taxonomites | Entries tagged with { bruce banner

aregulargirl.livejournal.com

When Max walked into her room, there was a small box on her bed. Unwrapped, unlabeled, just a small white box, lying there looking all innocent.

Which immediately made her suspicious.

She tapped the box with a fingertip at first, but it sounded mostly hollow - good, whatever was in there was probably not an explosive. (She wasn't sure who would want to bomb her room in Taxon, but she didn't put anything past anybody.) She picked it up, turned it over, and shook it around a bit before finally opening it.

She pulled the contents out with a frown, then shook the box again, hoping for a note saying who'd left it or some kind of clue about what it was supposed to mean. Nothing.

Annoyed, she pulled her tablet out of her pocket and flipped it on.

"All right, not that I don't appreciate a gift, but I thought Christmas was over," she began, sounding every bit as irritated as she looked. She held what had been in the box - a blonde wig - up to the screen so those who were watching could see the subject of her irritation. "What is this, a joke?"

[ooc: max's fourth wall gift is an homage to other roles that jessica alba is known for. ;D]

notanemptymotto.livejournal.com

Maybe it was odd for Helen to give gifts to the people she had surrounded herself with. Most of them, she had only known for a few months. Most of them, she'd never see again if they were ever to leave Taxon. Even with that knowledge she still prepared gifts for them. She had wrapped them and placed them under the tree that was set up in her office.

She made sure to be there for when they opened their presents. Sitting at her desk, pretending to be busy. The Sanctuary was completely settled and nothing was out of place. Breakfast had already been prepared for all of the late sleepers, the building was warm, and there were no odd reports of the security system going off.

So, she sat in her office with her cup of tea and waited for the others to walk in.

[ ooc; backdated to the 25th! Come claim your gifts here, if you'd like! ]

deathstoppered.livejournal.com

Something red dripped onto the floor of the arrival room, and then something large fell with a thump onto it. A man with greasy hair and a huge nose, dressed in ornate academic robes and a great deal of buttons was laying in a heap on the ground, bleeding from several fanged bite-marks on his neck.

Severus Snape began coming to, and immediately wished that he wasn't. The entire world was made exclusively out of pain. Every. Single. Thing.

It had...hurt less a little while ago. There had been someone with him, someone smiling at him in a way that no one ever did, and he had known that nothing would ever matter again because she was smiling at him... only now he was on the floor, and his leg was at an uncomfortable angle, and he was cold, and the hurting less had gone away. Which was bloody inconsiderate of it. He would have to have a stern talk with the hurting less...

Groaning, Snape opened his eyes, and searched for the wherewithal to move. The light here was strange. The floor was metal, not wood. He was alone.

"Hel- ahem!" Croaking was not necessary, surely. "Hello?"

Silence. Merlin's balls he was sore. His limbs were slow, and he could feel the poison in his blood, still, but the paralysis was lifting. Perhaps Potter had done something. Produced another miraculous bezoar and shoved it down his throat. But if so, why was he in this strange room? First he had to finish the job, and he fumbled his wand from his sleeve and began a low chant. His deep voice filled the small chamber with a spell like a song, and as soon as he felt like he could manage being upright he began hauling himself to his feet using the pedestal. There was some sort of muggle device on it. ...That was not promising. Not at all.

"Hello? In the name of Queen and country, identify and explain yourselves!"

notanemptymotto.livejournal.com

Normally, at a time like this, Helen would be in bed sleeping. Most of the Sanctuary were already in bed. That was when she took her time to rest as well. Old habits from home died hard, if they died at all. However, tonight, Helen stayed up in her office with a luke warm mug of tea in her hands. The volume on the computer was low with a faint forgotten Christmas carol playing from it.

With everyone in bed, at least that was what she believed, she had the privacy to lower her guard and the emotional walls. She was devastated when she realized that John and Henry were gone. She covered it up with the cheer of the season, not wanting others to see how upset she was because of it. It was a holiday of happiness. They didn't need their spirits dampened by the ache she had from her adopted son being stolen away. And the continual pain of having John taken away from her yet again.

The tablet was set aside so that could be seen was the fireplace. She sat with her legs crossed on the couch. Her eyes stayed on the fire as the flames danced. Helen had finally brought herself to lock up Henry's office and room so that no one else would occupy it. She had finally cleaned out the room John was staying. Helen sighed and brushed her fingers against her cheeks.

[ooc; location is helen's office for those who want to bug her there. :)]

a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com

“There was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead ...”

