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About z-Carver

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  • Birthday 04/24/1990

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  1. Truth Montenegro straightened up at the exam table, wincing at the soreness in her back. Bending over for long periods of time tended to make her back hurt, and most of her job, at least in the lab, was bending over a body on a table. She stared down at the body before her, mulling over what she was seeing. The bite marks embedded in the bone were consistent with a carnivorous creature, but the bite strength was utterly off the charts. That meant one thing: they had a nova with animal teeth who was removing chunks of people. Truth rubbed her forehead with one hand while stating her findings for the computer. The program would ‘listen’ to her words and translate them into her document program. She’d need to fix a few things later, but it saved her hours of typing. Despite the unquestionable help of her writing program, this work was the kind of thing that made her feel tired – the endless variety of ways with which novas could kill their fellow men. Worse, she was sure that the victim had been alive- The buzz of an email hitting her inbox pulled her out of her dark musings. Drawn back to the case at hand, she finished her summation and closed the programs. Rotating her neck, she opened her email to find a new missive from Dr. Carver. The subject was ‘Need your opinion’. Her curiosity aroused, she clicked it open to find a short message: Quote: To:Truth Montenegro Subject: Need your opinion Dr. Montenegro, I have a fat file on my desk from an associate of mine in the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States. I can recognize it’s an autopsy file, but I’m not sure what the cause of death is or how the body got into that state. Also, identification of the deceased is rather difficult. Would you be willing to take a look at my file? Willow
  2. "What would you like to know?" Carver asked as she assembled the turkey into a lettuce-leaf sandwich. Ignoring Jael's grumbles at the bland fare, she said, "We're here and chatting. So now’s as good as time as any." There was a hint of challenge in her eyes, but it wasn't malicious. It was more competitive than combative; an invitation to put her to the question here and now. And there was the unasked question: Do you really want to know, or were you just talking good? “Besides,” Carver added, “I’m sure I can tell you more than you get from a report anyway.” She smiled charmingly as she daintily picked up her ‘sandwich’ and took a small bite. Jael, shut up about the food. I wish we had a nova metabolism, too. We don’t, deal. I just can’t taste anything! You want me to go back and get something else? Willow chided. You wanna get fat? Do you?
  3. “Dr. Bannon,” Carver said with a smile. “Come on in. I’m helping Drs. Wesson and Gravinsky with neotic research. And Eva was dropping something off for Wesson. You’d be welcome to come and talk science with us, I’m sure.” Maybe the Prometheus Golden Boy can be a guinea pig for a while, Jael grumbled. Her sudden voice startled Willow, who hoped she hid her twitch well enough. Maybe so, Willow replied. She wasn’t sure. From all that she’d heard about Jason Bannon, he’d seemed somewhat standoffish. Say, what’s with the name-calling? Jael was quiet, so quiet that Willow wondered if she’d retreated back into her portion of their collective mind. He’s… I don’t know. He puts me on edge. Probably means he’s a decent guy, then, Willow replied. I can’t think of better character reference than a thumbs down from you. Love ya, too, Wills. Jael merely sounded amused. I’d like to be wrong on this, rather than have something wrong with our boss. That thought wasn’t comforting to either woman.
