mayfield_rpg | (no subject)

[Welcome to the Factory.

A blackened, dilapidated building sitting on the edge of town, it seems to have appeared out of nowhere overnight. It is surrounded by an electrified fence; should anyone on the outside (or the inside) try to cross it, they will find themselves repelled by the force with painful electric shocks. No amount of strength, size, magic, or flying ability will get you past the fence.

The Factory itself looks like it's been through hell. It's falling apart on the outside. Half of the building looks collapsed. The bricks are scorched. All of the window frames are rusted. It certainly doesn't look like a place that should be up and running, but it is. Dr. Johnson and her team are scurrying around the building, performing treatments, operations, and experimentations- making 'improvements'.

Following your treatment and/or surgery, you wake up- or don't- in a filthy room. It's nothing like the fairly sterile surgery room had been. You're crammed in there with dozen other 'patients', each in varying stages of recovery.

You're probably in moderate to severe pain. The pain might be so great that you are incapable of moving. Perhaps some of your limbs are missing or maybe you find huge gaps in your memory. Maybe you're very sick with some disease you don't recall developing. Either way, you were sent in for 'improvements', and you've been 'improved' as much as Dr. Johnson thinks you needed.

If they're lucid enough, the other patients will probably talk to you. You'll find that, like you, they're all non-drone townspeople.

You'll be contained here for 24 hours. Following that, you'll be released. When you leave the building, you'll find yourself outside the hospital in Mayfield with the Factory nowhere to be seen.

The Factory rooms are as follows:

Recovery: A large recovery room with dozens and dozens of gurneys and beds. It's filled with equipment like IVs and medical charts. This is where all characters will wake up. It's very unsanitary in here.

Operating room: Where you endured your surgery, treatment, and/or experiment. All operating and medical supplies are still here. Dr. Johnson is nowhere to be found.

Supply room: Standard medical supplies are found here. They include typical doctors' equipment, bandages, medicines, and the like. There's nothing particularly strong or lethal here, nor is there anything sharp which could be used as a weapon.

Lobby: The front lobby of the Factory. Designed like a hospital lobby, it also contains the waiting room. Dated 1950s magazines are strewn everywhere.

Today, January 30th, the following characters will be brought to the factory following their operations:

Rikku
Belphegor
Ilsa Higa
Terezi Pyrope
Equius Zahaak
Yukihina
Blue
Ivo Robotnik
Signless
Ichirin Kumoi
Bazett McRemitz
The Captain
Canada
Gamzee Makara
Poland
Hiccup
Dizzy
Mesousa
Flandre Scarlet
Haruhi Suzumiya

[ooc; The Factory post will be used for IC interactions for the 24 hours that your character will be made to stay. They are free to interact with other patients before their release. Only the above characters should reply to this post.

The mods will respond to the sign-up comments of the above characters to let them know the results of their surgery.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...all...gone?

[Her eyes and her head are telling her very different things. Which was right?

She settled to the floor again, pupils dilated out to the point where the irises were barely visible.

Abruptly, Flandre snaps at one of her empty sleeves--yet finds...nothing. No resistance. No pain. Nothing at all. She releases that sleeve only to attempt the same on the other. Her fangs crack together with a barely muffled metallic click.

Then she froze--then shuddered, then surged forward in an ineffectual dash for the wall on legs that weren't there. But they were, they were, she was just feeling sick is all, they were there--

Flandre smacks into the wall face first, scrabbling uselessly down its face with a wing and opening new tears in the dirty, faded wallpaper.

She wasn't going very fast and wasn't really injured by this--but she folds up limply anyway.]

...

-Some things never changed. They may have taken away Dizzy's identity, but they didn't take away her compassion. Flandre would soon find herself embraced, warmly and tenderly, by the girl.-

There there... It's okay if you want to cry...

[Flandre remains limp when she's picked up, and is at first unresponsive. There are arms around her now--still not her own, but...she was being held. Squeezed ever so gently--a hug.

They normally made her so happy she would be beside herself for a moment, but now all she could do was shudder and whimper and bury her face.

"Why" was a question she'd asked herself often; why she was sick, why she was so alone. But this was new. Unpleasantly so.

The vampire's shoulders shook again.]

I've cried a lot too, little one... So we can cry together. You're not alone, at least...

[Alone. That had always bothered her, being alone. Sometimes it was nice or at least tolerable--somewhere she could run away to. Most of the time it just made her chest hurt; made it feel all cold and empty.

...but she didn't have to be. Not now. There was someone here, someone warm and saying kind words to her. She didn't have to hide in her own mind now.

Flandre lifted her face to look up at this person holding her--and tears welled up in her eyes as she did so.

She looked away as the shivers and whimpers grew worse and worse until she broke, sobbing disjointedly against this strange girl's shoulder.

...but not alone.]

-Alone. Dizzy had never truly known being alone. Even in the deepest darkness of her admittedly short existence, she always felt that warm presence of someone else. Testament, May, Johnny, Sir Ky... Sol. Never had she truly known loneliness. Not until now. In that blackness that filled her, there was nothing else... Or at least, that had been the case.

She had her own tear to cry, wetting the little blonde hairs of this sweet girl's head. Tears that spoke of that emptiness, that loneliness. But it was always only temporary. She cried...

... but not alone.-