The nursery rhyme was familiar enough, to the right ears, but Drusilla sang it to a tune that was all her own. In her opinion, music was a wild thing, a natural thing. It slithered and meandered in all directions, and telling it how it was supposed to sound would only spoil the fun.

It was night time. Although the vampire understood that the artificial Taxon sun wouldn’t make her sizzle, some habits – like walking in the shadows and watching the Slayer and talking to the pixies – were hard to break. Her melody – not unpleasant, but, at the same time, not quite right – was one of the few things still alight in the darkness. She couldn’t get used to a city that actually slept at night. Sunnydale had only really lived after midnight. All the interesting people hide away during the day.

She missed the cemetery.

“… when she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid ...”

Oblivious to the attentions of the tablet, the vampire continued to sing softly to herself as she made use of the hatch. Under Drusilla’s surprisingly critical eye, a doll – blonde curls and a pretty pink dress and vacant eyes – began to take form. She lifted it out tenderly, a proud mother … then tossed it aside just as suddenly, eyes flashing with fury.

The doll – just an ‘it’, not a ‘she’ – hit the pile with a thump. There were six or seven similar dolls at Drusilla’s feet. To the untrained eye, they were all identical. To Drusilla, however, they were as wrong as the wires in the head or the soul in the Angel Beast’s chest.

She was looking for Miss Edith, but she hadn’t found her yet.

OOC: My slow-atus turned into more of a hiatus, but I'm easing off it now. Don’t forget to me know if I’ve missed anything or if you need me for everything!

hulk

Contrary to popular theory (if he actually got out enough and talked more, there'd probably be more people theorizing, but that's besides the point), Bruce hadn't dropped off the face of the Taxon. He was just going through one of his "obsessed genius" phases. This basically consisted of him locking himself in a room with some really shady-looking, jury-rigged scientific equipment. At least now, since Magnus had given him full use of one of the Sanctuary's labs, the equipment was modern and reliable. You don't want to see what happens to a centrifuge built off a bicycle wheel and a rusty outboard motor when the gears get out of whack. Flying glass vials of toxic blood and smoking machinery? Do not want.

But although Taxon has provided Bruce with a much nicer workplace, it did lack certain things. Like a job that Bruce would have had to go to in order to get paid so he could pay his rent. And buy more junk to cannibalize in the name of science. And usually somewhere in there, he would feed himself. Without that necessity to see to, there was nothing to stop Bruce from spending a week or so, constantly working. He might have had a piece of toast yesterday, but he wasn't really keeping track of time.

So this is where the tablet decides to start broadcasting. There's a nice view from where it lays on the table of Bruce in his wifebeater and cargo pants, sticking a largish syringe into his arm. After a few moments, he removes it and pops a band-aid on with only one hand. The man has skills. A number of things are on the table and blocking the view, so it's hard to tell if he was injecting something or just drawing blood. Any kind of speculation is cut short when the tablet makes a loud beeping sound for no apparent reason. Bruce, who obviously had no idea the thing was on, jumps about a foot in the air and knocks over a bunch of vials and flasks and other nonsense with his flailing. The visual cuts out, but the audio of glass breaking and things spilling is still going through.

After a minute, the hubbub dies down. "...Damn it," manages to get through before Bruce finally turns the stupid thing off.

Current Mood: nerdy

faderbroderson

The train was empty except for Godric and one other man. Godric had been following this man in silence for hours, watching him go about his day-to-day life with no indication that he could turn into a giant green creature with strength to match Godric's own and resilience that was unheard of. Perhaps it had all been part of the costume glitch that had manifested on Halloween, but Godric wanted to be sure. He'd waited until the crowds had thinned and the man had boarded the train, quietly walking on after him and sitting at the other end of the car.

Even clear on the other side of an empty train, it was impossible to ignore a vampire who was studying you intently.

hulk

Most times after he's woken up from an episode (episode is the best word he can think of to describe it - like a seizure, only instead of biting your tongue there's immeasurable collateral damage), Bruce slept for a few days straight. Even though he couldn't remember most of what had happened and he never had a mark on him afterward, it was still an enormous physical strain. He was still tired even now, and this was after four days of constant sleep.

When he'd woken up in the infirmary of the Sanctuary for All, there had been a fresh set of clothes and his tablet next to his bed. He had spent the first few moments wondering just what had happened, then everything came rushing back - the party, Ross and Blonsky's sudden appearance, then nothing but vague flashes until someone had woken him up in the middle of a wrecked house. He did remember something about a pipe in someone's chest, but that had to be some kind of weird, post-monster dream. After that, it was a simple matter of figuring out what he had to do.

