3012

[Paroxysm]

“-----lo”

After sometime walking and turning a corner, Johnny found himself in a new room, he was hopelessly lost, but he wasn’t discouraged.

“Hello? Anyone home,” he yelled, peeking his head into what he guessed was another Med-Bay. “Nobody? Well, I reckon that’s just as well.”

Walking completely into the room, the cowboy took a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings, noticing the (now empty) cryo-pods and then noticing what he assumed was a corpse, covered as though in respect. Maybe something really had gone wrong.

Regardless, he took his time inspecting the room, the empty cryo-pods and, eventually, made his way over to the corpse. Now, Johnny wasn’t one to disrespect the dead, nor was he all that attentive when it came to details, so he didn’t bother uncovering the thing, but he was curious as to what happened. As of now, he could still hear the occasional sound of various automatons walking throughout the complex, if he concentrated; he could also hear the sounds of others, more people, or what he assumed were more people. After all, he had already met a few of them just a little while ago.

“Damn, now. This here’s creepy,” he whispered to himself, as he leaned down towards the corpse, with two fingers firmly placed on the pinched part of his hat, freezing just above the thing.

“Could’ve sworn I just saw this thing breathe,” he said as he straightened his back and took a few steps away from the thing.
“Couldn’a been,” he dismissed sternly. “Thing’s deader than everyone I knew three hundred years ago.”

Johnny once again looked about the room, removing the corpse from his thoughts and wandering back over to the cryo-pods, inspecting them further and especially the one that looked as though it had been torn apart.

“Okay, well, that probably can’t be good.”

Kneeling down, the man picked up a few bits and pieces of wire, metal, and whatever else managed to come off from the cyro-pod when it was haphazardly ripped into, Johnny wasn’t a mechanical genius, but he had some knowledge on machines, he maintained and repaired his own, after all, and he could definitely surmise that the thing was ripped out and it didn’t just blow a gasket.

Shrugging, the man put a few of the copper bits of wire into the pocket of his button-down shirt, and once again took to standing.

“Don’t suppose there’s a map of this place,” he remarked sarcastically.

[Toneh]

The lights in the room were lit, and the resident floor cleaning bot hung limply from the wall. Its battered body was smoking violently as his power was being drained and his baser circuitry was starting to fry. Will clever, it was not very efficient for the robot to be used for the task of powering an entire room.

Johnny would see that the room was in proper working order, if not a little sparse. There were an umber of other cryo pods, that housed the preserved, though brown corpses of those who did not have the fortune to be standing their next to him. “MAP.” A distinctly soothing feminine voice would echo behind his accented words. A computer monitor above the sleeping child would switch on, displaying a crude map of the facility. It gave hi clear directions to all of the facility’s various rooms. The two Cryo bays marking the heart of the facility, and each linked together by the Medical bay which was in-between them. The Main hall was shaped like a T, with stalk leading to the Hanger, and the split portion connecting the rest of the facility. On opposite ends of the hall way was the recreation room(If he happened to make a right when he exited the room) TO the left, on the far end of the hall way was the Dining hall and kitchen.

The accommodations were very Spartan at best, but once he got a good look at the lay out of this facility, a wise man would realize that this place was little more then a storage locker, and did not have the required Laboratories and facilities for the intended operations of the sleepers.

Clearly who ever was at the front of this project had another facility in mind for the “Sleeper Project”

The Cowboy, who would no doubt be studying the map would soon feel a sharp stink on his left buttock. The little nurse bot “Girlie” took no exception to administering him his one time shot. She would, just like With Marcus dash away in an effort to avoid the wrath of a disgruntled and cranky sleeper who had just survived a 1,000 year slumber.

[Zenith]

The icy cold water jetted down his muscular back and yet he didn't flinch a bit. After a few hundred years in a tube of 'cold', Mark didn't think the water felt that bad, nor did he ever expect it to be warm - just wished. A steaming hot shower was in his mind and his lips curled into a smile as his face submerged beneath the chilled liquid that rained upon his face and caused various ranges of splash damage to the wall and floor around him. The pressure was good and that was all that mattered as he washed the various parts of his masculine frame and then paused to snap his head toward the door. Out of his peripherals was a motion, and if he'd have had something in hand -- it would have been thrown with such accuracy that even a champion dart thrower would have gasped.

