towerofanimus | Icicles filled the long window

Characters: Sephiroth and you!
Setting: The dormitory floors, Floor 81, possibly moving to other floors
When: Forward dated to event start, April 15th
Format: Starting as action brackets, but I'll match you
Summary: Brainwashed Sephiroth is in group C. He does his duty. Except when he doesn't.
Warnings: Body horror, blood, possible violence

I: Dormitory Floors
[Sephiroth is standing quietly in your room, by your bed, when you wake up. The small child's body parts have been swapped, seemingly at random, his legs reversed, his arms uneven, his fingers out of order. There's a hospital gown sewn to his body, and his green eyes are glowing. There's no way of telling how long he's been standing there, but he must have been watching you sleep, possibly for some time.]

II: Dormitory Floors
[Sephiroth is suddenly overcome with the urge to do something... He doesn't know why, but he wants to experiment. That would be interesting, wouldn't it? There must be a suitable experiment in the area that he can work on. He moves through the dormitory floors quickly, teleporting from place to place down the corridors, studying everyone he sees, searching for a likely subject. He won't give up until he's found one.]

III: Floor 81
[Wearing nothing but his sewn-on hospital gown, he stands on the glass of the bulging out windows, gazing up at the stars. He'd woken up here suddenly. This is one of his favorite floors, isn't it? He likes to watch the stars, but he doesn't remember coming here. He's aware that something's very wrong, but he's unable to do anything about it. He looks down at his hands. They're covered in blood, and he's carrying a series of small, fleshy objects in his arms, the remnants of body parts. He doesn't remember where they came from. He glances down at the glass beneath his feet and sees that he's standing in a pool of blood, with a trail of blood leading back to the stairs.

Yes, something is very wrong.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sephiroth's eyes narrow as Avenger reaches for him, and he teleports neatly out of the way, reappearing a few feet away. He doesn't like to be grabbed, and he feels a faint, cold flicker of hostility. But it quickly fades, as Avenger isn't attacking him.

He shakes his head, because he can't answer the question. Even if he could talk, he couldn't. He doesn't remember how he got in. He's simply here.]

[At the abrupt teleportation, Avenger promptly turns to look for the spot where he reappears in and is rewarded with the sight of Sephiroth jumping back into view a few feet away. The child's close enough he can count all the mismatched fingers on his small hands.

There's a moment of consideration. Finally, Avenger decides to simply put it down to the modifications inflicted during whatever the admins had done after kidnapping all those folks and leave it at that. He gestures towards the open doorway, still whispering.]

Mind if we take this outside? I'd hate wake up these guys needlessly.

[Sephiroth's powers are all functioning normally, but as Avenger doesn't reach for him again, he doesn't see the need to teleport again. He keeps a close eye on him, however, just in case.

Asked to leave the room, he nods and complies. He has no real interest in being here. He wonders why he even came here. He's uninterested in watching people sleep. Something must have been wrong... As he enters the hall, he feels the urge to return to work, but he fights it off, looking up at Avenger instead.]

[And once they're out in the hallway, Avenger stops whispering since he doesn't have to concern himself with the minor issue of his roommates being awakened by one stranger wearing their usual roommate's face conversing with a kid who better fit into some kind of a horror show sitcom.

He looks down at him, one eyebrow raised. Dark yellow eyes narrow.]

Maybe I'm repeating myself here, but you've got yourself into a fix. [Avenger waves a hand.] Since you aren't constantly yammering on, I'm guessing you're mute now, right? Any other bodily functions that have been disabled?

[Sephiroth stands still in the hallway. He tugs briefly at the gown sewn to his body, but it remains where it is.

He touches a disfigured hand to his lips, then nods. After that, he hesitates. He can't always control what he does, so there's that, but that isn't a bodily function, and he hasn't been disabled in any other way. Slowly, he shakes his head. Somehow, in spite of the surgeries, his body still functions. He feels as strong as ever. He can fight. At that thought, he feels another quick, random flicker of desire to do violence, his pupils narrowing to slits, but it fades again.]

Mmm.

[He doubted the mind had escaped unaltered so he hadn't bothered to ask since any answer he would receive was suspect. The child's voice was gone but his hearing was unaffected, his twisted body still bizarrely functioned. How troubling.

Perhaps it could be called pity, what he feels when he looks down at Sephiroth, all mutilated limbs and glowing eyes, but it's so distant and faint it registers more as a kind of mild disgust than anything else. Avenger bends down a little so he's more on Sephiroth's height.]

Okay. Next question, are you in pain? I'm sure limbs aren't supposed to be arranged like that.

[Sephiroth shakes his head, emphatically. He had been in pain, before, but it is gone now, even as altered and bizarre as his body currently is. More than that, he wouldn't admit to weakness, even if he did feel some pain. He's not used to being weak, and he doesn't like the idea. It's important that he always be capable, in control.

Not that he is in control, now. He can feel the urge again, telling him to work. He turns away with a stiff movement that's almost robotic, struggling internally as he does so.

He gestures down the hallway toward the elevator. That was where they'd taken him. Away, to where they'd operated on him. It was the administrators' doing, obviously.]

[So, no physical or emotional pain. Just brainwashing like in those old alien sitcoms, and modification of the body on par with the handiwork of any self-respecting deranged scientist. Stiff movements implied a reluctance to move or muscles that didn't respond properly to the demands of the brain.

Just fucking fantastic.

Really, he was about as enthused about this grand mess as a teenage schoolgirl wearing a short shirt was delighted to step in a fresh dog turd. He looked in the direction Sephiroth had gestured to, following it down to the part of the hallway where the elevator was placed.]

Huh, so that's where you lot disappeared off to? The downstairs?

[He takes a halting step, but Sephiroth manages not to start to leave and return to his duties, although it takes him another moment of struggling to regain some control over himself. It's difficult. He doesn't know how long he has. Before he loses himself again.

He manages to turn back toward Avenger. Sephiroth nods. That's where they had gone. He had been working there. He wants to say what had happened, but he can't, so he frowns. He gestures with his hands, spreading them wide. There were many retrieval units. He gestures to himself. They had done this to him.]

[A short laugh, snappish and quiet escapes his mouth in a snort when Sephiroth's jerking nod and spread arms, indicating many and gestures toward himself, indicating the results in concern to his own body. The child was far from the only one who had been operated on. The pink collar wrapped around his neck showed that since it matched the color of the other new drones.

The administration's methods were what his master would called with a fury deplorable. One of the lowest.]

You're struggling.

[A frank remark.]

[Sephiroth had seen the others who had been operated on, too. He does not think he is alone, even if his own body is the only one he can point to.

He considers the remark. This is difficult, but he is stubborn. He doesn't like to admit to any weakness, and he doesn't like to give up. He hesitates.

Then, slowly, he nods his head. He is struggling, fighting mind and body, but he will continue to struggle.]

[Angra regarded him passively until Sephiroth finally inclined his head in a hesitant nod.]

If it becomes too much, I can kill you.

[He offered. Not before that, not before it becomes too much. The child obviously still had the strength of resistance burning inside him, the desire to put up a fight and desperately cling to survival. He wouldn't take that away from him without explicit permission.]

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