Thread: F3 Deathclaw RP [Alcadera & Haitious]

Deep inside of the Enclave research facility, used primarily for mutation research. A young male, if you could still call him that, lay strapped to a table. Old worn padding supporting his back, his arms tied on outstretched restraints, His legs held apart in the same way. Thirty days had passed with him being kept restrained in this manner, everything in his life had suddenly become affixed to this table. Sleeping, eating, being stabbed with needles, having his body defiled by inquisitive fingers, even forced to defecate without being released. A miserable existence with no sense of time, no sense of humanity and no sense of life. The room was kept at a 'comfortable' room temperature, cleaned often enough to be considered sterile at any given time. The young male, named Chriss Benningfield, was under constant surveillance. After all, if he couldn't hold it again and left his business leaking down onto the drain below him, a low level janitor was dispatched to clean the floor and flush the drain. The table holding Chriss Benningfield was tilted just enough for him to have a perfect view of the opposite wall, which held a single large mirror. Aside from the ceiling, this was the only thing Chriss could see, with his head tied to the headrest, there was little else to do than watch in horror as his once proud manhood was being rejected by his drug-induced body. In all this misery, Chriss was at least thankful that the mutation process itself did not feel painful somehow. Time was slow, however. And Chriss' inability to keep track of it by neither a clock, nor a daynight cycle made it seem to him like he was kept there for several months already. Every waking moment he longed to be able to move his body again, which is exactly what he refused to stop trying. His soldier training had not been for naught, as he had tried to pull his arms together repeatedly in a similar fashion to muscle training. Nothing much seemed to happen, but today however, while tapping his right hand on the outstretched armrest, he began to feel a little bit of motion, which means the metal holding the table together wasn't as strong as he had feared. His main problem, however, is how to break out unnoticed... A janitor made it's way to him within a minute of him having done his business, meaning there was always someone keeping an eye on him. Considering the motion in the armrests was only minimal, he knew it would take him a long time of constantly applying force back and forth in order to break off at least one of the arms, so as to allow him to untie himself. What he needed was not only a distraction, but something knocking the table hard enough to either snap or severely weaken the slightly fatigued metal holding his armrests in place. Chriss sighed as he closed his eyes, hoping he could maybe catch a little bit of sleep, or at the very least gather his thoughts. He knew this situation was hopeless. If anything, the Enclave was very thorough in what it did. hah...The lies I believed in hopes of serving a just cause... he thought to himself, knowing full well that anything he said out loud would most likely be recorded. In another life, I was 'saving the world'. securing an important research facility from bandits, going out on scouting patrols, liberating and securing property of the 'government'... chriss sighed to himself again as he lamented on his memories. He felt he should have realised the mandatory injections his unit was given, being sent out to secure a waste processing facility and being far too ill equipped for such a potential radiation hazard was just too fishy to be safe. Now here he is, strapped to a table and mutated into some freaky cross between a woman and the man he once was. And then there was the smell, this strong scent he never smelled before, yet somehow feel like it was his own body odour. If he had known that was the scent of a deathclaw, he might have figured out why it was so pungent, as deathclaw noses work in a strange way, they're quick to pick up on scents of prey, but their own doesn't seem to register half as much, requiring them to be significantly stronger than that of a human. To Chriss, however, his sense of smell didn't change with the mutations, and he himself smelled more pungent than ever. To a normal deathclaw, he would likely smell simply like an ordinary deathclaw, it might not even notice at first that it's female. I probably should never have been buddies with David... that's probably why they took out my unit... A simple grunt getting on first name level with one of their high prised scientists? yeah, I thought not. No wonder they stopped him from seeing me in the mess hall a few weeks before we were injected. After a moment, chriss grunted. For all I know they simply had him scout out which unit was viable for testing... the proud and mighty Enclave... couldn't even care about it's own footsoldiers, so just uses them as guinea pigs... throwing away their lives... Chriss' lower lip began to tremble. His memories of what seemed to be a perfect life, rebuilding the world, were nothing more than a painful reminder of how far he has fallen. However, he didn't have very long to feel sorry for himself. as suddenly a deep rumble could be heard from the walls, Something must have hit a wall somewhere with enough force to vibrate his room. Chriss tried to move his arm again, still not a lot of movement, whatever it was, it was going to have to slam something really big against the wall of his chamber in order to free him. His hopes were about to be answered however, as he heard a muffled alarm sounding from behind the mirror.