Do You Think Blood Will Stain?

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There's an underlying sense of danger as the Major returns to the familiar halls — a simmering, bubbling feeling of anticipation and adrenaline mixed together with dread. Very little rattles the monster; he has a lot up his sleeve when it comes to manipulating others to do his bidding. But this? This sense of unknowing what may lurk behind closed doors — a foreboding sense of danger at being found out causes an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Fangs itch and claw at his gums from the inside, aching from the need to feel out his emotions in a much more carnal and sanguine matter. The need to rip and tear burns his throat, but the vampire does his best to ignore such bestial urges. It wouldn't do him any good when heading directly into the wolf's nest.

He'd told the man he would be available for any future samples that might be required of him — it seems their last interaction hadn't quite scared off Micah. Not yet anyway. Although North had won in their little competition of wills last time, he wasn't so complacent to believe he could do the same this time. Micah had gotten the samples he requested — what had come of that testing? What would make him call the Major to his labs once again? A toothy grin as he wonders if the scientist had merely just enjoyed their little... Play last time, and wanted something more. It was the mask he would choose to wear, if only to hide the unease hiding in his gut.

His foot moves to an uneasy tempo against the ground as he stands at the back of the elevator, arms crossed against his chest as he leans on the wall. Impatience. Technology moves too slow for a creature that is built on speed and stamina. He could probably run quicker than the elevator—

The doors swing open — stark white nearly blinds him.

It's an interesting difference from the concrete greys of the rest of the Military Compound, built upon a need for protection rather than aesthetics. But the labs of Cypher were built to be pristine in appearance. Does it make the little scientists happy, he wonders; does it make them forget all the blood and gore of the outside world?

Shaking his thoughts away, North leaves the elevator and heads down the various different winding hallways that will lead him to where Micah's laboratory is — he remembers it well, even having been there only once before. A mind like a steel trap, and jaws to suit. His fangs ache once more but he does his best to swallow back the monster inside that wants to leap out of his very skin and slaughter everything in his path. When was the last time he'd fed? Far too long ago, probably, if his urges are still violent within his own mind. North pinches the bridge of his nose to shake free the intrusive thoughts as he stands at the entrance to the lab.

Micah Scofield, M.D, the nameplate next to the door reads. The vampire pauses for a moment at the threshold, as if to better steel his emotions, before he steps into the radius of the automatic doors and allows them to thrust themselves open in greeting.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite doctor, how I've missed you."

TAG: Micah Scofield

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Posted 01-27-2024, 01:49 PM

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Micah's fingers twitched nervously against metal desk. He wasn't sure if the nerves were from the last dredges of colke dissipating from his system, or the mental anguish of having been a presented a puzzle that even he, Micah Scofield, could not solve.

How was Soldier #524 alive?

The DraC-2 virus should have consumed his cells by now. Rip his chromosomes apart, decay his DNA structure until the virus alone controlled the host body. But no - it was in him. And so were his cells, his chromosomes. Untouched, flourishing. He had felt the strength under the soldier's skin, seen his eyes, bright and alert. It was like he and the virus agreed to coexist peacefully, the virus flitting around his bloodstream, a passenger and not a conqueror.

It frustrated Micah. Micah, who felt comfort in the natural laws of the world, who knew everything that could and should happen, because gravity and time and life could all be predicted and explained, deconstructed in neat formulas and lines of data.

But not this soldier. Not Major Sigurd. Damnit, the man had been eating so viciously at Micah's head that he even remembered his name. Saw his face every time he closed his eyes, tasted him at the back of his throat.

A fist sized blossom of plaster in the wall behind him showed just how effectively Sigurd had infected him.

Someone entered his lab. He heard the soft hiss of the doors as they parted, the deep echo of boots meeting sterile tile. His hands gripped the edge of the steel table, knuckles white. His gut told him who it was, like a foul wind distressing the hairs on the back of his neck - never mind that Micah himself called him into his lab.

"Major Sigurd," Micah breathed. He was never good at hiding his emotions, simply because, he never believed he needed to. He didn't feel emotion, he observed it. But rage... what was normally ice in Micah, sullen and hidden, seethed into a slow burning fire.