"Fuckin creep. Probably has a camera on it and people are watchin' me shower."

With the shower off, Markus stepped to the mirror to examine himself and his lacking-gruffy self. Beard was trimmed, as was the fat from his body; abs were taut and defined, so perfect, one could nearly bury a knuckle of a digit in the valleys of each individual abdominal muscle while tracing his frame. Pectorials weren't so defined, though still stood out from the rest of his lean, vertical frame as he paused to see a duffle bad resting on the floor behind him through the mirror. Wrapping his towel around his waist tightly, the bend in his knee and around his hips substantial, Mark spun on the ball of his foot. Moving to the bag, he knelt to flip the flap open and rummage -- wondering what was in it.

[Paroxysm]

“Huh,” Johnny sounded in slight surprise. “Isn’t that convenient.”

The man would not have much time to study the map, however; as a sharp sting brought his body into a riot and his head twisted around to find the source of his outrage and instead, finding only a fleeing automaton, who had already gotten a considerable ways away from Johnny, fearing for its pseudo-life, no doubt.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ me,” Johnny mouthed, as he started after the thing in a fit of revenge. It wasn’t that he had a problem with being administered a shot, in fact, if it prevented him from dying a cruel and agonizing death, he’d take a shot just about anywhere. But the damn thing did so as discretely as it could and punctured him right through his pants, as well. That was just bad manners. However, Johnny would only get so far before noticing a door marked Human and nothing else, a curiosity he was sure, but he recalled a similar room being on the map and, as luck would have it, he could hear the slight sounds of life inside, words, to be specific. And profanity.

The man, dismissing the small robot, Girlie as it were, instead focused his attention on the door, rapping on the surface of the frame a few times before announcing his presence and entering, to find Markus rummaging through his own sack of personal effects and clothes.

“Guess that robot’s been as busy as they come,” he said. “Got your clothes, too, right?”

Johnny remarked offhandedly about the contents of the duffle-bag, at least, what he assumed was the contents in the bag, as that was what his particular bag had and the bag of the others he had met, ten minutes prior.

Running a few fingers through his unkempt and unruly facial hair, Johnny was somewhat tempted to ask the other man if he, too, had been attacked by a small, frisky robot. However, he thought it best to not start off introductions too awkwardly.

[Zenith]

As the door swung open, Markus had rifled through his bag and pulled out an all black jumpsuit that would have qualified for a gay man maybe, based on the size it was made for - but it was all Mark had right now. His brows frowned as he stood, lifting the jumpsuit up and holding it to his body. Lifting his eyes to the door as sound approached it, Mark nodded to the gent who walked in as gruffy as he just was.

Lowering the jumpsuit, Mark looked at it and sighed heavily, "Between that little fuckin' rodent and this queer shit they've got in the future, I might as well run around in my towel. This is more queer than a circle jerk in a circus..." Mark threw the jumpsuit to the ground and then looked to the man again, laughing a bit. Snatchin' up the shaver, Mark tossed it to the newcomer and nodded, "Shit feels nice cleaned up. I'm Markus - Mark's fine though." Markus would have extended a hand, however the edict of men was strictly against touching, especially in the fucking BATHROOM. Men shouldn't talk in the bathroom, unless they're done takin' a piss, at best. However, being one of the last men on the planet, Mark would definitely coin his own Man Code of Conduct into the meaty face of this shit-holed world and carve a new path of manly righteousness!

