Project Braegen

[D]

Project Braegan – Doctor Tolstoy – Arizona – Entry 0

The human mind is a complicated piece of organic machinery. So many connections can be made in such a part. Without a doubt, the human mind is extremely important and to some, it is the most important piece of the body. Although much is known about this wondrous organ, society fails to see that there are missing pieces to the puzzle. I, on the other hand, plan to discover those pieces and share with the world everything that the human mind has to offer. Today is the day we begin…

"Dr. Tolstoy...The patients have come in." His pen remained hovering above the journal as he addressed the assistant. "Send them into waiting room A." The doctor waved the assistant away. "Yes, sir." Once he was sure that he was in the comfort of silence again he continued to write.

...Project Braegen. I have been working on this project for a good deal of my life and I am quite ready to say that it shall be a success. We will learn of those hidden pieces. It might take time, and I might be a tad bit too optimistic…My mother did tell me not to count the chickens before they hatched, but I am certain that, eventually, we will discover it all.

Today, I expect to see a pure visualization of the human mind. No, not a picture of the human brain, but what a human actually perceives to see inside their mind. Perhaps a dream world of sorts. It’s extremely hard to explain when all this excitement is building up within me…

Ready to head to the lab, he finished his journal entry. The pen dropped onto the paper and some of its ink splattered. The Doctor sighed and capped the pen before leaving his office, unaware that his predictions would be all too right.

He played an important role in Project Braegen. The Doctor’s name was Kurtis Tolstoy and he was born in Russia, but raised in America. He was nearing his golden year, but his real age is unknown to most. Tolstoy’s keeps his hair combed back and although his hair is graying, the man doesn’t look as old as he would admit to being. Being a father to four children, he couldn’t help looking like a slightly flabby father, but for the most part the man was healthy. He had daily jogs in the morning and occasional biking times in the evening. Tolstoy was a complete health nut. If it wasn’t healthy, then he wouldn’t eat it or do it, but his job as a scientist was an exception…

Meanwhile in waiting room A, there was a loud-mouthed Asian named Aiden Chi. This man was in his mid twenties, had a buzz cut, wore saggy jeans, and had a hoody. He walked into the room slightly intoxicated and with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. One wouldn’t expect a man like this to take part in such an experiment, but one of the doctors suggested that different types of people should take part in it and well Aiden came for the easy money. As far as he knew, he would be a part of what he called some “crazy beta shit.” Little did he know that what he called crazy beta shit was far more terrible than he thought.

[B]

"Log... Day 514 of project Braegan."
The British accent spoke through, a recording microphone in front of his face.
"The experiment is entering it's final stage of live testing. This is most exciting."
In addition to voice recording, his hand whipped around a piece of paper, scribbling in the dialogue in symbols only he would be able to read.
"I plan to dive head first into the brains of five individuals. Tolstoy, that old fool. He believes that we'll be diving into a world, see their imaginations as if we were there. This isn't a science fiction movie you can see on a tele. No matter, even the slightest response will do wonders for this project."
He stopped writing and looked up at the time, a smirk creased his lips and he decided to finish.
"If he was right, though... We are able to just see their dreams as real as I can see this clock... It would not be wonderful. A human's subconscious should never be released."
The tape was quiet a bit before the click ended the life of the machine.

His name was Dr. Adam Greene. A professor at Oxford University. His main study was Psychology, a useful study for this project. He helped a great deal in understanding human psychology and its views. While he tried to help with some of the technical applications to the project, the other scientists were quick to overshadow him. He was more of the keep sake, the professional they need to say this was necessary and that nothing would go wrong. He stood from his chair, black hush puppies squeaked from the marble floor, above them were a pair of brown dress trousers, respectable and skillfully ironed out. A white dress shirt could barely be seen over the brown trench coat that matched the color of the trousers. a black bow tie at the top and a clean combing to the right that was his dark brown hair. Over his brown eyes were a pair of rather large black trimmed glasses. He didn't look like he was fit but he wasn't fat either. He likely ate healthy but didn't work out much, if at all.

---

"I'll be okay..."
She whispered to herself with a low sigh. She rubbed her green eyes. The plane was shifting, losing altitude. She sucked in a breath and exhaled, again and again. Finally the large vehicle halted on the runway. She made sure she was at the front of the line of the passengers that were exiting the plane. When her brown leather boots touched the asphalt, she whispered a prayer to Jesus Christ, kissing a silver cross that dangled from her neck.