Run. Not that there were many places to run to while in this city, but he could at least get out of the Sanctuary and find some other place to crash. Bruce grabbed the clothes and ran through the network as he pulled them on. When he saw Abby's post, he knew what had happened - and who knew how many other people who weren't able to make such calls for help - and felt horribly guilty for it.

So, even though he was determined to leave the Sanctuary and avoid anyone who knew him as 'David', he still felt badly enough to be compelled into leaving a note at Abby's lab. It took him a few tries to actually write it (Hallmark really needed some 'Sorry I turned into a monster and hurt you' cards), but eventually settled on a simple 'Sorry'. Bruce taped it to the door and walked away. Maybe he'd leave a similar note at the Sanctuary later.

[ooc: Locked to Abby Sciuto first, then whomever wants to grab Bruce sneaking back in to the Sanctuary for All to leave the note for Magnus. Hee, silly hobouncle.]

Current Mood: guilty

hulk

Somehow, some way, Bruce's tablet was still attached to the bracelet even after the past few days rampaging through the city. The audio clicks on first and one can hear rather heavy breathing. The video kicks in shortly after, and one giant, green monster can be seen sitting in the middle of a lot of rubble in the northern district. There's not that much left to really identify it, but those familiar enough with the area might recognize it as the remains of the Petrelli Mansion.

But now the creature looks as if it's pretty calm, or at the very least, it's tired out. After a few moments of it just looking around at the place, it stretches out amid the mess it's made, lying on its side. It yawns, and soon enough it's asleep.

The tablet continues broadcasting, and a while later, the Hulk begins to transform. Too-large bones shift position under quickly paling skin in a way that's disquieting enough to watch, and probably painful to endure. Fortunately for the creature, it's still passed out, so only a whimper or two transmit as the process takes place. When all's said and done, the monster is gone, and all that's left is an unconscious, shivering Bruce Banner.

Somebody really ought to come and pick Bruce up - this chilly autumn weather is nasty enough when you're completely clothed. So one can imagine how much more so when all you've got on is a pair of shredded, stretch-out pants.

{ooc: And the Halloween Hulk-out is officially over~! Feel free to say whatever you'd like got totally demolished by the Hulk, and of course, the original Hulk-entry is still open for action. Mmm, delicious backtagging.}

Current Mood: exhausted

hulk

New sentiment or no, Bruce was still uncomfortable enough at the party to grab the opportunity to slip out for some air. He told ~~Dr. Magnus~~ Helen that he would be back in a few minutes and headed for the door.

Outside, he had to resist shuddering. The sudden turn in the weather wasn't exactly unwelcome (even perpetual sunshine got a little weird after a couple months), but it certainly fit the Halloween vibe. Add that to the definite lack of Extras on the street... Very creepy. But he didn't think much of it, but it did make him that much more watchful.

( Click for painful hallucinations and transformations! 8D )

Current Mood: infuriated

notanemptymotto.livejournal.com

Despite the odd weather changes that had come over the usually unclouded Taxon skies, Helen Magnus continued with her plans to have a party on All Hallows Eve. Normally, Helen wouldn't even consider such things, but given that most of her residents would be expecting one? She didn't mind having one for the occasion. On the morning of Halloween she left a message over the tablets in text format giving the location and the optional part. Costumes were completely optional. Not everyone wanted to dress up, after all.

Helen spent the rest of the day in the large kitchen preparing various dishes as well. It felt nice to be out of the office or lab and take a day to enjoy herself and the company of others. She hoped Ashley would understand. And once the festivities started, she could most likely slip back to work without anyone noticing. Hopefully Henry would get her message about closing off most the Sanctuary so the guests wouldn't be lost. If any showed up at all, that was.

As evening fell, though it was hard to tell due to the weather, Helen had the EM shield placed down and opened the gates of the Sanctuary. All of the food was already placed out in the foyer with only a few of the hallways open. Mainly those directed towards the kitchen or the restrooms and the living room located downstairs.

Welcome to the party, Taxon. It'll be a ghoulish night.

