishable feature was a door, and if looking at it from the outside, a two-way mirror that allowed his handlers to watch him without his knowing. 32 was taken into the middle of the room, dressed in full gear, and told not to move.
By this time, he'd already been conditioned to follow orders. But how well? By the five hour mark, he still remained standing, but his whole body shook with effort. His handlers began to regain interest when it looked like he may finally fail. Then, half an hour later, he did. 32's legs went out from underneath him. He landed on his knees, hard, and he tried desperately to get back up. When he couldn't, his handlers came in with nightsticks. He was beaten for his disobedience, and his wounds took precisely three times longer to heal.
32 was awoken, washed, and led down the hall. He had not been given fluids or food for a week and half. His skin was dried and scaly, his eyes sunken, his tongue swollen, and his mouth like sand. He swayed as he walked into the room, in full gear, and was told not to move. 32 stood straight for a whole 27 hours before he finally fell. He simply slumped over onto the ground, unconscious. They started an IV on him to get him re-hydrated, waited for him to wake, and then beat him once more for his disobedience. His wounds healed, once again, 3 times slower.
32 had not slept for a month. They kept him caged, because he had become increasingly violent. When he started to doze off, his was shocked back awake by a taser. He hallucinated, he muttered to himself, he twitched, and after the first two weeks, he had begun to vomit back up whatever food they gave him. When they were finally convinced that he was ready for the testing, they took him out, cuffed, and led him to the room. He stood in the middle, his cuffs removed, and told not to move. That seemed to click something in his exhausted brain. The soldier went stiff, stopped any noise he was making, and stood as rigid as a board.
He stood there in a coma-like state for 48 hours, and the handlers were sure that he would have remained that way until starvation set in. They pushed the experiment along a little. Sleeping gas was slowly released into the room. It began to take effect after ten minutes. 32's eyes began to droop. He started swaying, but quickly regained his balance once he realized it. He fought it; he fought it hard. But after another 30 minutes, he fell over, passed out. It was another 3 days before he would respond to any medications to wake him up. Once awake, he was beaten for his disobedience.
32 was awoken, washed, and led down the hall. He wasn't given his uniform to wear as he usually was; he was given nothing. He was taken to the room, told not to move, and left once again. After he'd stood there for about an hour, the scientists began slowly increasing the room's temperature. At 100 degrees Fahrenheit, he began to sweat. This was noted. At 150, the room began to smell like burning flesh from his bare feet touching the heated floor. Even as an audible sizzling sound could be heard from the speakers in the control room, 32 made no expression that gave away his pain. He did not move. At 300 degrees, the room's temperature gauge peaked out. A puddle of sweat and blood had formed around 32, and flesh over his entire body was visibly struggling to heal as he lost water.
His handlers had to wear special suits to fight the heat as they went to go get him. 32 struggled to walk, but did so because they told him to. The flesh of his feet had been burned all the way to the bone, unable to heal due to the constant re-burning. One of the handlers got sick at the sight and had to leave. 32 was laid out on the floor until his flesh stopped boiling. He was given water, but no other reward. Silently, he knew he had done good. He didn't disobey them; he hadn't moved. Tears had run down his face, but they hadn't seen. He had trembled ever so slightly from the worst pain he'd ever endured, but he hadn't moved. He hadn't screamed. 32 did everything he was told, and never defied orders.
When he was fully healed, a good three hours later, he was taken back to his stasis chamber and put back to sleep.
So I can't really move 32 until Sheffield come back, but because I'm a terrible, horrible person, I have a post written up of some of the fucked up experiments Weapon X did on him during his 'training'.
I was gonna post it later on as something he remembers, but if you guys like, I could post it now :3
I was gonna post it later on as something he remembers, but if you guys like, I could post it now :3
I was waiting for Sheffield to work with me on a collab post but he said he was working on it two days ago and hasn't appeared to be on since and I'm really impatient and I really want to continue posting because I'd kinda' like 32 to be sent after Viper since the other guys failed because it'd be cool for them to go toe to toe
what do
what do
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