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[IC] Fight the Power


olopi

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GM

 

Next came complete black. Like closed eyes, with only some unidentifiable noise. How long was it? He could not tell. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? It was just black. And then, light pierced through. He could not move himself, but everything around him did. Up, and down. Tilting to one side, then to the other.

 

He could turn his head. There was somebody. Somebody familiar. The face was blurry. But he knew this person. It was right there, on his mind. ... Jeb. The man at the fight club. What was he doing in AEGIS uniform? He spoke. It was just noise, figuring out the words was difficult. Muffled and distant.

 

“... awake … still some …. To go ….”

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Synth

 

"Jeb?"

 

The AEGIS uniform? what was that? Was he hallucinating?

 

He would not be surprised. Amongst the many expert memories in his cranium, psychiatry was included. And he had every signs of serious problems in that department. 

 

"What are you doing here? Are you AEGIS?" he whispered. He was not entirely sure if it was a sapping of body or will that soften his voice. 

 

He was not entirely sure he was even a he. The almost transluscent skin was there, the hermaphroditic horror that was his base appearance. Who was Synth, anyway?

 

"Was it you? all along?"

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GM

 

 

 

There was a second voice, it was muffled too. What did it say? Synth could not tell at all, it was too distant. The first one, Jeb, spoke again. His face still blurry, features not getting more clear at all. It was as if he cut in and out of a broadcast, he was only understandable half the time.

 

 

“Halluc- … more … doses?”

 

 

There was a response from the second voice. Synth looked around, trying to figure out where it was. He could see the interior of what he was in. It reminded him of something. Once more it was something recent, as he felt incredibly dizzy all of the sudden. He looked back at Jeb. But it wasn’t Jeb. It was another face entirely, as everything faded away.

 

 

He focused himself once more, and took a second look. He’d seen this before. This man. And then it struck him. He was in a van. That was Dr. Hull. The man he’d chased… the man in AEGIS custody… And right now, he seemed to be holding some sort of syringe. And it was closing in...

 

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Synth

 

Synth clutched a painful rib, a painful lung. He was out of juice, both physically and mentally. His extraordinary abilities took their toll, and he would need rest and food - lots of rich protein - to recover. 

 

He could stand though. And meet his fate on his feet. 

 

"So it looks like you got your prize" he mumbled. "Just tell me this before you slice me open. What do you seek?"

 

He paused, concentrating on standing upright. He had fought hard, but been stupid. Running, running, always running. Even he couldn't run for ever. He just hoped - and without much hope - that his cells would not end up in the hands of SHADOW. 

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GM

 

There was a prick. And some words, barely audible, distorted. The voice changed, with every word. “No … merely … arrest … island ….

 

Everything went black once more. Synth felt cold. Something he’d not felt for a very, very long time. Cold, with some liquid surrounding him. It became lighter, then was dark again. Once more, there was a distant voice. It sounded slightly familiar, like it wasn’t the first time he’d heard this.

 

“Long story …. Dealing with the wrong people … cozy enough, right?”

 

Synth felt stronger again, as the voice approached, and the darkness disappeared. He looked back up. He was unable to move, but he was somewhere else now. Concrete, bright lighting. There was a camera facing him, and behind it, a person. She stepped into the light. And then, Synth’s emotions gave out completely. Memories of Nyberg. Memories of yesterday. Memories of dreams. Things that he was sure he didn’t happen. Things he wasn’t sure didn’t happen. All at once, overloading whatever part of him remained.

 

The face was blurry. But he knew it. He knew it very well. Sarah Shaw, K&W’s Executive Secretary. “So, what’s your story? What made you become a criminal?”

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Synth

 

"A criminal?" replied Synth, feeling slightly better physically. And worse mentally. 

 

"The Law made me a criminal" he answered, bluntly. He didn't know whom he was speaking to. It looked like Sarah Shaw, but that meant nothing. He was quite probably hallucinating. 

 

"And necessity. I don't follow the law if the law is stopping me doing what's right" he explained. That seemed right, up to now. But...was it? Perhaps the law did serve a purpose. A safety net against the intoxication of righteousness. Perhaps stopping many rights was worth stopping just a few wrongs. 

 

And besides, being outside the law had got him nowhere. 

 

"I had to stop...."

 

He stopped. 

 

"I'm not sure what I was trying to stop..." he said, meekly, dazed and confused. 

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GM

 

The face became even more blurry, and her (that he was fairly certain of), voice sounded even more different. Like the voice everybody Synth had ever known, and everybody the people involved in his creation had ever known, in a horrifying yet beautiful chorus of voices. A few voices became louder, as the others died down. The loudest was his own. Dr. Nyberg’s voice.

 

“So, you don’t remember? What do you remember? Do you remember who you are? What you are? Where you are?”

 

And the voices, the false memories, the true memories, and his thoughts, they all told him to answer differently. They all gave him a different response when he thought about it, and it was only once the person spoke that they quieted down.

 

“Anything? “

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Synth

 

"My memories? They like a storm" he replied, pressing his hands to his temples in a vain attempt to squeeze them back into shape. 

 

"I remember Anna, playing in icy fjords as a little girl with softly falling snow. Karl, leaving his wife to many tears. Horkan, discovering meterecombinant RNA strains on a newly discovered Amazonian parasite..."

 

"They are like a bubbling soup. I have lost myself..." he conceded, feeling so alone, so vulnerable. 

 

"And now, it is my end, is it not?" he questioned, insistent. "I have no wish to die, but it would be a relief..."

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GM

 

“Death? No. You won’t die. We have guards keeping the peace, and you will certainly not land on death row with what you’ve done. If you feel insecure once you have been introduced into the system, you may raise your concern towards one of our staff, and we will investigate whether or not you are eligible for protective custory.  

 

There was a short pause.

 

“If you cannot remember anything else, we will leave your new uniform here. Please put it on and be ready to be escorted to the psychiatrist for your first assessment. We will not harm you, but be aware of the fact that any violence, even just threats of it, against our staff, or your fellow inmates will be met with punitive measures. “

 

“Welcome to Blackstone, Prisoner SH-202.”

 

~ Fin ~

 

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