  4. Willow was vaguely aware when someone brought in a bodybag. “Here,” a gruff voice said after a moment. She finally looked up to see a hard-faced, annoyed man. He was covered in blood and holding his arm, but it was clear whose side he was on. Willow gave him a glare. “Need help gettin’ him in there?” “No!” Willow barked, losing her temper. “No, I don’t. Just leave him alone, you have done enough.” “Hey, uh, Ma’am,” Broadside said, coming back to the door, “we found one of the Up- Utopians. You wanted to see them?” “Yes,” Willow said, easing Paul’s head off her lap. She brushed her fingers over his cheek, her thumb resting at the corner of his almond eye. She kissed his forehead one more time and stood, walking past both Elites. “Mel, you mind bagging the corpse before the building comes down and we have to dig it out?” Broadside muttered as soon as the woman was far enough away. “I’ll come back and help with the others, later.” It was left unsaid that the civilian took precedent over the combatants. Willow glanced back to see her guide trotting after her; the massive Elite – clearly a nova – led her behind a bush to a mess. Another Elite was patching up a thin man in a Team Tomorrow uniform. The man was Indian, handsome if compact, but his attractiveness was marred by the open mess that was his stomach and lower chest. Willow felt sick as she saw the damage; it was like Pauls. “Butchers,” she hissed and dropped next to the man, fishing gloves out of the EME* bag. “Here, let me,” she started to say, but when her gloved hand dropped on the man’s chest, she stopped, staring at nothing. She could see, in her head, exactly what was broken in him. She could see what was torn, what was sliced and what was burned. I did this with Paul, she understood; that was how he’d lived so long. “We need to clean the wound,” she ordered. “I was going to leave that for the professionals,” the Elite told her. “I think I am one, now,” Willow replied. As she spoke, the blood stopped flowing. “We can stabilize him, but I need to clean his wound before I close it.” “You a nova – a big brain?” Broadside looked impressed. Willow nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I think so. Come on, help me get this crap out of him.” Click to reveal.. EME – emergency medical equipment
  5. To:Michal Wesson Cc: Lee Bc: Director Stefokowski Subject: RE: So far, so good Michal, Glad to hear things are going so well. Good to know. C- To: Director Stefokowski Subject: RE: So far, so good Dir. Stefokowski, Regarding Wesson's previous message: my op was need to know, so how does he know? Either way, I'm not going to reply to him further - let me know if you need my further assistance with this issue. C- Click to reveal.. (Courier New?) Courier New is not an option for me in my menu and just typing it in didn't work. Went to Lucida Console. Just giving everyone a heads up.
  6. Carver giggled. “That’s the spirit,” she said with a grin. This was going to be fun and if Jaunt didn’t want to shop too, he could bounce around and have some fun on his own. She glanced around the plaza they were waiting in, her eyes lighting up when she saw the clothing shop on the corner. Standing, she waved Atlanta to follow her. “Fortunately, I think I was kind enough to drop us near a clothing store,” Carver added with a grin as she carried on Jaunt’s joke. What had drawn the doctor was a fairly upscale boutique; the front window was filled with dresses for the skinny and wealthy. Cute shoes were gracing the manikins’ feet while various accessories completed the look. “Do you like that?” she asked, pointing at a classic black dress. “I really like the way the skirt hangs on that one.” She glanced at Atlanta. “Want to find your style of clothing?” she asked with an eager smile.
  7. Carver leaned against a table, eyeing Roberto. After a moment, she slid up next to him and leaned her head toward him. "Remember, if you start to get dizzy or feel weak, you'll probably need to eat," she advised him. They had covered this before but redundancy was good. “I also have some vitamins for you.” “I was fine last time,” Roberto murmured back. “Yes, but this is the second time in less than a year that I’ve done this,” Carver said, then grinned abashedly. “Also, I’m a total mother hen. While Dr. Wesson finishes up, how about you go grab some food? Some carbs, good amount of protein and whatever veggies or fruit you fit into that meal. I’d feel better.”
  8. Jael waited until Eva was done talking; then she gave her a thumbs up as acknowledgement. She had been enjoying the swim: the dark colors of the ocean and the pressure of the water over her wetsuit. It had been tranquil and silent, like being in the womb. Despite the fact that she'd been delighting in the moment, she was glad to get on with the mission. That was where the fun was and Jael was going to have some fun. Grinning eagerly, Jael sidled next to Jaunt, waiting for him to teleport her. She wondered if he'd take advantage of the moment or not. She could see it going either way at this point: either he'd be professional because they were on the job or he'd be himself. Jael didn't mind either way - him coping a feel would be the most action she'd gotten in years. Willow was a prude in most senses of the word and excessively picky about men. She and Jael hadn't agreed on one in a long time. Maybe she'd get close to lucky for a second.