Jenna Briar, 21 years old. Barely old enough to drink and too old to get away from the law. She had shoulder length black hair, it looked dyed, the tips of her hair was also dyed a light blond. She had on a dark purple vest, a hood hanging out the back of it. Underneath was a band shirt, black and if you could see through the vest it'd have the name of "Within Temptation" along with a circular metal contraption with a double hilted blade going through it. She wore dark blue jeans, a hole in the right knee cap. To complete her outfit was a black belt, studded with metal. She made it to the facility in Arizona. It looked like any average building, of course it did, how else would they be able to keep it secret? She reached into her pocket and pulled out a half-smoken cigarette. She re-lit it with a silver lighter that said "To Jenna from Brad" an old asshole boyfriend of hers. The most she got from him was the damn lighter.
"Well Jenna..."
She spoke to herself.
"This is it."
Every word she spoke, a stream of smoke bellowed out of her pink, parted lips.
"If this is illegal, God's going to kill me."
She put out the cigarette after one last drag and put the rest of it in her pack then pocketed it. She walked into the waiting room. There were three others, one of them looked like a man she'd rather keep away from. She grabbed a magazine as protection from any small talk, and began shifting through the pages quietly.

[D]

Now things seemed to be all set and ready. All the test subjects seemed to be waiting patiently in the room while all the needed staff were getting ready for their experiment. However, the quick tap of a woman's heels signaled lateness, a little irresponsibility, and of course, her haste in trying to get to work. Never early and never on time, it was expected that this woman would be late and the only reason she was kept on the team was because of her competence that came after her incompetence.

Greene seemingly wanted her head and Tolstoy, the jolly man he was, always defended her with, sometimes, sugar-coated words. Despite the obvious disagreement about her between all of the scientists, they had to agree that she had the ability, for the most part (no one was perfect), to keep damage, be it small or large, physical or mental, to a minimum. it wasn't in her job description to do so, for she was listed as a machine operator, but it was a good thing and yet another reason to why she probably haven't been offed.

Enough about her outstanding lateness. The woman arrived and made quite the entrance into the room. She had stumbled in and her not so carefully put up messy bun of brunette hair came loose. A hint of embarassment danced about in her amber eyes and as the poor woman walked to the lab door, she tried to wipe any sweat off of her sunkissed skin. "S-sorry." She stuttered, hoping she didn't distrub any of the subjecs. The woman searched her white lab coat for her access card. Having been hastily put on, her lab coat was wrinkled and some pockets were inside out, but thankfully what she wore under was more decent. Her coat went over her brown blazer and matching suit skirt that ended some inches below her knees. Any skin below her knees was covered by black stockings and of course her brown closed heels, incapable of being quiet, covered her petite feet. Other than always being fashionably late, another charming trait of hers was that she wasn't necessarily tall. Nor was she necessarily short. She was just right, or as some would say, cute, but of course, when cute was used to describe her size, it meant average.

After a few minutes wasted on looking in the same pocket, she found her access card and pulled it out. On it read: Erica Callum. It also had a nice picture of her and a scan bar. She inserted the card, opened the door, and rushed in, closing th door behind her. Skilled in the art of running in heels, she quickly got to the room she intended to be, but unfortunately, she was met with the disappointed, and potentially pissed off, eyes of her coworkers. The first set of eyes she took noticed to was Dr. Greenes. "'l-lo, Doctor. I, uh, owe you buiscuits again." Oh, and yet another charming trait: she was a natural born joker.

After Ms. Callum's display, Aiden couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. He had been told numerous times by some chick in the window to shut up, but he and everyone else in there knew that "this asshole did what he want." After figuring out what the hell he wanted to do with himself, he opened his mouth. "That fucking bitch scientist probably's the one who is making me wait! Where's my fucking money!?" In a fit of unecessary violence he punched at the wall nearest to him and it happened to be right next to the window girl's window. The glass produced a rattling noise and the girl behind the window backed up a bit startle. "Tell those bitch ass coats to hurry the fuck up! I got places to go, bitch!"