Kneeling again, Mark pulled a seven inch buck knife from his belongings and a smile cracked so widely across his face, he would have been declared Canadian by South Park standards. The beauty that was given to him in the military, preserved and hidden away for so long -- not bestowed upon him again. He shook his head slowly, pulling the blade from the sheath. It felt weird though, lighter ... or maybe it was a thousand years of not having a knife...
As it exited the nylon sheath, it crumbled into dust. The temperature had been unregulated, the humidity had, had it's way with his blade, and the end result: obsolete. Out of rage, Markus stood, hurling the small hilt to the back of the facility and it exploded; disintegrated against the tile wall as the blade itself had. "Fuck this world already!" Mark shook his head slowly, turning around to look for anything else. -- he felt more naked without a blade than without his clothes...

[Paroxysm]

“Appreciated,” Johnny said aloud, taking the offered shaver from Markus and running the tap. Of course, Johnny frowned at the lack of hot water, preferring it over a cold running tap, but that was fine. At least for now. It would only really become an annoyance if the power wasn’t fixed. But then, if that was to happen, he’d have a lot more problems than cold water.

“Isn’t a wonder this place is falling apart,” Johnny said, echoing Markus’ sentiments against the world, even as he ran the mechanical device across his face, focusing rather intently on--purposely--missing a few spots here and there, as if he enjoyed looking half-assed. “Got yer robots runnin’ around and attacking people, got some crazy shit screaming somewhere or another, half surprised we haven’t been attacked by reptoids yet, truth be told.”

Finishing up his tedious chore and rinsing the device, Johnny sat it down and turned around, supporting the majority of his weight on the counter.

“Now that, that’s out of the way, I don’t suppose you know where they keep the beer in this place. Three hundred years in the deep works up a helluva thirst.”

It was perhaps morally ambiguous that, being one of the few surviving humans left on Earth, that Johnny was more concerned about having alcohol running through his body than doing his actual job, but there was only so much he could do with the power out and everyone else had separated without much of an explanation, himself included.

“You look like you could use a drink, anyways.”

He added, finally.

[Zenith]

"Three hundred... ha..." Markus shook his head slowly as he crossed the room near the bunk rooms to rummage through a closet. It was here, Mark found a few raggedy old pairs of BDU's, but they were mens -- and the right size, he thought to himself, looking at the inside markings. Someone's first Initial, N5125 was marked on the inside of the pants and Mark sighed with a bit of sorrow. "Rest well, comrade ..." Markus whispered. The markings N5125 meant that whoever owned them previously, their last name started with an N, and the digits were the last four of his or her social.

Mark stepped into the pant legs and then lifted it up, covering his genitals and ass with the towel on his way up - slipping the pants on and then buttoning them. The towel was off and tossed to the floor where his old clothes were and he carefully zipped himself up, turning back to this guy. "What's your name, son -- I know a thousand years of being frozen didn't cause you amnesia on your respectfulness." Markus moved back to the duffel, and then paused, looking to the man to see if his reaction had changed much.

"Yeah ... I said a thousand. The red head from earlier asked about the time, and apparently we've been frozen for a little while longer..." Markus nodded his head toward the door and walked out of the bathroom, pausing to look right or left. He walked across the cold floor with bare, nimble feet as he stepped into the kitchen. Looking around slowly, examining all that was around.

Kitchen: viewtopic.php?f=114&t=411

[Paroxysm]

“John--”

The man had just about formed a reply to his new acquaintance when he had apparently dismissed himself and left the room, not that Johnny blamed him, and they were, after all, holding a conversation in a bathroom and one of them had, formerly, been naked. That was just weird and Johnny was thankful for the awkward situation to have been resolved, however; the matter of whether or not he was going to get drunk by the end of the night was still up in the air, as Markus hadn’t quite answered him.

After a few moments of thought, Johnny, too, was just about ready to exit the room, as it finally dawned upon him, that is, that he had spent a thousand rooms under cold storage, in fact, they all had. He recalled the PDA of one of his fellow ‘saviors’ also saying something similar. The man wasn’t sure how to feel about it, though. Everyone had their reasons for gambling their lives and Johnny couldn’t say for sure that his previous life was in any better of a situation.

Finally exiting the room marked ’Human,’ Johnny was startled by a sudden Black Out.

<Scene Exit>