  9. Willow got half of the boat ride. It was her last chance to be up and in control until the end of the mission, so she tried to make the most of it. Everyone else seemed to be caught in their own pre-mission thoughts, so she left them alone. As always, she thought about how she came to be here, the odd turns in her life that had left her with half a body. And how she wasn't even real. The psychologists had assured her over and over that after all this time, she was a full-formed and distinct personality. That this was her life, even if it hadn't started as her life. It felt like it was hers, but the simple truth was that she was the invader, granted sanctuary because the fake-girl was more appetizing than the beast she kept sheathed in her soul. And she was tolerated by that beast because it had been made clear that it needed her to survive. The pilot turned and nodded to her; she'd asked him to let her know when they were halfway. Willow felt Lee's eyes on her but neither woman said anything as Willow silently said good-bye to the world. Willow was ready to not wake up, in case Jael fucked up and got them killed. She took one last breath of fresh air and went to sleep, or maybe more like a coma - - Releasing Jael fully. Jael felt Lee's eyes on her; she turned and gave the half-machine-half-woman a saucy wink. Lee's return smirk was bemused rather than upset. That was why Jael like working with Lee; the woman knew how to play it cool. Jael could respect that. The sociopath gave a lazy stretch and leaned her head back to let the night air whip through her hair. God, getting out felt so good. Damn moralists and their stupid rules. With a happy sigh, she contented herself with looking down into the water, sensing the life below their boat as they roared past. She suited up with easy familiarity, enjoying the sensations of the world first-hand rather than muted through Willow's perceptions. It was like having a cotton blanket lifted from her and Jael once again cursed the man who'd left her trapped with that simpering girl. Ready to go, she paused only a moment before grabbing the backpack that Willow had prepared. Despite being called a 'backpack' it was strapped against Jael's front, the compact bag designed to minimally impede her. Something that went on her back would have been best, but that was already occupied with her rebreather, something that Jael sadly needed. Jael brought up the rear, both because she liked not having people at her back and because that was usually the best place for a medic - away from the bullets and the angry people shooting them. As she ghosted along at the end of her team, she wondered if Ms. Mountain or Skippy would be the ones to give them away. Mostly, she just tried to stay hidden and let their red-headed leader find the ingress point.
  10. A smirk crossed Carver's face. "I know the rules," she said simply, the implication being that Lee wasn't sure she'd play by them. "And I play by them." Willow hated when Jael just took over like that; she'd been asking Lee if she should waste time healing the bad guys. But since Lee knew about Jael, Lee was assuming that it was Jael asking for permission. Everyone did it, but it didn't make Willow feel any better about it. As Willow took back over, the smirk turned into something more tame. Still grinning she added, "That's all Section Two got for us? They're getting soft."
  11. “I don’t need to stand,” Willow said. She didn’t want to stand either. All she wanted as to sit with Paul until he got up again and laughed at her for believing he was really dead. She wanted it so much she could see it: see his hair sliding out of her fingers, see him turn and laugh as he peeled off the stage makeup. “All a trick!” she heard him say. But her fingers remained tangled in his short hair. “You probably should come on out of here,” Broadside said, her rough voice gentle and troubled with guilt. “This building might come down and it isn’t safe.” “I’m not leaving him!” Willow hadn’t meant to shout but as the words flew out of her, she wouldn’t have it any other way. “It’s not safe-” “Were you the one who made it that way?” Willow asked, notes of hysteria clear in her voice. “Elites. How much money did you get to kill my fiancé?” “We didn’t know you were here,” Broadside protested, already backing out. “Let me know if you need something.” “Let Project Utopia know we’re here,” Willow said, her voice trembling. “You can do that. We were their guests and they’re probably looking for us.”