He sat back down with a twisted frown and looked at the other test subjects. They were all there, but none of them looked any interesting... well, the piece of meat across from him. A table covered with magazines stood between them and thoughts of going over to the chick crossed him, but out of laziness, he sat down. Aiden, a man addicted to sex and other things, smiled a bit, thinking about the pleasures he could have with the girl. He would cut off her clothes and then hurt her so bad that-

"S-sir?" Aiden looked up at the window and saw the window chick. "What the fuck you want?" He asked and a click from the lab door signaled that it was now unlocked. "Please all follow me to another room. You shall be told what you are going through and shall sign a waiver..." The woman looked down at her palms and away from the intercom. "...as required by law." She muttered before looking back up. "Again please follow me." Window girl exited the room and then opened the lab door for the participents.

Meanwhile in the lab, Erica recieved her admonishments from her seniors and surprisingly Dr. Tolstoy had raised his voice at her. "I can't have you late anymore." He said. The man's voice wasn't a loud one and usually calm, but a slight raise of his voice revealed his annoyance in her actions. "Now, Ms. Callum, please take your station. We have delayed this for far too long. I must go and tell our patients, yet again, what they are to experience." Tolstoy straightened his coat and looked back at the other scientist. "Comrades, if any of you would like to come, I would not mind at all." And with that, he headed off to the room where his patients were.

Tolstoy entered the room with a professional, but friendly air to him. The man wasn't anything menacing and he wasn't going to lie to them. He was going to tell them what they wanted to hear. He was a good man, but a good speaker knew what words to use. Before all that, however, he was going to have to introduce himself and his project. "Hello." He greeted them. "I am Dr. Kurtis Tolstoy, and I will tell you about Project Braegen."

[B]

Greene shook his head and sighed when Callum finally came in. After Tolstoy gave his "Strong" speech about her being late, Greene had to add to it.
"We could have hired a lass with Alzheimers and she would be more reliable."
He grunted, shaking his head. Tolstoy went to speak with the patients. Green and the others got the stations ready. All the while Greene could be heard complaining about slight calibrations being wrong or why there was a lint ball on one of his beds. Then hearing the man in the waiting room set him off complaining how incompetent the individual was and how he would be better off in the gutter than in his room.

---

Jenna jumped when the man started his usual rampages. That asian man scared her. She took a deep breath and exhaled, sticking her nose further into the magazine. 'Just don't make yourself present and he wont look at you.' She thought to herself, keeping herself calm. A hand patted her on the shoulder, she flinched and looked up. He was an elderly gentleman at least 60 years of age. Balding gray hair, thick round glasses and a blue flannel shirt. He smiled at Jenna mimicing the words "It'll be okay." Jenna glanced a smile back and turned back to her book. What was the man's name? Greg... Yes Greg Rube. As she recalled he was a blue collar worker and proud of it. Finally, the scientist guy with a funny name entered the room and began to explain what was going on. The man paused and another door opened. Jenna frowned, the annoying Brit she remembered from the first interviews had entered.
"Tolstoy, we don't have time for another rundown. These people want their money and I want data. Lets get this moving already. Americans don't like to wait, remember?"
Jenna glanced to her left, Greg had a frown on his face. Of course the old Texan would have a frown, he bleeds red white and blue.

[D]

After recieving her admonishments she took post at one of computer stations. Next to her was the main operator and before she jump started her instruments she sighed, wishing that she had been the main operator. "Well," She let out a puff of air to relieve herself of any nervousness, "here I go." Forgetting about her brief wave of jealousy, she turned on all the equipment that wasn't all ready and within moments, she was pressing keys like a maniac to ensure that everything that she was in charge of was running smoothly. Now it was the time for her to make up for her lateness and work her magic.

Tolstoy talked about what was going to happen, but it didn't occur to him until Greene came in and told him that he was talking too much. His ears turned red with embarassment and he coughed before he told his patients to sign the waivers. Without much debate, the patients did as he told and he picked up the five waivers and handed it to the window girl from earlier. "Thank you, comrade." He smiled at her and the window girl giggled before heading back to her window. "Now," He turned back to his patients. "Follow me. You will all now meet the fine machinery."

He waved them over and led them through the hall and passed many unmarked doors. Having walked this facility on many occasions he had memorized where everything was and a good thing that was for it was easy to get lost. After some time he had led the group a large metal door. The doctor, so excited for what would happen, couldn't stop his hands from trembling and by his fault, there was a slight delay due to his brief inabilty to input the proper code into the code box. However, after that, the door slid open quickly and he ushered his guests, and "victims" (a joke between his collegues) into the room.