[ooc; posting this early since I won't be on a lot until later on Halloween night ♥ Just work this post like how Cordy's part post was ya'll. Also if you lovelies that live in the Sanctuary could pop over to Helen's journal and post here, it'll be marvelous~!]

abigailsciuto.livejournal.com

Abby hadn't slept. She had no clue what time it was. Did time work the same here? It seemed to, but there was no way of knowing, was there? By 'normal' time constraints, it would have been around 4am. She was listening to music, typing furiously, and chugging Caf-Pow! like it was her lifeline. Tonight, it was.

She slapped the tablet onto it's [visual] setting publicly, letting her music broadcast for a few minutes before she slid her chair into view. She examined her unseen audience. "How can you sleep at a time like this?" She asked to no one in particular, yet everyone. "I mean, here we are, trapped and you're going to snooze away while there's work to be done. Hell, I don't even know what I can do, but at least I'm doing it." She glared at them accusingly.

"Isn't anyone curious about how the hell we're getting out of here? Doesn't anyone want to help?"

[ooc - here, have a paranoid, angry Abby. She doesn't bite unless you ask nicely.]

mylifeisjoy.livejournal.com

The first thing that enters Gaila's mind is that it's too quiet. Silence buzzes in her ears, worsening her headache, and she groans as she curls loosely into the fetal position. Memories rush into her, and Gaila remembers panicked orders and cries of pain — there were flames, and the brightness of the Farragut's destruction blurred her vision; she can't remember the expression on anyone's face. She isn't sure she saw them.

For a moment, she wants to stay curled up and safe and forget the ambush, forget her injuries, forget her dead crew. Gaila knows better, though; that's giving up, that she could still be in danger; that knowledge twists her stomach, and fear chokes her momentarily.

So she raises her head and, slowly, pushes off the floor. She expects to feel pain in her arm, burns on her side, blood in her mouth — but nothing. She assumes she is just too numb and doesn't check her healed injuries; she thinks she knows what's there.

Gaila recognizes the room is not part of the Farragut. It's too dim, too bare, too clinical. She, quickly, takes note of the transporter and a tablet, sitting on a pedestal — just sitting there, as if it's meant for her. It's ridiculous, and she regards it as part of another trap. Still, she examines the tablet, flipping through modes and every window, no matter how unnecessary or pointless.

That's when she finds the map, with dots and names — familiar names. Commander Spock, Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Relief rushes over Gaila; she's safe.

Quickly, Gaila returns to the holo mode and pauses. Her throat feels raw, and she realizes she isn't sure what to say, besides shouting "HELP ME." She knows one look at her screams that loud and clear, though: her usually tight bun is loose, and her unform is obviously battered — singed and bloody. The dark green color of her blood stands out vividly against her uniform.

Gathering herself, she takes a deep breath and finds her words. "This is Cadet Gaila. The distress call from Vulcan — " Gaila swallows, her expression darkening. "It was an ambush. The Farragut is destroyed... I, I think the rest of my crew is dead."

Gaila's lower lip trembles for a few seconds, sadness squashing her relief. She's silent a few moments; the proper dialogue for requesting assistance is on the tip of her tongue, but she can't bring herself to speak anymore. She regrets beginning her message with the ambush.

"I need help. Gaila, out."

notjustthegeek.livejournal.com

This was bad. This was all sorts of bad that Henry didn't have time to think about. Not with the Cabal's clones running around the place trying to kill them all. Not with the EM shield down and who the hell knows what happening out there.
( cut for spoilers )
There were a lot of weird things in Henry's life. The entire Sanctuary and everything they dealt with day to day was enough to send most people over the edge. But being in the basement of the Sanctuary one minute and standing on a platform in the middle of room that reminded him a bit too much of the Cabal facilities? That wasn't good.

"What the hell?" He whipped around, hand going for the gun at the back of his belt. "Doctor Magnus? Big Guy? You're here, right?"

The EM shield had been back up. He knew the EM shield had been up, he'd seen it go up himself. There was no way he could have been teleported out of here, not without dying.

Only once he was sure he was alone did he lower it again. Henry looked at the bracelet attached to his wrist, trying to unlatch it as he stepped off the platform. "This gets better and better," he muttered, eyes glancing across the tablet that sat next to him. At least it could have some information, or he hoped. Henry tapped at the screen, trying to pull up locations as he moved toward the door. He saw something as he looked over the map. Two buildings labeled Sanctuary, one the one he was in and one nearby. "Hunh. What are the chances of that?"