  12. Jael lashed out with vicious glee as another one of her captors entered the cell. The heel of her hand caught him in the cheek and spun his head to the side. That gave her enough time to grab his hair through his head-scarf and drive his face into her knee. She would have finished him then, but his buddy was right behind him. He snarled something in Punjab; Jael didn’t know it his backwoods language but she recognized it. She didn’t bother replying to him, though she really owed him a ‘thank you’. She owed all these assholes gratitude for freeing her. She decided, as she drove an elbow into his face before he could bring up his gun, that she’d repay them by killing them instead of playing with them. It was the least she could do. He stumbled into the door, something poking her in the side. It was the handle of a really big knife. “Thanks,” she said, jerking it loose of its sheath. “Your shitty guns tend to jam.” The blonde sociopath reversed the motion of her arm without reversing her grip and drove his own knife into his chest. “Just two?” she grumbled as his body sagged against her. Jael yanked her weapon out of him and turned to see if more were coming to play. More were, but not from the door; she almost lost her nose when a man fired his gun through a hole in the wall. He was spraying and praying, while Jael kept just ahead of his wild firing. She ended up underneath the hole as his buddy joined him, with just seconds to get out of this. She closed her eyes – and knew where all the men surrounding the hut were. And there was more – more things she could feel. “Oh, I like this,” she murmured. With her eyes still closed, she reached out with her new senses— Willow gasped as she pulled herself upright. How had she gotten over here? Why was she slumped again a wall? What had happened? Paul. She’d been trying to save Paul. “Oh, god, Paul?” she called, trying to remember where he was. It was a little dark in here, though the light coming in through the holes and doors showed a few details. There were forms in here that could only be human bodies. “Oh please,” she begged as she crawled to the first and rolled him over. Some of the ache in her chest eased when she saw that it wasn’t her fiancé. But the next still form was Paul. Very much ‘was’ and not ‘is’. The bloody mess that had been his chest was already losing warmth and Willow knew that he was gone. Really gone – not just ‘try and maybe you can save him’ gone. The window for that opportunity was closed. Her throat closed and Willow choked on the first sob. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, even as a traitorous part of her rejoiced that she was still alive. Angrily brushing away that thought, she moved to Paul’s head, sliding her legs under its dead weight. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to his empty shell, her tears sprinkling his forehead. Willow wiped away her tears and realized that she was removing blood and dirt. She found a clean piece of cloth and used her tears to clean his face. It didn’t help him look more like Paul; nothing could do that, because the animating force that had made him so unique and special was gone. But she cleaned his face and smoothed down his matted, dirty hair. She heard herself apologize again and wondered if she’d ever stop saying it. There didn’t seem to be enough contrition in the world for still being alive while he lay cold on the ground. The door opened to the shack, and some part of her screamed at her to get up and defend herself. Instead, Willow lifted her head, defeat and exhaustion written on her face. But there was no Pakistani militant greeting her with a bullet to the head. Instead, a nova woman – had to be, with that build – blinked at her. “Well, shit,” the woman sighed. “Who are you?” Willow whispered, her fingers tightening protectively around Paul’s hair. She had an insane urge to protect him from whoever this was.
  13. [Before Eva speaks] "Jaunt, this isn't dick waving," Carver said, sounding a bit annoyed. His youth and impatience were showing themselves, and Carver had never found either of those qualities appealing. "This is tinkering with a plan to make it better. We're a team, not drones for Ms. Parker to command." [After Eva] Carver accepted Eva's reasoning with a simple nod. If the mission leader wanted her brain out first, Carver would go first. She just didn't want to be seen as totally fragile. She probably was the most breakable of the people in the room, but she could usually hold her own against baselines. Besides, Jael got worse when she hadn't had a chance to unwind on-mission. A thought occurred to her and she asked, "Jaunt, if our purpose is to damage the ship, why would a blind jump be so bad? I ask because you are, as you put it, the expert on these things." Her smile at the last statement was bemused.
  14. Old Acquaintances – Who is next, Bannon or Truth? Bloody Mess – Mel, can I please get a reply so that this can continue? If not, please let me know you’re done so that I can wrap it and get it done.
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