It was a well lit, white circular room with 3 large one-way windows in the walls. Hidden cameras and mics were in the room, but Tolstoy wouldn't tell them that, not that it would matter. (They could already see much with the windows.) The floor of the room was transparent and revealed the many wires that connected to Project Braegen's pods. There were, for now, five pods, placed in a circle around the room. They were like beds, but the users would be incased in a transparent coccoon of sorts. They seemed simple enough, but the machinery would reveal its complecity later.

"The pods shall open and when it is open, simply lay down inside it. We shall take it from there." Tolstoy looked at at the patients. "You do not need to undress yourselves and..." He thought for a bit. "I suppose that's it." Tolstoy nodded his head and walked passed the group, but of course not before being pushed roughly aside by the asian man. Although the russian born scientist towered over the small asian, he felt an uneasiness about Aiden and wondered how the hell he had came to be one of the men accepted. Perhaps it was a cruel joke...

From the briefing and finally into the room, Aiden did not shut the fuck up. The chain cursing loud mouth commented on everything he hated and he heated a lot of things about this place. He didn't stop until his eyes saw the room and the sight caused him to grin. He was going to get some easy money soon. He walked in after pulling up his sagged pants and picked the nearest pod to the door. One of the other patients had tried going to the same pod but his glare was more than enough to advise the other patient away.

He waited patiently, surprisingly, and when it opened he was quick to jump in. "Start this mothafucking shit up!" He yelled once he felt comfortable lying down. As soon as the others were in their pod things, the metal door slid close and locked. He grinned one of his crazy grins, fearless and perhaps a little idiotic but the asian didn't care. All he wanted was the money.

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Mickey O'Neil stepped off of the SAL airliner ("Scottish Airlines Limited" was painted in a eye-straining red against the plane's white shell exterior) and into the sweltering, bone-dry Arizona heat. Cursing himself for dressing like it would have the bitter chill of his homeland, he violently shoved a thin sweatshirt and beanie hat into his carry-on bag and further shoved his hands into his pockets. He wore a wrinkled white dress shirt, with buttons missing here and there and a popped collar, covered by a black vest in a similar state of disrepair. His hands bulged uncomfortably from inside the black slacks.
He waited at the luggage claim, making idle conversation with the people around him, but it rarely came to fruition. Most of them looked at Mickey like he was speaking a foreign language, which, he supposed, he was. In his line of work, a fast tongue and a thick accent were king. His was cockney, and he talked plenty faster than you could listen. The only thing that slowed him down was the incessant need to refill his lungs.
Eventually, his luggage came around the carousel and he picked it up. Standing against the blacks and blues of the rolling luggages of the crowd was Mickey's duffel bag, as red as the blinding airliner that was far out of sight by now. It had some logos on it, stickers and silk-screen prints and simple marks made with a Sharpie. Most of them were either names or places, but a select few were fighting brands, TapouT, Everlast, among others. He shouldered it out the front doors and hailed a cab.

This job was a fluke as it was. He won it, and everything else, off of some guy that looked like David Hasselhoff on a game of Dog's 'n' Birds. Simple-ass game, just bet which dumb-ass bird the dog gets out of the flock. The birds are marked with ink, or paint, numbers usually, and set free, the hound is set on the birds. You put money on the dead bird. If you win, good for you, bastard. If you lose, well, you're betting against a pikey, so you'll always lose. That's why he needed to be hard to understand; makes the winnings that much better.
In any sort of game, Mickey was the one to watch. He wasn't a gambler because "gambling" implied a possibility of losing the bet. He did play. And he boxed. He did a hell of a lot of boxing.
In this particular case, Mickey had bet the man against the entire camp of gypsies. If the dog got the right bird, Mickey won one hundred dollars, if he lost, the man got one of their caravans. The nice one, even. Real nice, with porch lights and racing stripes and new seats, real nice. Enraged with a first loss, the man bet again and again and again, and eventually, the only thing he had left was a little voucher in an envelope. It promised easy money, and Mickey liked that idea. Plus going to America and leaving the kids with Mum was more than welcome. So, with his usual air of cockiness and excitement, took the bet, and send the bastard back to his mum with his tail behind his legs.