At least it was a place to start looking for answers.

notthatnormal.livejournal.com

Usually Ashley could find herself a rooftop to sit upon and think, to work through whatever was bothering her or to calm from her mental beating if something had gone wrong. Here, despite their being plenty of rooftops to choose from it didn't quite seem appropriate. The situation was different, wildly different from anything that they, particularly her, had previously encountered and her normal quiet reflection didn't seem fitting. Especially in the middle of the day.

She'd collected her bike a little earlier, not feeling her usual drive as she rode it back to the Sanctuary before taking a lone walk in the middle of Osten. Forgoing the use of the trains, Ashley had tried to free her mind and let herself just walk; to finally explore this place which as trying to become home. Neither of those things had worked and eventually Ashley stopped, standing in the middle of whichever street she'd found herself in. People went about their day, barely bothering to give her a glance.

The previous night had been hard and Ashley had found herself unable to sleep; nothing about their lives or what they did had ever had this effect on her, yet none of them had ever been experimented on before. She'd gone through her usual morning routine, trying to feel like herself: she looked the part, but Ashley didn't see herself looking back in the mirror. Pain had come with her anger as did the reminder of what she was. Her mother hadn't yet done any tests or scans which was one reason as to why Ashley had left. Coming to terms with what had happened was something that Ashley believed would be hard to accept or come to terms with. Seeing it happen to someone else was one thing, but to yourself? It wasn't something that Ashley had ever imagined.

redeemedripper.livejournal.com

He wasn't ever at home here. No matter how wonderful the accommodations, and no matter how large the space, John was never completely comfortable. He knew he had to stay close, for Helen, for Ashley, but there was so much about his personality that screamed at the stillness of his new life. He paced the Sanctuary, learned it's ins and outs. He wasn't sure where the calculations of his mind were taking him. He just walked slowly through each hall. He didn't acknowledge most of the people he passed. A great deal of them didn't say anything to him, either. His presence was shaky in Helen's Sanctuary. Did they know who he was? Had she warned them? It would have been better if she had. John would rather they know so that he wouldn't have to explain.

There was a chair in a corner, one that looked particularly comfortable. As he sat, the tablet in his pocket was knocked into [voice] mode by sheer accident. He hadn't noticed. Leaning back against the chair's comfort, he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

"The days are catching up with me." He muttered to himself, not realizing he was projecting. John grunted out a laugh and shifted again, this time leaning forward, covering his face with both hands. He spoke again, this time much quieter and much more muffled. Words like "time" and "regret" could be heard, but no complete thought.

notanemptymotto.livejournal.com

It was rare for Helen Magnus to actually fall asleep. As Will had so brilliantly put it: she kept an eye on the ranch. Fatigue did catch up to the Victorian woman eventually. It led her falling asleep on the couch in her office. Merely a cat nap. Perhaps it would have been longer if it the dreams she had were truly happy ones.

( cut for tl;dr/spoilers. warning: may induce heartbreak. )

Letting out a sob, Helen finally crumbled. She went down to her knees and leaned backwards, feeling the last of her grips on her emotions break. In that moment the strong woman that so many people knew and admired was no longer there. Just the broken woman who had lived far too long. And completely unaware her sobs could be vaguely heard over the tablet across the room.

[ooc; canon bump ]

abigailsciuto.livejournal.com

[Since her arrival, Abby had met a few people, but hadn't really come to trust anyone. She wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal the location of her lab just yet, so she disabled the visual function for today. She had been working for hours, just making busy-work for herself. After awhile, she grew frustrated. This was pointless. There wasn't any reason to go over old cases, and there wasn't anything she could find as a means to get out of her. Abby was bored, upset, and alone. She flicked on her tablet and made sure it was only on the 'voice' function before speaking.]

Anyone else get the feeling that this is the kind of place that people just bore themselves to death?

Current Mood: bored

notthatnormal.livejournal.com

((Also [ location: sanctuary (for all) ], this is also an accidental visual))

Ashley couldn't remember the last time that she'd had a good nights sleep, so when she woke up that morning she actually felt tireder than usual. After failing to go back to sleep to shake off the feeling, she pulled herself out of bed. Something though, didn't feel right. There were things in her room that looked out of place, like James for one; Ashley thought that she'd lost him years ago, but it wasn't just her room it was her. And that feeling was growing stronger. Meeting people, making chocolate chip waffles and... Druitt.

"Mom!" In a place this big she didn't usually hear, but on that one occasion that her mother was passing, she would take that chance. Still in her pyjamas, Ashley left her room in search of her mother; not best pleased either.