Post by Tabrett on Jun 28, 2010 14:37:18 GMT -5
See, Tabrett wasn't one to go snooping with no reason. She wasn't curious, or bored. She was suspicious; and only suspicious, always. That didn't exclude now.
She'd heard the whispers. Hushed hints of a genius hidden away underground; where not even the feral reds dared to go. She'd heard of his... problem of ridding himself of his assistants. And the woman who never ceased to provide more.
It wasn't him. It wasn't him, but the whispers nonetheless shot a measured dose of adrenaline up her spine; the desire to run away and creep closer. Tabrett was a being of contradictions; her healthy glow and her unnatural slimness, her her outward warm beauty and inward cold blankness, appearing only in her dead eyes. She was as alive as she could be, so opposite from her icy eyes.
The same dark orbs flickered along the tunnel. She'd taught herself the tricks to "seeing" in the dark. She was a black, but that didn't mean she had an owl's vision. She saw most, but the edges of her vision, and the things just outside the curious snowglobe of visibility that surrounded her, she saw through educated guesswork. It was flawed, of course. She saw things about a quarter of her size or bigger; meaning she didn't see the half-hidden groove in the wall. No, she felt that, intelligent fingers catching the disturbance in the already-uneaven wall by learned, controlled chance. She stopped and ran her fingers up and down, sweeping them out while her thumb followed the ruler-straight groove, to find the too-perfect-to-be-natural dip in the wall. Her fingers curled into the dip, under the bit of rock hiding a cold (steal?) switch underneath. All this in near-nonexistant lighting. She pulled at the rock, and the switch inside clicked cooperatively. It was smart; the groove was small enough to only have to curl from one's finger-knuckes down into it, but large enough to fully hide the unlocking mechanism. The groove in the wall was hidden, but not so as to look like extra construction had been done on the wall. Whoever created the room, Tabrett was impressed. She pushed, just a suggestive tug, at the rock her fingers were still curled around, and the door swung, heavy but willing, away from her. She slipped into the hidden, dark room; keeping the door open enough that it couldn't lock (hovering about two centimeters from that point), but closed enough that it wouldn't appear open to any onlooker from the outside.
The inside, from what little she could see, was much more reminiscent of a post-production era. Sharp edges of steal and titanium. She'd have to keep pealed senses; it was much easier to hear movement in here; which meant hers as much as anyone else's. She crept along the room, careful not to touch anything, though she was clad in black gloves. She was wearing her normal form-fitting black long-sleeved top and similar pants, along with boots that clung to her calf and foot but had an entirely silent sole; all of her clothing made of the... special material she required. Expensive, so she had little of it, but effective, so it was all she owned.
The room looked like some sort of testing chamber; complete with vials of unknown liquid (though Tabrett narrowed them down to a few hyper-intellegant combinations--this person was good at what they did) and a spider in a cage in the corner. It looked more like a companion then a test subject (fed and not jumpy at the sight of her), so she tentatively pegged the genius as lonely (weather they knew it or not) due probably to the inverted thinking usually associated with "crazy scientists".
Well, it wasn't him. He had huge places willed with the best cronies, hidden away behind masks that were suspicious but never as suspicious as the real thing. He wasn't lonely, and he would never allow such an easy entrance without a trap following shortly after.
And he was dead.
But there was really only one way to know.
Tabrett made her way, quickly, silently, leaving no mark she was there, to the door.
And only as her gloved fingers reached for the door; only when she was seconds away from leaving, did she hear the fold of cloth; the slight, half-step that indicated about one-hundred and seventy pounds, give or take, and at least six feet and two inches. Probably male, or a tall, muscular female.
Tabrett had, really, only one choice; face the likely-insane genius; cold eyes betraying no hint of emotion.
Comments. I kinda set it up so he could be anywhere; behind her (in the lab the whole time), in front of her (entering through the door), whateverrr. :]
She'd heard the whispers. Hushed hints of a genius hidden away underground; where not even the feral reds dared to go. She'd heard of his... problem of ridding himself of his assistants. And the woman who never ceased to provide more.
It wasn't him. It wasn't him, but the whispers nonetheless shot a measured dose of adrenaline up her spine; the desire to run away and creep closer. Tabrett was a being of contradictions; her healthy glow and her unnatural slimness, her her outward warm beauty and inward cold blankness, appearing only in her dead eyes. She was as alive as she could be, so opposite from her icy eyes.
The same dark orbs flickered along the tunnel. She'd taught herself the tricks to "seeing" in the dark. She was a black, but that didn't mean she had an owl's vision. She saw most, but the edges of her vision, and the things just outside the curious snowglobe of visibility that surrounded her, she saw through educated guesswork. It was flawed, of course. She saw things about a quarter of her size or bigger; meaning she didn't see the half-hidden groove in the wall. No, she felt that, intelligent fingers catching the disturbance in the already-uneaven wall by learned, controlled chance. She stopped and ran her fingers up and down, sweeping them out while her thumb followed the ruler-straight groove, to find the too-perfect-to-be-natural dip in the wall. Her fingers curled into the dip, under the bit of rock hiding a cold (steal?) switch underneath. All this in near-nonexistant lighting. She pulled at the rock, and the switch inside clicked cooperatively. It was smart; the groove was small enough to only have to curl from one's finger-knuckes down into it, but large enough to fully hide the unlocking mechanism. The groove in the wall was hidden, but not so as to look like extra construction had been done on the wall. Whoever created the room, Tabrett was impressed. She pushed, just a suggestive tug, at the rock her fingers were still curled around, and the door swung, heavy but willing, away from her. She slipped into the hidden, dark room; keeping the door open enough that it couldn't lock (hovering about two centimeters from that point), but closed enough that it wouldn't appear open to any onlooker from the outside.
The inside, from what little she could see, was much more reminiscent of a post-production era. Sharp edges of steal and titanium. She'd have to keep pealed senses; it was much easier to hear movement in here; which meant hers as much as anyone else's. She crept along the room, careful not to touch anything, though she was clad in black gloves. She was wearing her normal form-fitting black long-sleeved top and similar pants, along with boots that clung to her calf and foot but had an entirely silent sole; all of her clothing made of the... special material she required. Expensive, so she had little of it, but effective, so it was all she owned.
The room looked like some sort of testing chamber; complete with vials of unknown liquid (though Tabrett narrowed them down to a few hyper-intellegant combinations--this person was good at what they did) and a spider in a cage in the corner. It looked more like a companion then a test subject (fed and not jumpy at the sight of her), so she tentatively pegged the genius as lonely (weather they knew it or not) due probably to the inverted thinking usually associated with "crazy scientists".
Well, it wasn't him. He had huge places willed with the best cronies, hidden away behind masks that were suspicious but never as suspicious as the real thing. He wasn't lonely, and he would never allow such an easy entrance without a trap following shortly after.
And he was dead.
But there was really only one way to know.
Tabrett made her way, quickly, silently, leaving no mark she was there, to the door.
And only as her gloved fingers reached for the door; only when she was seconds away from leaving, did she hear the fold of cloth; the slight, half-step that indicated about one-hundred and seventy pounds, give or take, and at least six feet and two inches. Probably male, or a tall, muscular female.
Tabrett had, really, only one choice; face the likely-insane genius; cold eyes betraying no hint of emotion.
Comments. I kinda set it up so he could be anywhere; behind her (in the lab the whole time), in front of her (entering through the door), whateverrr. :]
--Neutral--