As he stood on the curb looking for a yellow taxi, he produced a black fedora-style hat from his duffel bag and plopped it, lopsided, over a mop of sandy brown hair. he scanned the street with eyes, somewhere between green and hazel, that gleamed with intelligence, and scratched his chin, the product of a week and some without a decent shave. Eventually, he got a cab and read off the address on the voucher, being so slow and articulating he almost felt like he was being insulting to the cabbie's intelligence. The cabbie certainly felt that way. Mickey watched the horizon shimmer with heat all the way to the facility.

Once inside, he had to pass through a veritable gauntlet of ladies behind glass, automatic sliding doors, and maze-like hallways, all done in ceramic tiles with very little room between them, making it appear as though someone took a pen and drew in the lines. The wall on his left, again in the tile, was a mosaic of what he assumed to be the Arizona landscape. It was done in reds and oranges and there was a green thing standing up that looked a little like a cactus. The hardest step was, by far, the last lady he had to pass before making it into the waiting room. She looked like she just saw a car wreck, all white and surprised-looking. A very angry person was pitching a fit two panes of glass in front of him.
"Aurthur Davenport?" The shaken lady scrutinized the voucher and Mickey's face.
He had to think a little quicker than usual, "Yeah, muhname's Davenport. Howduyoudo?"
She looked a little taken back, "Can I see ID?"
"yeahyeah suresure, you know, mimum's sent me here. Ayekids wit'her this week. gothree..." He rambled aimlessly as he shuffled though a holey fabric wallet, velcro flap hanging limply over one side. A lucky break, the guy that was pitching a fit stood up and started bellowing at the lady. She turned around and moved Mickey along, no longer having the patience for him, or the other man. Mickey smiled at the lucky break and hurried along to the waiting room before she could say otherwise. The screaming man was some sort of Asian, and it seemed as though he had his priorities in order. Then came obviously an American. Looked like an easy kill, Mickey'd make money off of him later, probably, stupid-ass Americans. Some lady was the last person he noticed. She was frantically reading a magazine, trying as hard as she could to not participate in any sort of conversation. He respected that, found the last open seat, and took to looking at the pictures in a month-old copy of Time Magazine to do the same.
He sweated again when she said that he had to sign waivers, as per law. Now, Mickey didn't quite remember his name, had no idea how he was supposed to spell what he did remember, and "as per law" just didn't sit well with him. Eventually he made an "A", followed by up-and-down squiggles, and a "D" with the same, flourished it, maybe a little too much, and handed it back as if he'd always done that. On the other hand, he was the first of the group to give the flier back. Didn't even read what he signed, just worried about signing it. Crap. Oh well, he'll get his free money and ditch this place anyways. It's not like he has a social security number, or anything.
He introduced himself to the Asian, but he certainly was too worked up to listen. Mickey shrugged and followed the group, staying a safe few feet behind the rest of the group, all the way through the back room. Once he found the pods, he chose one. "Notasnisas may caravan..." was all he commented before he laid down onto the bed and yawned.
The Asian presented Mickey's sentiments perfectly, and mickey's feet moved in impatience. Once the door slid closed, he couldn't help but feel his face tighten up in a smirk he usually only wears after he's won a big bet.

[B]

Greene stood at his station, a brown stool in the corner of the room. Naturally he wouldn't be behind some kind of computer, that was what the others were hired for. He was simply there to observe and assist. He didn't bother adding any small talk. He didn't care who these people were so long as they produced results. If they did, well then he'll know EVERYTHING about them, if they didn't? Well they were failures, as well as the staff here and some people will need to be replaced. He glanced at Callum, a crude grin appearing.
"Oh yes! You will! I swear you will, right love?"
He said out loud to her with a chuckle, naturally he didn't expect her to know what he was talking about and on that note didn't expect or care for a response. Finally the people began getting situated. Finally that annoying blow fish shut his ass up.

Jenna watched as people started getting beds. Naturally the loud asian was the first to get into one. The others, not wanting to be near him started taking the ones further away. The texan took his place to the left of the asian and winked at her. She guessed it was a sign that he was close so he'd stop him if anything happened. She sighed.
"Well?"
The British voice came through.
"Please lay down, Miss Briar."
Unless offered a spot by any of the other patients, she laid in the one next to the asian. He was already being strapped and being instructed personally by one of the staff. She lay down waiting and one came to her. She was told to keep her herself in this position, hands to her side and legs straight out. She was told not to move her limbs and just to keep them relaxed. Now the staff awaited the order from Dr. Tolstoy. Their eyes were on him, ready to begin Project Braegan. To step where no human should ever step.