He turned around. Thought he could keep composed, but under North's gaze, smug and teasing, as if he knew the anguish he was putting the scientist through for the past month, Micah felt his nerves crumble. The scientist lunged forward. If Micah were stronger, North weaker, he could have shoved him straight into a fridge containing Infected samples worth more than both of them. North's frustratingly solid stance didn't deter Micah, as the scientist hissed, "What.. the hell... are you!?".

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Posted 02-03-2024, 05:26 PM This post was last modified: 02-03-2024, 05:28 PM by Micah Scofield

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His words practically ooze with sarcasm, dripping like honeyed poison from his tongue as he taunts the scientist, drawing ever deeper into the man's lair. It seems to do the trick — or at least, that's how it appears to him — as there's very little time after he takes his first step into the lab before the human's suddenly on him. Lunging forward like a desperate animal, hands clawing at the front of his uniform as weight is thrown into his attack as well. For only a brief moment North considers just letting himself fall back with the motion. Getting pinned against the wall by Micah seems oddly... Thrilling, if only so he can turn it back on the man later.

But he doesn't.

He stands still as a statue, muscles barely moving from the attack — the only movement comes from his clothes bunching and pulling taut across his muscular form, his piercing blue eyes trained to the wrath twisting and warping Micah's expression. Oh, how positively lovely that is to see. Does he know red suits him to a tee?

The infected's so distracted by the burst of anger from the human that he almost misses Micah's words — almost. For a moment his gut twists uncomfortably, even if the smug expression on his face doesn't change in the slightest. So the doc found out, did he? Pity. He would have liked to keep the man alive for at least a little longer — maybe test the boundaries of this cat and mouse game they started to play. Though tethered by an invisible leash to the scientist's blackmail, he'd already seen how easy it was to get the upper hand in the past. Perhaps he wouldn't need to kill him quickly after all. His head tilts, studying Micah.

"Devilishly handsome, of course. I'm surprised you even have to ask," he replies without further hesitation, raking fingers through his brunet locks as he grins salaciously down at the shorter man. "I know you must be desperate to get your hands on me again, but have a little decorum, doc. I still have to wear this the rest of the day and I can't have it wrinkled."

He grins — all teeth — and attempts to snag one of Micah's wrists in a hand so that he can squeeze it, hard.

TAG: Micah Scofield

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Posted 02-19-2024, 08:55 PM

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On top of being an unexplained anomaly to the neat laws of how Micah understood the world - the Major was insufferable. Micah's anger tingled under his skin, and he gripped the neckline of North's shirt, completey ignoring what the Major had said. Micah was tall, but wiry - North, he was taller, wider, a wall that refused to budge (which may have been a good thing, considering the sinfully expensive equipment around them), but Micah was past caring. The cool tendrils that had held him together were fracturing.

"You know what I mean, Major. Don't dodge the question." Micah leaned in. If this were a different context, it may have looked as if the scientist were tilting his head to kiss North. And to anyone besides Micah, it may have been tempting to close the distance - to feel the Major's alluring cupid's bow against their lips. But it was Micah, and he moreso wanted to end the bastard if he could, to erase the deviant data point.

His voice was low and far from the usual disinterest that punctuated it as he seethed, "I have tired everything to understand you. Every statistical technique, every theory and model. I even looked into other disciplines to answer that question. Chemistry, engineering, philosophy. And.. and.. I still can't explain it."

He didn't notice his hand shake, the tear pricking the corner of his eye. "I didn't think it was possible. All of my research, my work - undone by you."

Micah sucked in a breath, as the crushing realization - the thought he had banished into the corner of his mind as he begun to work on North's case - made itself known in the lash of his words. Micah's grip on North's shirt tightened, his bony knuckles fading to white.

"Please..." the scientist leaned in further, needing something to support his wobbling knees, the stars that danced in his vision as his mind started to float, until his forehead was resting under the cleft of North's chin. If anyone had walked in at that point, they would have thought they had caught the two in a lover's embrace. But all Micah wanted to do was throw up. "Please help me understand."

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Posted 05-05-2024, 11:37 AM

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