[D]

“Go.”

Given the word, almost all in unison, the operators started up the equipment. The pods closed automatically and gas was released into the chambers holding their test subjects. The staff within the round room took their spots near the pods, incase anything should happen. As the patients fell into a slumber, numbers and other types of data began to be recorded and showed up the various screens in the control rooms. Beeps and other machine related sounds could be heard and it was as if the machines had come to life.

Once he was situated in, Aiden yelled and yelled for them to hurry the fuck up. Once the pod closed, he could yell no more. Gas entered the pod and soon invaded his most likely trashed lungs. Before he knew it, the gas was in his system and he was growing quite tired. His eyes grew heavy and his breathing slowed. “What…” the fuck is thi-? Aiden closed his eyes and fell to sleep. Finally, he shut up.

“Vitals stable.” Erica reported as she typed away on the keyboard. She took a brief moment to pull out and put on her glasses. “No problems so far.” The other operators reported what they were seeing. She continued to type and watch over the various instruments in her range while keeping an eye for the main operator beside her. He wasn’t the most experienced in anything, including personal matters, but still, he had managed to beat her out. Honestly, she sort of wish his luck would end.

Unlike Erica, Dr. Kurtis Tolstoy was being happy and optimistic. It was for a different reason, of course, but he was finally going to be able to see his important project start. Before he had been told that he was a fool and stupid for such a thing, but no more. Today, there would be progress and he would show everyone. Even though he stood away from the operators without a smile, his excitment and his happiness seemed to leak out from his aura.

It was about ten minutes in from the start that Erica noticed increased patterns in brain usage. It was normal for the brain to do so, but it appeared like an explosion. “There’s an abnormal increase in-” She felt Dr. Tolstoy’s hand on her shoulder and the pressure that came with a person leaning over her. Erica heard his yells to shut down the machines. She reached for a lever.

“What’s wrong, Ms. Callum?” He placed his hand on her shoulder for support and looked at the screens. She was right, there was an increase, but Tolstoy said nothing until the patterns revealed that most of the activity was coming from one specific area of the brain. The numbers continued to rise at an alarming rate and that was when Tolstoy called it off. “Shut it down! Shut it down!” He shouted, but just as the operators simultaneously reached for the emergency shut down lever, things in the control room began to malfunction.

Small explosions sounded here and there and some screens went blue. In a panic, the main operator pulled down the lever, but he only succeeded in pulling it down halfway before his control panel exploded and the lights inside the facility turned off. Tolstoy had shielded Erica from the explosion, but still, the woman saw the main operator die. It was after that the lights turned off that a piercing noise sounded through the air.

Erica covered her ears, but doing so failed to block out the noise and it seemed as if it had gotten louder. “Shit...Stop this!” She yelled and as if some caring God heard her, the noise stopped. As an added bonus, the emergency lights turned on within the facility. She quickly recovered and crawled over to the main operator. In his chair, the dead man sat with fire burnt skin and blood flowing from a large gash on his neck created from a metal shard, still protruding from his neck. For a brief moment, her eyes tricked her and she thought she had seen blood smudges on that shard as if someone had stabbed him. “Oh god…” She was in shock and a pang of guilt hit her. She hadn’t meant for him to die.

While Erica discovered the main operator’s end, Tolstoy got up to his feet and looked at the viewing window. “Wh-what?” Although the emergency lights were on, the window was blocked and he could see nothing but black. Where the lights off in the room? He moved to the other windows and found out that it was all the same. “Someone switch to the cameras.” The nearest operator did so for him and some sort of liquid substance dripped from the camera lens. “That’s odd. Another.” This time, the other camera was clear, but what he saw was sickening.

The windows were painted over with blood and most of the staff members that had been stationed at each of the pods were gone. What were left in their places were pools of blood and a few body parts, but where was the rest of the parts remained unknown. There was one survivor and she sat nearest to the door. She was on the floor, drenched in her co-worker’s blood, rocking and burying her face in her legs. Her crying could be heard because of the microphones. “Amelia?” Tolstoy asked, pressing the comm. Button. “Amelia! Answer me! What happened?” But the woman remained unresponsive.

Tolstoy, afraid for the safety of the test subjects, he quickly brought up the vital signs. There seemed to be nothing wrong with them, but what the hell had caused such a bloodbath in that room. He looked to some lab assistants and they nodded, heading toward the pod room. “Greene, look at this!” He looked back at the screen and realized that he couldn’t see into the pods. He hoped that the machines that were still working weren’t malfunctioning as well.

Aiden woke up in the same pod, but things didn’t seem to feel right. He was still strapped, but this time it was dark and he could have sworn that the pods had been see through. “Fuck man!” He assumed that it was all done since he was awake and he waited, shortly, for someone to come. No one came, but he could hear loud, heavy footsteps besides his pod. It was then that he heard multiple screams and the sound of metal ripping.

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Mickey took it on himself to stay awake when the hissing of the gas started. At first, a disturbing thought shot across his mind (like the holocaust, but less Jews), but soon enough it was apparent that the gas would keep pumping in until he let go of consciousness. In response, he shifted around to get lower in the pod and tried to go to sleep. Lists ran through his head, eventually lists turned into counting, turned into counting heartbeats, and he was asleep in what felt like hours, though it wasn't more than three minutes.
He didn't remember falling asleep, but he was sitting on a curb outside his house back in Scotland, waiting for a bus...

Mickey's eyes shot open. It took some time for his pupils to readjust, but it was pointless because inside the pod, he could only see he faintest hint of light, like they covered the pod, which I suppose makes sense if they wanted their subjects to sleep, to block out the harsh tube lights in the ceiling. What did Mickey wake up to? He searched his mind. it was a scream, but now, all he could hear is rumbling explosions and crackling fires, drowning out any noise he might have picked up from a person.
The darkness was suffocating. The restraints, once comfortably secure, now felt tight and cutting. Screaming, screaming... What happened?

[B]

"Not long now."
He spoke excitedly into it. Finally the consoles were active.
Greene sat, waiting anxiously near Tolstoy and Erica. He licked his lips like a starving hound outside a restaurant window.
"So close..."
He told himself. He wasn't as excited before but now he's at lengths with Tolstoy. Finally their hard work is going somewhere. Finally... The fame... the fortune... The knowledge. He was definitely going to get good material for a book. He turned on his audio recorder. Mid way through the experiment that fool Tolstoy ordered it to be shut down. Greene immediately jumped from his chair.
"DONT YOU TOUCH THAT FUCKING LEVER!"
He growled but it wasn't heard as pandemonium dropped by for a visit. Greene was still close to the machine that blew up near Erica and Tolstoy. It sent him falling back to protect himself as Tolstoy saved Callum. A few more explosions and some people were screaming orders at their underlings... Until things went black and a loud screeching noise was heard. Greene put his hands to his ears to block out the noise. When the noise had gone, Greene was in a nauseated state. He put a hand to his head and blinked a slight blur from his vision away.
"I told... You bloody... Yanks... Don't touch... The fucking... Lever."
He grunted, slowly picking himself up to his feet. Nobody was listening. They were intent on finding out what happened. When he was called over, Greene slowly walked over and saw the sight on the monitors.
"What a waste of good data..."
He grunted.
"If the subjects are still alive, fish'em out. We'll have the technicians work on the equipment and with any luck, we can try again in a few days."
He said, still grunting and completely unamused and perhaps a little cranky.

She couldn't remember falling asleep. A second later, she awoke. In a strange bed. There was red all over the ceiling.
"What a weird dream..."
She said to herself then attempted to get up. It wasn't working. Something was holding her back.
"H-huh?"
It was then that she noticed that she wasn't in a dream. And that red stuff? Well... She's no doctor but she was almost 100% sure that it was blood.
"Hello?"
She called.
"HELLO!?"
Were there screams? She couldn't tell. Was she dreaming? No... This was real... She was stuck in here... Nobody was opening the pod, she'll be stuck in here forever. She began screaming in an instant panic at the thought.
"SOMEONE HELP! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!"
When she finished the sentence she quieted just as quick as she panicked.
"Okay Jenna..."
She spoke to herself.
"Listen to your heart beats... 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8. 9-10. 11-12.. 13-14... 15-16... 17-18..... 19-20."
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled.
"I'll be okay... They're going to help me out any moment. That's not blood, it's just a chemical they use. There was no screaming, everything's fine. Just relax and wait until they say that you're done... And then get the money and leave. Okay?"
She spoke to herself, her breathing was calm. It was as if she had never panicked a few seconds ago. Now all she had to do was wait.